#air summer solstice

[kageyama-boss]

[todaysdocument]

“Independence Fjord, N.E. Greenland,” by U.S. Air Force Colonel Bernt Balchen, June 17, 1953. 

Record Group 330: Records of the Office of the Secretary of Defense

Series: Combined Military Service Digital Photographic Files

Image description: Watercolor painting of a landscape, with light yellow clouds in the sky, a blue-purple foreground, and brown foliage in the distance. The colors make the painting seem to glow. 

[murderousink23]

06/20/2024 is Summer Solstice 🌎, National Day of the Silesian Uprisings 🇵🇱, American Eagle Day 🦅🇺🇸, National Ice Cream Soda Day 🇺🇸, National Vanilla Milkshake Day 🇺🇸, National Dump the Pump Day ⛽️🇺🇸, Anne & Samantha Day 🇺🇸, Clean Air Day 🇬🇧, World Refugee Day 🇺🇳

[amiharana]

i headcanon revali's birthday as being in capricorn season bc... i don't know he just gives like. capricorn sun aquarius moon virgo rising vibes to me, it just makes sense

like the idea of revali being born in midst of the harshest winter storm that rito village has ever experienced, where a couple lives were lost and they didn't expect revali to survive the winter.... only for him to emerge from the eye of the storm as one of the greatest warriors the village has ever birthed.

in contrast, i hc link as being born at the very beginning of spring, where winter begins to melt and flowers are beginning to bloom again. i'm honestly just referencing the day botw came out (march 3) but it makes sense. i think link really does give pisces sun energy!!! he has a taurus moon and probably another water sign for his rising bc he's just so soft...... he's just a soft little flower boy you guys, that's what he always should have been but hylia is a bitch and forced a different destiny upon him.

[montanabohemian]

when everyone on here bitches about summer and warm weather, remember that i am burning this into your retinas for all eternity.

those temperatures are in farenheit.

it is going to be colder tomorrow.

oh, and businesses and schools are still open.

[cmaidaartworkblog]

This video showcases my Blender model of the planet that the Scud aliens call home, the fourth and final world I've mapped out for @jayrockin's "Runaway to the Stars" project. A *lot* of maps were created in service of this final render, and also in service of presenting the special qualities of this planet. I intend to show you as many of these as I can under the cut, and also in subsequent posts focusing on some of the more interstitial, ancillary maps and figures that played a part in producing the primary maps you'll see in this main post.

Before I show the first maps I made for this project, what you see below are the satellite-style maps for the Equinoxes and Solstices, in order of (Northern) Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, the latter serving as the texture for the Blender object you saw in the video.

__________

With that matter covered, our next focus is this project's foundation: Geology. While I didn't spin as elaborate a tectonic history for this planet as I did for the Ayrum commission, I did work out as much detail as I could for the more recent geological activity, to set the stage for the elevation data - including a narrower focus on the coastal shallows that host the Scud populations.

__________

Once I could move on to climate, my first step was finding this planet's relative Insolation, which I managed thanks to @reversedumbrella's code and coaching. With an obliquity of only 16 degrees, this planet's yearly maximum Insolation levels stick close to the equator, compared to pole-to-pole oscillation we see on Earth

__________

Having a rough sense of where heat would concentrate seasonally and how the landmasses would deflect water in light of the planet's retrograde spin, I was able to set down the bi-annual ocean currents (Northern Summer above and Northern Winter below), then the monthly water temperatures pushed around by said currents, and finally -after factoring in many other considerations- the monthly land temperatures as well (combined in the second gif)

__________

Next came the seasonal air pressure maps and subsequent wind patterns (my first time creating those from scratch), which later factored into the precipitation maps. The incredible temperatures at the largest continent's interior make a desert of most of it, and the other interiors are fairly dry too, but all that heat on the equatorial ocean generates a *lot* of evaporation which ends up coming down elsewhere.

__________

With temperatures and precipitation mapped out for each month, I was able to find how the accumulation and melt of ice and snow played out, too. Given such a hot equator it's surprising to see freezing temperatures hold out in some places, but low obliquity and high elevation shield what areas they can, it seems.

__________

All this monthly data was then painstakingly combined and compared and plugged into equations to produce maps of discrete climate zones, using both the Köppen (left) and Trewartha (right) classification systems. The higher latitudes see some overlap with Earth's conditions, but the Tropics...

__________

I never really finished the map I wanted to make with my own loosely customized classification system, but I *did* get as far as this breakdown of the areas that sometimes surpass 56.7 degrees Celsius, Earth's record for highest surface temperature ever directly measured. And as you can see, that earthly record is broken by a *significant* fraction of this planet's surface, and far exceeded by the equatorial continent's deep interior

__________

The final phase of this project dealt with creating satellite maps of this planet's surface (which you saw at the top of this post), which started with a map of dry and submerged substrate, then a density map of the vegetation that sits atop it, then the colors of that vegetation under annual average conditions (demonstrating how they would appear in-person, rather than the area's appearance from orbit), and finally plant colors under seasonal conditions (same conceit as previous). In concert with the seasonal ice and snow maps, it was the four maps in the last sequence which were overlaid on the Substrate map, using the plant density map as raster masks, to produce the final Satellite-Style maps.

__________

This planet's sophonts being a marine species, it was then worth focusing on the conditions underwater, which included monthly seafloor temperatures (first gif), annual discharge of sediment from rivers (magenta in the 2nd gif), and seasonal upwelling of nutrients from deeper water (blue in the 2nd gif).

The creation of all my maps seen in this post was possible thanks to Photopea, which has been my go-to for several years now. The resolution kinda got crunched when I uploaded these here, so when I share them on Reddit later I'll add those links under this. These have also already been posted on Twitter, which you can see here if you like. Thanks for scrolling all the way down here!

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Six

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: smut (I finally wrote it y'all), fluff, *minors! DNI*

To skip this chapter, click this link to go immediately to Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel had no shortage of secret hiding places scattered across Prythian — apartments paid for under alias names, safe houses in towns where everyone minded their own business, hell there was even a residence in the countryside he’d help build with his own two hands. 

But he didn’t bring you to any of those. Those places were either in dangerous territory, tainted by the work he conducted as a Shadowsinger and Spymaster, or touched by the hands of lovers he couldn’t even remember anymore. For you, he wanted someplace new. Someplace special. 

He grinned with excitement, squeezing the flesh of your thigh as he held you close and trekked through the forest.

“Where are we going?” You kissed the curve of his ear, peppering his skin with kisses wherever you could reach. 

“Why are you whispering?”

You shrugged, smiling against his neck as he continued. The mountain woods were silent save for the rustling of cicada wings and the wing beats of owls as they hunted in the night. Moonlight blinked through the foliage, scattering the ground with salt and starshine. 

It was calm here. Peaceful. 

Shadows covered your eyes and flicked away low hanging branches so they wouldn’t snap on your dress or get tangled in your hair. You heard the rustling of the branches whenever they were moved aside and couldn’t help but flush at the shadows’ politeness. 

“Just a little further now.” 

You could hear the anticipation growing in Azriel’s voice. His hands were becoming greedy, slipping beneath your dress when it shifted and leaving molten fingerprints wherever he touched. He shivered when you sighed against his neck, washing his skin with a warm breeze. 

There was a fire burning close by. You could smell the chimney smoke in the air and the fragrant smell of flowers.

You shifted in his arms, prepared for him to let you back down to your feet, but Azriel didn’t let you go, nuzzling his face into the soft skin of your neck as his shadows finally dissipated. 

“Welcome to our new home, my love.” 

You gasped softly—a sound that had Azriel’s tongue darting out to feel your pulse as you caught your breath. 

High in the mountains and deep in the woods, a clearing had been cut out and the ground turned over. Star magnolias lined the edges of the clearing, their white blossoms clinging to their branches like freshly fallen snow. Grass grew soft and unencumbered, the occasional flowering weed adding drops of color onto the rolling, green canvas that brushed against Azriel’s ankles. 

But the cottage… oh, the cottage was a beauty. Cream-white windows bright with firelight peered out from walls made of pale brown stone. Blue curtains hung in the windows like eyelids and an ironwood door made up the cottage’s mouth. The door was nestled between two hanging lamps and they poured their light onto two wicker chairs, a table, and a hanging daybed on the porch. Blue wisteria crawled up the porch columns onto the stone walls, lit up by moonlight until they glowed stronger than the stars in the sky. 

“This… this is ours?” You breathed in disbelief. 

“It’s ours.” 

Azriel made a subtle point of stepping over the threshold with you in his arms before quietly letting you down to your feet. It felt like the right thing to do. 

You walked through the cottage in a daze, the roaring blood in your body momentarily forgotten as you moved through the front room to the living room where a cream-colored sofa with plush blue pillows and two armchairs surrounded a flickering fireplace. A bay window looked out over the front lawn arranged with cushions and a small bookcase so you could read. The adjacent kitchen hummed with quiet energy, and you knew that whatever magic touched the House of Wind and the River House also lived here. 

It was a fairytale cottage come to life, clean and cozy with its cream-colored walls and exposed wood beams. 

There was also a conservatory at the back of the cottage you hadn’t seen from out front and its domed, glass roof reminded you of the Day Court athenaeums — a piece of home away from home. Already plants flourished along the windowsill — courtesy of Elain — and green strings of pearls spilled out of white hanging planters like miniature chandeliers. 

“We’re still in the Night Court,” Azriel explained. His hands drifted up to your shoulders as you stood transfixed in the conservatory. “In the mountains along the western coast ten miles from the Day Court border. I figured it would allow us both to be close to home… and far enough away for some peace and quiet.” 

Since coming to the Night Court — since meeting Azriel — there had hardly been time or space to breathe. The River House and House of Wind bubbled with talk, constantly moving as people came and went more frequently than the tide. 

But here it was just you two. 

You were here… alone.

Rooms remained unexplored in the cottage, but all thought of them flew out the window as you turned in Azriel’s arms and took in his burning, hazel eyes. You flung your arms around his neck, fingernails gently dragging through his hair as you kissed him dizzy.

You stumbled up the staircase, still lip-locked with Azriel groaning against your mouth as the buttons of his shirt were ripped off and trickled to the floor like raindrops. 

“Which one’s the bedroom?” You murmured as you staggered down the hallway. You were vaguely aware of some beautiful portraits hanging along the wall, flashes of blue, black, white, and gold paint expertly melted onto canvas, but admiring them was for another day. You had other, more important, things currently on your mind — like finding a gods-damned bed to fall into. 

You reached the very last door of the hallway before Azriel gasped out, “Here,” and grappled at the door handle, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist like you were at risk of floating away. 

You and Azriel all but fell through the handsome wooden door engraved with some Illyrian markings you couldn’t make out and a large symbol of the sun. 

The fireplace roared to life, spurred on by the Cottage’s magic as Azriel dropped to his knees and started undoing the ties of your shoes. He looked radiant even while on his knees. His wings flared out from his back burning gold and orange as the firelight seeped through the thin, delicate membrane coloring his tan skin even more vibrantly as he looked up at you with hungry reverence. 

Blue velvet ribbons fell to the floor and your shoes came with them. They were the first piece of clothing discarded as Azriel gripped your ankles and began trailing kisses along your calves.

 He threw off his mating crown and it skittered along the floor, disappearing somewhere beneath the dresser. 

His lips moved up to your knees. Then further still. 

“Azriel.” You breathed your mate’s name. 

A four-poster bed took up most of the far wall, bracketed on both sides by wall sconces shaped like roses and mahogany nightstands. Gauzy curtains fluttered in the open windows, allowing inside a cool wind that smelled of petrichor and pine. 

You were never more grateful for a bed and a breeze as Azriel’s head disappeared beneath your dress. 

You gripped the bedpost, soft sighs turning to breathy moans as feather-light brushes of lips over skin turned to hungry, open-mouth kisses along your thighs. No one had ever kissed you like this. 

Azriel’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he groaned. 

No one had ever touched you like this. 

You felt the air move between your legs and gasped. 

You scrambled to bunch your dress in your hands, revealing Azriel’s dark head of hair and his hazel eyes, pupils blown so wide they were nearly black. 

“Where did these come from?” He groaned, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your lacy, dark blue undergarments. 

“Sloane’s,” You said, chest heaving. It was a miracle you could speak at all. 

You’d never been with a male. Hell, you’d never been with anyone. Azriel had been your first for everything that mattered, and he would remain the only one who had you in this way. 

Azriel stilled as if the same thought had passed his mind. A shadow curled around your chin, tilting it down ever so slightly at the same time his eyes drifted up to yours, soft and vulnerable and golden. Your cheeks were flush with color, excitement and anticipation written in every muscle of your body. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he promised.  

You swallowed thickly and nodded, but you didn’t think you’d ever want him to stop. 

Your head hit the bedpost with a dull thud, mouth open and panting as Azriel pushed aside the lace and tasted you. 

You weren’t oblivious to what happened during sex. You were a grown female with access to just about any book on any subject in the entire world. You knew what happened during the frenzy — had been imagining it far too often the last few days— but experiencing it was another thing entirely. 

Every time Azriel moved his tongue — every time he so much as breathed — your hips were jolting, fingers twitching as you buried them in his hair and shoved his face closer. He was strong beneath you, breath and tongue hot and wanting. 

Azriel let out a strangled noise when the first thrust of his tongue had you tugging on his hair. Hard. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut. But Azriel grabbed your hand before you could bury it in the folds of your dress and brought it back to his head. 

“Do it again,” he all but growled and dove back in between your thighs. 

In the beginning, you tried to contain yourself — to drag out this moment that had been ages in the making. You bit down on your lips and stifled your moans in your fist until Azriel’s shadows came to pin your hand to the bedpost. 

But then he slipped his fingers between your folds, pressing and twisting and testing you until he’d sunk in knuckles deep. Then there was no stopping the pressure building between your legs and within your core. 

“Az,” you moaned, hips bucking against him. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his smugness and pride as he brought you to the edge. “Oh… oh gods, Az! Fuck!”

You came around his fingers, thighs clamping down around his head as you shivered and moaned, but he didn’t stop, not even when you began to whine and jerk from the overwhelming feeling. You thought he would stop. 

“Az,” You gasped, tugging at his hair. “Az, stop.” 

Azriel snapped back from your core, eyes glazed over in a drunken haze. His mouth glistened and he swallowed, standing up and sliding his leg between yours so you wouldn’t fall on shaky legs. 

You stared at each other, taking in the sight of flushed cheeks and wet lips and unruly hair. He licked his lips, then slowly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Was that alright?” He asked seriously. 

You sprang forward, lips colliding with his as you pulled at his jacket. You undid the buttons that closed up the slits beneath his wings and in less than a second Azriel had it pulled off and thrown across the room. The buttons of his shirt were mostly undone, but he didn’t hesitate before ripping it open and scattering the tattered silk across the floor. 

You’d seen Azriel shirtless plenty of times before. It was how he preferred to sleep. And many hours had been spent awake in bed tracing the tattoos that swirled across his chest and shoulders with your eyes and with your hands. Now you traced them with your lips, sucking gently at the hollow of his neck where one of the dark marks curled. 

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. 

He was much gentler with your dress than with his shirt. There was no tugging or tearing. He simply buried his face between your breasts while loosening the corset ties at the back, then slipped the dress off your shoulders. The dress fell to the floor with a whisper and you stepped out of the pool of silk.

Azriel took a step back and went completely, utterly still. 

You shivered beneath his unflinching gaze, resisting the urge to bring up your arms and hide yourself. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but one that you no longer needed. This was Azriel standing in front of you — beautiful, kind, and loving, Azriel, who already knew things about you more intimate than your body. 

Your lace underthings did little to cover you — a very intentional choice — and you found yourself flushing the longer Azriel went without saying or doing anything. 

Finally, he broke the silence and breathed in awe. “You’re beautiful, Y/n.” 

Emboldened by his words, you crawled onto the bed, holding out your hand for Azriel to join you. He hovered over you as you reached for his belt buckle, undid the buttons of his trousers, and slowly slid them far enough down that Azriel could kick them off. His shadows took his shoes. 

You watched carefully as Azriel leaned you back on the bed and placed his elbows on either side of your head. Every ripple of muscle, every stretch of skin, did not go unnoticed by you. Azriel was your mate and you were desperate for the sight of him. 

You slowly moved your hand between his thighs, experimental strokes setting his lungs ablaze as he groaned. The sound sent a new wave of heat between your legs and confidence through your bones, especially as Azriel fisted the sheets by your head, brows furrowed in concentration. 

Without warning he tore your undergarments off you, exposing every inch of your skin to the cool wind that blew through the windows. Nesta was right — the blue lace did not survive the first night of the frenzy. 

“I’ll… I’ll buy you more.” He promised, leaning down to smother his moans against your lips as you kept stroking him. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You whispered and drew him close to you. So close he could feel the wetness that had gathered below. “I want you to see me, Azriel.” You kissed the corner of his mouth before moving your lips to his ear. “I want you to touch me. All of me.” 

And who was he to deny you? 

His hand took over yours and you gasped when he finally slid inside you. Moans slipped into the open air, interrupting the rumble of storm clouds as they gathered close by. 

Azriel breathed heavily against your lips, right hand moving to reposition your legs so they wrapped around his waist. “Are you alright? Are you in any pain?” 

You shook your head fervently. You’d worried it would hurt the first time, and certainly there was an odd, but not unwelcome, tightness where you and Azriel met, but all you could focus on was the roar of the bond in your chest and the flutter of Azriel’s wings as he buried his face in your neck. 

Inch by delicious inch, Azriel pushed forward, always waiting for your permission to continue until his hips were pressed flush against yours.

You both panted for breath as your bodies molded to fit one another in this new way and Azriel swore there was a faint, otherworldly glow to your eyes as you stared at him and smiled. 

You dragged your nails down his back, reveling in the strangled noise that came from deep in Azriel’s throat. A noise that grew louder when you gave a small roll of your hips, testing the waters and loving the pleasure that shot through you. 

Azriel’s hands flew to your hips, clamping down and stopping your movements as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Az.” You moaned his name and your core tightened around him.

“Don’t move,” Azriel choked out. “Just… just give me a moment.” 

He would never live it down if he came inside you now. 

You lifted your head from the pillow, wide eyes staring down at him as he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, then he wouldn’t have to deal with your shuddering walls clenching around him as you stifled your giggles. Who would have thought the Shadowsinger would be so easy to bring to the edge? There was a thrill that shot through you as you realized, once again, just how much he loved you — just how much you drove him wild. 

One sharp snap of his hips was all it took for your laughing to turn to whines, hands reaching up and bracing against the headboard. Azriel began slowly, methodically, timing his thrusts to your breathing so he could draw those sweet noises from your lips like music. 

“Mother save me, Y/n,” he groaned, capturing your breast in his mouth and swirling it around his tongue.  

He flung open his side of the bond and you did the same, drowning in dual pleasure as his thrusts sped up. You thought your heart might explode in your chest. 

Azriel kissed his way up to your temple and pressed his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your cheeks as he tangled his fingers in your hair. He wished he was an artist so he could capture the sight of you beneath him. Your flushed cheeks and glowing eyes. The stretch of your neck as you tensed. The hot, fervent press of your breasts against his chest as your back arched off the bed. 

I love you, Azriel. Your words flowed across the bond, carried on waves and waves of pleasure as you jolted up and let out a choked cry. 

That sound. Azriel wanted to hear it every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t stop his thrusts, rolling his hips forward and chasing after his own release as one hand slipped between your bodies. You squirmed beneath him, hips bucking up wildly as he urged you on. 

“I’m here, Y/n. I love you so much. Keep making those noises for me. Please.” Azriel clasped his hand in yours, chanting your name as he felt that coil of pleasure tighten further. 

Illyrian wings are one of the most sensitive areas of the body, evolutionarily adapted to sense even the smallest changes in air pressure and wind speed. The apex of their wings alone contain nearly 3,000 nerve endings. 

Even through the daze of pleasure, you eyed the curve of Azriel’s wings with curiosity. 

Do it. Azriel begged. Please. 

You squeezed your legs around his waist, mind cloudy with pleasure as you dragged your fingers along the membrane just below the talon. 

This time you shattered together, hips slapping and cries of each others’ names spilling out into the night sky for all the stars to hear. Shadows burst forth from Azriel and mixed with the blinding rays of sunlight that exploded from your chest. Together, your magic blew out all the windows in the cottage and sent a roll of thunder so far over the mountains that Rhysand, Feyre, and even Helion felt a disturbance along the border. 

The hand you’d caressed Azriel’s wing with shot upward as you came for the second time in a row, slamming into the headboard and punching a hole through the solid wood. You held onto the ruined headboard as every tense muscle in your body slowly loosened with a twitch, spreading warmth and ecstasy across your skin and through the bond. 

Azriel collapsed onto your chest sweaty and spent. He could hear your heartbeat within your ribs running faster than a jackrabbit. You breathed heavily, blinking the fog from your eyes as you stared up at the ceiling. 

You brought your hands to Azriel’s back, holding him tight as you gathered your breath and tried to calm your racing heart lest it decide to fly out of your ribcage. 

“Did you…did you just break the headboard?” Azriel breathed out after some time had passed and neither of you were trembling anymore. 

“......No.”  

Azriel peered up first at you, and then the fist-shaped hole in the maple bed frame. He burst out laughing. The noise was brighter than sunlight and you couldn’t help but join in. 

“Are you hurt?” He grinned. 

You shook your head. Laughter spilled out of your lips so brilliantly they were more gasps for air than anything else. He kissed your knuckles, smooth and unharmed. Then, he attacked your neck, leaving gentle bites that tickled as you squirmed and sighed. 

“Shall we try and break the bed again?” Azriel offered, still smiling. 

“I think we can do more than try.” You grinned mischievously. You rolled over top of Azriel, tracing the smooth skin of his chest before bracing your hands over his heart. 

And so the frenzy began. 

6 weeks later

You leaned forward, chest pressing against Azriel’s as you gave him a drowsy, content smile. Steam coated the bathroom mirror in a film and condensed on the bottles you’d carefully arranged alongside the bathtub. One of the bottles was empty. It had taken that much to fill the Illyrian-sized tub until you and Azriel were both comfortably submerged in bubbles that smelled of sea salt and lavender. A platter of food — courtesy of the Cottage — gleamed on the low-rise table beside you, cheese, nuts, and cuts of meat half-eaten. 

Azriel tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in honey, and placed it on your tongue. He tilted his head back in thought. “The first floor bath?” He suggested. 

“The first floor has a bath?” 

Azriel smiled and you heard the scratching of pen on parchment as his shadows wrote down the room. 

Just this morning Rhysand had gently knocked on the doors of your mind, asking if you and Azriel would ever come back home to Velaris or if they should consider themselves abandoned. The prospect of hiding away in the Cottage forever was tempting, but you and Azriel had agreed on a flexible deadline — you’d both return to Velaris once you had… hmmmm, marked each room of the Cottage. 

“We haven’t done it outside.” You offered, looking out the window. The mid-afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, rendering even the birds and insects drowsy. 

“We agreed the porch counts, remember?”

“Since when?” You sat up straight, water sloshing around your waist. 

“Since the last time we slept there two weeks ago.” 

You rolled your hips down, resting your head on his shoulder and peering up with a look that would have put him on his knees if he wasn’t already on his back. 

“We’ll add it to the list.” Azriel breathed out tightly. 

There was more scratching of pen on paper. 

You decided that of all the rooms in the cottage, you liked the conservatory the best. When Azriel was making those beautiful noises against you, arms wrapped around your back and pressing you into the floor, you could watch the stars as they moved in the sky and drew close to the Shadowsinger. When it rained you could feel the electricity splinter through the sky, almost in tune with your body. 

Azriel was partial to the library in the second floor’s west wing. You’d spent days there propped up on every wall and bent over every piece of furniture until you could name over a dozen species of wood. 

You blushed just to think about it as you sank beneath the bath bubbles. 

Azriel sat in a chair beside the tub, damp hair curling over his forehead as he read aloud from a book you’d stumbled upon during your… activities. 

The frenzy had finally burned its way through your system, leaving you sore in places you didn’t know possible. It had taken you and Azriel two days just to sleep off the exhaustion, tangled up in bedsheets heavy with your scent. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar. Azriel wordlessly kissed your temple, slipping his hand into your hair and dragging his nails along your scalp until you were sighing in contentment. 

This… this felt right. You wanted Azriel to know that he was everything. He was the wash of color over the world that makes things bright and safe. He was the only person you felt perfectly at home with. Someone to trust with your body and heart as much as your mind. Someone whose touch you could never dream of shying away from ever again. 

I know, my Y/n. Hazel eyes met yours, warm and soft. And you must know that you are everything to me as well. 

Everything? You smiled softly at him.

Everything. He replied.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

*insert meme* Why is it spicy?

This was my first try writing anything explicit so... hope you enjoyed it! Only took us half a year and 100k+ words to get to a spicy scene LOL

^^ this has been both my reaction, and Y/n's reaction

As always, I appreciate you immensely for reading and would love feedback/to hear what you guys think! We're nearing the end folks!

[court-jester-stuff]

Sharing a room with a not so stranger

Azriel x reader

Warnings?: reader is shorter than Azriel, not beta we die like suriel, kinda rushed? idk it's 23:54 so meh enjoy

Note: the library is based of off the acropolis and what I image Olympus would look like, so is all the rest of the Day Court. pictures from pinterest

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

"So sorry to bother you," a voice said from behind you. "Can I ask you for a favour?" Turning around you came face to face with Elain. She was dressed beautifully, a light pink coloured dress with a corset with flowers embroidered onto it, sleeves of the shoulders with on the shoulders and wrist embroidered the same flowers as the corset. Her hair was loose with a few braids which all had flowers in it. Truly you’d be lying if you said she didn’t look pretty.

“That depends on what the favour is of course.” You answered her with a smile. In all honesty you hoped it would be something entertaining, these past couple of days have been fun here at the Day Court but you were slowly growing bored. This whole event was to celebrate summer solstice, the Night Court was specifically invited by High Lord Helion as a means to grow a stronger alliance. A full two weeks of celebrating and getting to know each other.

Elain looked behind her and when you followed her gaze you could see Lucien standing in the doorway smiling at her and giving her an encouraging nod.

“Would you, by any chance, …” she trailed of looking at me with an air of hesitance. Giving her a little push you asked:

“Would I…?”

Elain sighed a little but finished her sentence. “Would you mind if Azriel and I switched rooms?” She paused to let the words sink in. “I would really like to try giving this a chance and we already asked Azriel and he’s fine with it, but only if you are. And I know you two aren’t all that familiar with each other but I would really appreciate this.”

At last she stopped talking to gage your reaction only to see a little smile on your face. “My dear, I would not mind at all. You two deserve this moment to try and see where this all leads you.” She perked up at your words and you could see Lucien visibly relax in the corner of your eye. “If Azriel is comfortable with this all then I do not mind.”

She thanked you and said that they would be sure to inform Azriel of you agreeing before they both took their leave.

Once they did take their leave you started thinking about what you just agreed to. In all honesty you and Azriel hadn’t really spoken in quite a while. As members of the Inner Circle it was kind of inevitable but that still didn’t change the conversations you had had with him.

He never seemed to speak much, especially not to you. Only during the rare times that he would ask for help with an injury would you two really talk. And even then it was mostly you talking to him about how to take care of the wound even though he has probably done so a million times.

You’d always find him looking at you with deep eyes whenever you’d look up from your work. He never really seemed to take his eyes off of you while you were working. Whether he was guarded or something else you couldn’t quite decide.

Outside of that there were a few conversations you had had with the spymaster. But lately that had started to change. You were in the habit of sneaking away during each social event to lend yourself a moment of fresh air before stepping back into the crowded rooms. However these last couple of, hell, years you always seemed to get the company of a certain shadowsinger wherever you had decided to sneak of to.

Not that you mind, in all honesty you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him. Each conversation, each interaction left you yearning for more. You wanted to hear him speak to you, you wanted to know who he was outside of this persona he had been given.

Deciding that you should try to make things easier for the both of you lead to you walking back to the room you previously shared with Elain with the goal in mind of tidying up a bit. Once there you put away any clothing that was lying around, noting that all of Elain her stuff had already been moved.

The room wasn’t big by any means, in fact you and Elain had specifically requested a smaller sized room. There was a wall with a huge window opposite of the door with the bed against the left wall and a couch on the opposite side next to the window.

Once you deemed the room clean enough you realized that the room might be cozy for you and Elain but Azriel would have trouble getting comfortable in the bed were there someone else in it. Deciding that there wouldn’t be enough space on the bed for both you while allowing his wings to rest comfortably and without the fear of accidental touching, you made the decision to move a pillow and blanket to the couch. Moving that what was on the night stand to the little table next to the couch.

A knock on the door made you pause. Assuming that it was either Elain or Azriel you went to open the door, only to be surprised by a smiling Helion.

“High Lord.” You said with a small bow of the head. You’ve always liked the man, he was polite and kind. A bit of a flirt maybe but still aware of boundaries. And he ruled his court exceptionally well.  All people were well taken care of and very rarely did they find themselves in conflict with other courts. Compared to the Night Court which carried the looming darkness of The Court of Nightmares and Hewn City that was very admirable.

“Oh you, there is no need for such titles. Call me Helion, please.” He chuckled a bit at the formality of it all but still kept a smile on his face as he corrected you.

“Well then Helion, is there anything I can help you with?”

His smile widened a little at your question. His eyes sparkling a little. “I heard that you take care of a large portion of all the knowledge that is stored in the Night Courts library, I must say it is quite the collection. One to be proud of.”

Mirroring his smile you replied with a hint of proudness to your voice. “Yes, indeed. I travel a lot and when I do I can’t help but try to take at least one book with me to further the collection you speak so highly of.”

“Well, the Day Court does have quite the library as well and I thought that I could interest you in taking a look around.” He gestured with his hand down the left corridor.

Your gaze followed the direction from his hand before looking back inside the room. Everything seemed in order for when Azriel would arrive. “Is it just down the hallway?” You ask.

He shakes his head with the same smile on his face that has been there since you opened the door. “Why don’t I show you there, it’s a bit of a maze in here.”

You nodded and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind you before making your way to the library. The empty hallways were filled with easy going small talk between the two of you before you eventually reached the library.

To say that it was beautiful would be an understatement. It was truly breathtaking. It looked like a place where gods would walk, the high ceilings and windows with no glass allowed as much natural light in as possible. The walls were a cream colour with beautiful paintings on the ceilings.

You should remember to tell Feyre so she could come get a look.

The bookcases were white with golden accents, they crowded the entire room except for the space right before the window. Leaving enough space for several couches and a table surrounded by chairs. Even the wood of the furniture was a light colour.

You don’t know how long you simply admired the space but when you turned around Helion was looking at you with a proud smile and a look of admiration on his face.

He clears his throat and says: “It’s beautiful is it not?” You weren’t really sure what to say. It was beautiful but outside of the beauty of it you were also surprised by its sheer size. Maybe it was the lighting but it looked so much more spacious than the library at the House Of Wind.

“It is very beautiful, I honestly don’t really know what to say. The lighting and colours are so much brighter than those of the ones we have. Even the books match the pale colours. And the amount of books here is admirable. This truly is a fine library.”

“Well, I am more than happy to have shown it to you. Please, feel free to look around and spent as much time here as you please. I’m afraid I cannot stay with you for much longer, duty calls, but rest assured that you are more then welcome in this library. Or even my court.”

You smiled slightly at his words and told him you would keep it in mind. It wasn’t for long before he excused himself and left you to your own company.

You roamed around looking for any books that peaked your interest and finally settled on a handful of them. You found another window with seating space, albeit this on smaller, and settled down on the plush couch facing slightly away from the window.

You don’t know how much time you spend sitting there but when you finally looked up from the third book that you were reading you realized that the sun had set and the sky was now adorned with stars. Granted, there weren’t as many or as bright of ones as in Valaris but it was a sight none the less.

Deciding to call it a night you got up and realised just how long you had been sitting in that same position you stretched and gathered the books you had laying around you. Walking up to the desk you left the books there for someone to find in the morning.

The hallways were quiet now, beside your own steps and breathing there as nothing to be heard.

Ones you had made your way back to your room you were very careful while opening the door as to not startle or wake up Azriel.

When the door was open far enough to slip inside you did so carefully, the room was bathed in moonlight and given the light you could see Azriel’s sleeping figure on the bed. He had moved himself fairly far to the window leaving enough space for a second person to lay down next to him if needed.

But you didn’t need to and getting in the bed would mean having to move his left wing out of the way and you weren’t about to touch the one place that Illyrians loathed to be touched.

Quietly making you way to the bathroom you quickly changed into night clothing and treaded very lightly to the couch. You laid down and when you finally settled you felt something twirling itself around your fingers. Looking down you realised it was a shadow. You smiled at it, mouthing good night before it parted from you to return to their master and with that you went off into slumber.

When you woke up again there was not yet any sunlight in the room. You looked over at the clock on the wall above the door and noted that it was almost time for sunrise. You looked over at Azriel realising he was still fast asleep and decided to take one of the books of your little makeshift nightstand before shuffling to the open balcony.

It must be a dream for winged people to be able to simply fly up to their rooms from the outside without having to first enter and walk both the hallways and stairs.

You sat down on a sofa that was located opposite to where the bed stood so you could keep an eye on Azriel in case he were to awake.

Before long the sunrise started, it was truly magnificent. The colours weren’t simply red, pink and yellow. No, you were sure you could make out nearly the entire rainbow from the sky.

You once again felt a little coolness around your fingers which finally prompted you to look away from the scenery.

“Hello you, we meet again.” You smiled softly at it while speaking in a whisper, mindful of the early time. “What are doing over here, hm? Shouldn’t you be guarding your master?”

It moved around your fingers and palm before deciding to return to the figure on the bed. Looking over you realised you had been caught making small talk with a shadow.

From the bed a tired looking Azriel looked at you with eyes of wonder. “Good morning.” You greeted. “You should go back to sleep, it’s still very early.” Which granted it was. Looking at the clock once more you saw that it read six.

He hummed as if in thought before turning his head into the pillows and stretching. His legs coming out from beneath the blanket and his wings stretching wide. They nearly hit the wall on his right from how wide they were.

He relaxed again before letting himself fall back into the mattress. For a bit you thought he had taken your advice but alas he started turning so he could sit up in bed.

His hair was frizzled and stood a little upright. He had dark circles under his eyes and a sleepy look covering his face. He blinked a few times before moving to sit with his legs over the side of the bed. The blanked had fallen and you couldn’t help but look at his chest, the muscles well defined, quite a few scars, some bigger than the others and a tattoo covering the entirety of his upper chest. It looked just like the shadows that had started swirling around him again.

Curling through his hair and around his ear, likely whispering little things they noticed or deemed important enough.

Deciding the stop gaping at the male you moved your eyes back to the other side, the sunset nearly over by now. Even though only a matter of two to three minutes could have one by the sun had risen fast. Likely a Day Court thing. It shone brightly and you could feel it’s light gently ceres your skin.

Feeling a presence nearby you noticed that Azriel had started moving towards you, yawing in the process before settling down next to you in the sofa.

You sat in comfortable silence for a bit before he spoke. “The sunrise is likely the only thing I enjoy about this court.” You smiled gently at his words before looking over at him.

He was looking at the sunrise with a small smile on his face before he turned his attention to you. His eyes seemed to soften a little bit more when they met yours.

“How did you sleep? I heard you come in quite late and you were up early.” He noted with a small furrow of his brow. Although the gentle smile stayed on his face.

“I slept pretty decent actually. I had lost myself in a book in the library so I was back rather late, I am sorry if I woke you.” You replied back, spoken in soft voices.

He assured you that you had not awoken him, rather he himself were still awake.

“I noticed one of my shadows with you this morning, they don't usually do that. Have they done that before? Because I’ll tell them off if they make you uncomfortable, although I must say that it did not seem that way just now.”

You beamed slightly at his words. “I don’t mind at all, in fact they are rather nice.” You smiled a little brighter as some of them immediately darted towards you, some playing with your fingers other roaming around, a few even went into your hair.

Azriel looked slightly startled as they did this. “I think last night while I went to lay down was the first time. Whichever one it seemed to have wanted to come say goodnight to me.” You thought for a bit, admiring them before realisation hit you. “Wait, actually, I think they might have done that before. Back during Solstice a few of them curled around my arm when I passed you. I completely forgot about that.”

You looked over at him and he seemed to be deep in thought, his brow was really furrowed now and his smile was no longer. When he didn’t seem to snap out of it you placed your hand on his wrist.

He blinked in surprise before looking at you hand on him which had him frowning once more.

You removed your hand before clearing you throat. “Sorry, I would have taken your hand but you seem to always shy away when people do that. I shouldn’t have assumed that your wrist would be any different.”

He looked up at you expression unchanging. He opened his mouth to say something right as a knock sounded from the door. You looked over at it before deciding to go over and see who it was. You looked back over at him to see him still staring. You gave him a little smile, after apologizing again you stood up and made your way to the door.

You opened it just after another knock sounded and were surprised to see your own High Lord.

He looked slightly surprised by you before giving a smile. “Well good morning, it seems our dear Azriel is in good hands then.” He chuckled softly, mindful of those still sleeping.

Just as you were about to ask him what was wrong or what he had meant you felt a hand on your waist. While the other grasped the door besides your head.

“Can we help you Rhys?” Azriel sounded kind of agitated, a clear difference from simple moments ago. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because Rhysand was here or because you touched his wrist.

“Not necessarily, I simply wanted to check in on you both. I had heard from Feyre that Elain and our dear Azzy here had switched rooms.” He said the last part while grinning at you.

Before either of you could say anything else Azriel decided that the High Lord and his brother had overstayed his welcome. “If you aren’t here for a decent reason could you let us be?”

He surprised you with that but the high fea before you seemed unbothered, maybe even pleased.

“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want to bother you two. Remember that meeting we have at nine.” He barely finished speaking when Azriel pulled you back into him begore closing the door.

You both stood there for a moment until you decided to turn around. Only then did you notice how close he really was and how very bare his chest still was.

After a second of standing in a daze staring at his chest and tattoo you seemed to come back to reality when you moved backwards a step, which in turn caused your back to hit the door. You looked up and Azriel followed your step until his arm was pressed into the door above your head.

He leaned in slightly while you tilted your head upwards to try and look at him properly. If you didn’t know better you’d say he was blushing.

“I don’t mind you touching my wrist. Or my hand.” He paused while looking at you. He leaned in even more, noses nearly touching. “I never mind when it’s you.”

You both held eye contact between each other until his gaze flicked over your face as if searching for something. Eventually he pulled away and you smiled at him, hoping he couldn’t hear the loud drumming of your heart.

Later you found yourself once again in the library. Azriel left at eight, presumably for the meeting Rhysand was talking about. And given that you were once again alone in your room and that you could read the books you had with you you could read another time you decided to return to the library.

A good portion of the day had passed, before you knew it the empty plate upon which the dinner that one of the helpers had given you had been cleared and replaced with coffee.

You finished yet another book and decided to try and find a book you had been looking for for a while. While strolling through the aisles you couldn’t help but have the feeling that you were being watched.

You wondered if it was something alike the House or Byraxsis. Although you doubted that something as ‘terrifying’ could be found in the Day Court.

Not to lie you had always enjoyed the presence of Byraxsis, you would read to it after a long day. And sometimes, just sometimes they would ask a question or ask for a book you could read.

You missed them sometimes, although the same cannot be said about Cassian.

When you reached for a book you noticed that you were once again joined by a little shadow. You smiled at it before returning to looking for your book.

When you were about to enter another aisle the little shadow decided to pull you a different way. You ended up three aisles down from where you were going. The little shadow kept going before stopping before a specific bookcase. You looked around it for a bit, curious at what the littlz thing would want to show you and that’s when you saw just the book you were looking for.

When you went to thank the little one, you realized that it was nowhere to be found.

Shrugging it off you decided to focus on the matter at hand. To get the book that was placed about a meter and a half above you. You tried to reach it by standing on your tiptoes before someone reached out above you to take it of the shelve.

You immediately recognized the scars on the hands, the siphons and the little shadows that had once again decided to dance along your skin.

Lowering your hand you turned around to see Azriel leaning over you in the same way he had been that morning. Except this time he was smiling softly, it tugged on a heart string to see him smile like that. Gods what you wouldn’t do to see him smile like that more.

“A bit short aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question as much as it was a tease. You huffed but smiled and thanked him for the book. But just as you went to reach for it he held it out of your reach. The smile on his face widened at your playful glare. You reached for it again but this time he held it above his head. So you decided to step closer until you were practically chest to chest and place one hand on his chest and raise one to reach for the book.

He seemed surprised by your boldness and movement that his arm went slack and you managed to lower it and grab the book.

You smiled at the look on his face and patted his chest. You took a step back.

“I’m surprised to see you here. Wasn’t expecting it.” You said softly to respect the space.

He shrugged and smiled. “Maybe I wanted to read and saw a damsel in distress.” You laughed a little, denying being a damsel or in distress. He leaned in closer with is head and upper body and added. “Or maybe I just wanted to see you.”

You flushed at that and he laughed quietly, deciding that you were red enough he gestured for you to follow while he offered his arm. Which you took.

He led you to where you had sat yesterday and took a book of his own. He sat down besides you on the couch and started reading.

You finished your book rather fast and decided to read another and another. As did he, only he didn’t read nearly half of what you read.

Once it started getting late, and both of you began to get hungry he announced that you should be retire to the bedroom. You obliged, still you toom the books with you to the front desk so they could be placed where they needed to be. He smiled at you once that happened and once again offered his arm.

Back in the room, you both decided to wear something more comfortable. Azriel had once again ditched his shirt and opted for loose black sweatpants instead of his leathers.

The food was delivered to the door and you both ate in silence until he spoke up.

“Why did you sleep on the couch tonight?" You raised your head from your food and blinked at him. “I mean there was enough space for us both and as much as it is pretty that couch does not look comfortable.”

You smiled perhaps a bit sheepish and said: “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you had already moved so for to the right and still there was little space. I definitely would have touched you, which I thought you were uncomfortable with. And I would have had to move your wing and even now that is a boundary I will not cross. Especially not in your sleep.”

He smiled softly at you and his eyes softened. “I wouldn’t mind you sleeping in the bed with me. Not at all.”

And so that’s how you ended up next to the shadowsinger. It was well past midnight and it appears that Azriel had found sleep, the same could not be said for you.

The blanket had little weight and was very thin. But getting out of the bed would mean waking Azriel zo you bared with it.

After a count you turned your head to Azriel to find him already looking at you. Startled at first your eyes widened before turning into a smile to match his own. You turned on your side to look at him better and did he look good.

His sleepy smile paired with that dammed look in his eyes.

“Why do you look at me like that?” you asked.

A beat passed, then he sighed and said: “Because you are simply stunning.”

A blush crept up your face. “So are you, dammed handsome truly.”

You thought that he would laugh or say something back but instead his face faltered. It hurt to watch that, you frowned and wondered why that happened. Did he not believe you? Does he think you’re lying?

No, that’s not possible, I mean look at him. But his smile went completely and you felt such dread seeing it ago, and that’s when it happened.

Snap

…

“You…. You’re..” You weren’t sure what to say. It’s like your entire world got flipped upside down.

“Wait, you can feel it?” He said, leaning on his elbow. Your mouth opened and closed before you nodded with disbelief. He knew?

His smile started returning before he started reaching for me. Although he stopped abruptly, he looked at his hands and before I knew is I had taken them in mine and placed a kiss on the knuckles, the back of them and both palms.

His eyes glossed and his voice sounded so little as he asked: “You don’t mind? You don’t mind that it is me that is your….” His voice trailed off at the end.

“I do not, truly I am utterly delighted.” You took the side of his face in your hand while guiding him to lay back down. “I am more than happy to be your mate, Azriel.”

His eyes scanned mine for a lie, a single hesitation and when he found none he said upright and brought both wings to the correct sides. He gestured for me to sit up so I did. He laid back down with now the wing beneath me.

I hesitated and he told me once again: “I don’t mind when it’s you.”

So begrudgingly you laid down on his arm atop his wing while the other draped over you, along with his arm and shadows. The added weight was welcome and so was the warmth against the chilly air.

“How long have you known?” You ask.

“Remember Solstice two years ago, when we were having one of our conversations again?” You nodded. “And how all of a sudden I had to make the worst excuse ever to leave?” You nodded again.

“Well, you had said that my shadows were adorable and you called them ‘little ones’ ande then it just… snapped. I panicked cuz I did not know what to do, I almost spilled it all right then and there but I felt like you deserved better… or at least for it to be natural. Honestly even before the bond I really liked you, you should ask Rhys and Cass. They have some stories of me trying to impress you and it going terrifically wrong.”

You laughed and stared in wonder, you mate is a dork. And you love him. So you told him just that.

“I would love to het to know you better, truly. But know that even before and now still, I love you. My mate is such a dork and I’d love to hear all the stories.”

His arms wrapped around you tighter and the shadows seemed to do the same. And so you both laid there in each other’s arms.

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs

Part I

<Read Part II here>

Alucard x female reader

Synopsis: A flirty, playful night with Adrian takes a dark turn. (1.6k words)

TW: Dark fantasy, horror, blood, smut (explicit) 🔞

This is my first attempt at smut, and who better than my bby Alucard as MC. I hope you enjoy it!

“…And there, in the dead of night, under a moon so maroon, the White Wolf prowled — ravenous. Sturdy were its footsteps, calculated were its gait. Ahead, still as a rosebud in a windless twilight, its prey lay splayed out — helpless. 

Something about its small intakes of breath, its unsuspecting demeanour, made it all the more enticing for the imposing predator. Ever so slowly, the White Wolf, eyes like the golden gleam of a rising dawn, emerged from the thicket, pressing forward, inching closer, closer, closer…”

Body hovering over mine, Alucard’s words were a rasp above my cheek. The antiquated tome he had been reading from now a forgotten humdrum between our bodies. As velvet lips collided into me, I melded into his being. He was a hypnotic wave crashing into shore, and I was but delicate driftwood being dragged underwater.

His kiss was insistent, impatient. I had no escape, no cavity of air to quell the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Still, I kept going, because he was the only breath I needed. My fingers clawed ruthlessly at his back — muscle and bone Herculean from years of battling night creatures and evil forces. Skin so utterly cold, yet I wanted — needed — more.  

His body was a frigid storm to my fervent summer. “You are glorious as the solstice sun, darling. With you I am forever warm, within you I live eternally,” the confession falling easy from his lips the day he had taught me how to hunt.

Faces lost in each other, bodies entwined and limbs tugging like our lives depended on it, Alucard let his hand roam under my nightdress, finally finding solace in the swell of my chest. I shifted slightly at the unusual chill. Was he ever this cold?

Over the months I had become accustomed to his half human intricacies. His unnerving stillness, his undeniable thirst for blood try as he might to hide it, his erratic need to stay up nights in a row roaming the castle “just to be sure…” 

I was no fool. Those witching hours almost always had him back in his childhood room — he would stare, as if entranced, at the spot he had staked his father. And I would see the grief in his eyes — the absolute contrition at his travesty, one he wished he could take back, but couldn’t. 

Alucard, the son of the great Dracula and benevolent Lisa Tepes, the almighty dhampir. A being so beautiful he could bring a kingdom to its knees, yet one so cruelly tormented by his past.

“Baby, eyes on me.” My eyes fluttered open, realising I was lost in the wrong moment. He crashed his lips into mine once again. 

As if in a bid to stop my obsessive thinking, he started to grab at my breast, kneading furiously, thumb toying with my nipple. I leaned in closer, but alas my human endurance had reached its limits and I pulled away for air. 

“I want to know what happened to the prey. I am most opposed to unfinished stories,” I tried to play coy in between ragged breaths. Nose to mine, he wore a smirk on his handsome face. He had a playful glint to his stare — contemplative, as if taunting me to continue with my officious fib. 

Alucard picked the tome up from my stomach, grazing his fingers ever so slightly over my abdomen. He trailed the book slowly down my navel, its cracked spine against my bare skin sent fireworks to my core. I watched with bated breath as the print finally landed where he wanted it — in between my legs. He dragged its spine down, then up again, repeating the motion, teasing, eyes never leaving mine. 

Satisfied with how wet my undergarment had become, he hushed, “I think it better if I showed you instead. Don’t you agree, princess?” 

“Ye..yesss,” 

“Do you like that?”

“Yesss…”

“Open your legs wider.”

I obeyed. Submitting to him was easy. Too easy.

“Let’s see just how wet you are for me, hmm?” 

Without warning, Alucard ripped my soaking cloth off my hips and plunged two fingers inside. I cried out at the shock and how good it felt, and as if by instinct grabbed his hands and guided them deeper into me. Alucard let out a stifled moan at my brazenness, his erection growing fast under his black britches.

He watched with eyes half-lidded, completely spellbound as I bounced into his hand, my breasts rising and falling with every thrust. Body and mind so turned on he reached urgently into his pants and started stroking his length. 

For a long moment we just sat there, eyes locked on each other, legs spread wide, our sex stimulated. And what a profane sight it must have been for our bed chamber was filled with nothing but wanton “fucks” and the squelching of his fingers coated in my lust. 

I fucked myself into his fingers harder, and reached desperately for his cock. With more force than necessary, he caught both my wrists with his free hand and pinned them to my stomach. “That’s for later,” he chided. 

Alucard was usually wary of his inhuman strength around me. But tonight, tonight he was carnal, rough, like an animal being let out of its cage. His knuckles went white with how much pressure he had put on my wrists, and I bit my lip knowing it was going to bruise. 

As if to edge me further, Alucard pulled his fingers out and gazed at them ever so intently, admiring the slather of fluid glistening like diamonds on his digits. If his etherealness hadn’t killed me, then perhaps what he did next would have driven me close to death. With deliberate calm, he brought his fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue over my juices, savouring every single trickle.

My dhampir, hair like a divine cascade of golden waterfalls, on his knees, drinking my lust as if it were vital sustenance, yet all that he was was in direct contrast to his reverence — powerful, dominant and deadly. I marvelled at his masculine elegance — the way his pectorals tensed as he licked his fingers dry, how his faded sanguine scar stood distinct against his alabaster skin, the definition of muscles that ran down his pelvis…

I swallowed. 

“God, you taste so good. Only for me, yes?” 

“Yesss…” Being thoroughly educated and well-read, I was fairly ashamed it was all the vocabulary I could muster.

And it would seem that more crude words were soon to follow, as Alucard then dove in between my thighs and sent his tongue plunging — deep, depraved — into my clenching walls.  

“Fuuuck, Adrian!” 

Hearing his name sent him over the edge, and he started sucking hard — wet pillow lips against wet pillow flesh. I was heaven and hell collided, rising from it like the luminescent birth of a star. I ground my core into his face, hands grasping his woven-gold hair, willing him to dive further into me. 

Alucard groaned in pleasure against my clit. Powerful, cold hands gripped my thighs apart, and my sweet lover lay soft kisses to the insides, thumbs expertly caressing my sensitive folds. In all his vampire glory, he bared his fangs ever so slightly, sharp teeth just barely peeking through, grazing them over my clit and thighs, nibbling, never breaking skin. I was undone. 

“Adrian…Adrian please…”

“Please what?”

I was all heavy pants and delirious to give a coherent reply.

Head still positioned at the apex of my thighs, his eyes raked over his masterpiece — delicate features coated in sweat, nipples hard from stimulation and the soppy, pulsating cunt laid out like a feast inches from his mouth. What a mess he had made of me, and a mess he was most certainly proud of. 

From in between my legs, Adrian was a fallen angel from a paradise unknown. His eyes like gold afire were so wholly glazed over they looked like one with the smouldering flames nestled atop our chamber candles. 

Patience waning, he asked again. “Please…” humming the words into my clit…“what?” A loud moan escaped my lips. I arched my back in sheer pleasure, feeling the build up in my core.

He dragged his fangs against my thighs, eyes fixated on mine, drinking in my desire. 

“I want…I want…” my chest heaving so violently from how close I was to release.

“What do you want?” Adrian moved to whisper against my ear. This was too much. 

“I want…I want you to turn me.”

Alucard went very still, his pupils blown wide. Everything went very still. The flames lost its dance, the curtains absent of sway.

“What did you say?” His voice was still water with undercurrents of danger. 

His statuesque figure towered over me, pinning me under. 

“I said, I want you to turn me.” 

Alucard held my stare, and as I took them in, an unearthly shadow seemed to lurk beneath those incandescent irises. 

If my question threw him off guard, his unsettling stillness made it clear he wasn’t most fond of surprises. It took a long moment before he finally moved, his supernatural speed having him by the window in seconds. 

Frustration soon shrouded my orgasmic high. I forced my spent body off the reprieve of our mattress. He was going to answer me whether he liked it or not.

“Adrian! You cannot disregard my question any longer! I’ve wanted this from the first time you made love to me, don’t pretend it was never asked of you,” exasperation evident in my tone.

“Peril or not, I am not afraid. I…”

A sudden squall of wind extinguished the flickering flames. Our bed chamber was plunged into chasmic darkness, summoning a bitter chill that seeped through the wooden floors. There, still as a predator hunting prey, hovered the glowing golden orbs of Alucard's eyes, the blacks of his pupils far wider than I’d ever seen. 

“A…Adrian?” 

Part II

[symbiomancy]

be aware wolf —werewolf

—summary: you venture into the woods to hunt for werewolves | 1.5k | AO3 | monster masterlist

—warnings: monster x human, monsterfucking, p in v sex, knotting, creampie, stomach bulge, mounting, outdoor sex, implied voyeurism

It’s a simple cycle. Enter the woods. Keep the local werewolf population under control. Retrieve any animal carcasses you come across in the woods. Make pelts out of said carcasses. Keep them or sell them. Receive payment from the town for your hard work. Pack your things and find the next town with a werewolf problem.

There are quite a few steps, but it’s a simple, straightforward cycle.

You sling your shotgun onto your back and place a hand onto the handgun at your hip. Your other hand rests on the belt of silver bullets around your hips. The ground is dry and this place hasn’t seen rain in weeks. There are no tracks to go off so you settle for scouting tufts of fur.

Something catches in the corner of your eye as you step around a grand oak.

You whip your head to the side and meet the pair of yellow eyes from the distance. It’s late August, and the blessing of the summer solstice only lasts so long. The sun is long gone and the full moon has crested. Darkness creeps around you, the tall trees shielding you from the moon’s glow. A cool breeze caresses your bare arms. You can just about make out the creature’s outline in the shadows. It’s large, maybe about 6 feet tall.

Slowly, you slip the shotgun from your shoulder and raise the barrel in the wolf’s direction. You whistle.

“Here boy,” you call. The pair of eyes blink at you languidly. “C’mere. I got treats for ya.” Indeed, you do; an opened pack of beef jerky in your back pocket. “C’mon, I have a whole pack of you to hunt tonight and I like to be efficient with my time.”

The werewolf rises onto its hind legs. Oh, great, you think, there’s different species in the same genus for these fucks. Perhaps 8 feet tall is more accurate.

You adjust your hold and cock the shotgun.

The werewolf is gone in a blink.

Your pulse picks up and you whirl on your heel, shotgun still raised. These things are fast, always are but they’re also big. How hard is it to shoot one?

The sound of a branch breaking has you whirling around, finger on the trigger to take the shot —

A claw strikes out at you and catches on your belt, ripping it like it’s paper. Your belt and the bullets in their holster disappear from your waist, your pants ripped and a superficial gash in your hip. You lose your footing on a protruding root and fall onto your back, barely keeping your head from slamming against a thick root.

The werewolf drops onto all fours legs, standing over you, its front paws planted on either side of your head. Its warm breath fans against your face, your arms. Its teeth are bared. Saliva dribbles from its maw.

You spare a glance away from its face to assess your situation — maybe there’s a way to roll out from underneath it and scramble towards your shotgun, wherever it landed. Instead, you find yourself staring at its bulbous member, fully erect. It’s long and thick, precum glistening on its tip. You look away, heat flooding to your cheeks and cunt. In your defense, it looked at you first.

You slowly draw your foot back and strike out, hit the beast’s hind leg. It howls in pain and you scramble out from underneath it, roll onto your stomach and stumble upright. Your shotgun is just a few steps to the right.

A heavy weight slams into you from behind and sends you onto the ground. Your jaw collides with the ground and your teeth snap together. You groan, rest your weight on one elbow and place your free hand against your jaw, pressing against the sore muscles. Hot breath fans the back of your exposed neck and something heavy and slick presses against the flesh of your hip. U kick again and scramble forward, your gun just about in reach. Claws swipe at ur body, snag on your shirt and tatter ur barely intact pants.

The cool night air hits your throbbing cunt. You try to ignore it, want to ignore it so bad, to finish the job and go take care of yourself — the werewolf shoves its fanged snout against the back of your neck. You still, heart leaping in your chest. Its heavy member rests on the swell of your ass, hips rocking back and forth, shallow thrusts as if it’s looking for a warm hole. Your pussy clenches at the thought.

It finds that warm hole, pressing its cock against your entrance, just barely breaching it, and you groan. It’s not going to fit but damned if the beast won’t try to make it fit. Maybe it will fit. The wolf grabs your waist — fuck, it’s hand is big enough to nearly wrap around your entire torso — and jerks its hips forward. You gasp as it pushes in all at once, filling you so completely, so deliciously that you nearly see stars. It’s so big and thick, you swear you can feel every vein and ridge of it.

The wolf snarls, beads of saliva dripping onto the back of your neck and thrusts forward shallowly. You struggle onto your knees. It pulls out shallowly and thrusts back in until the bulb at the bottom of its shaft nudges against your pussy.

Heat pools in your stomach as the werewolf drags its cock in and out of your hot cunt. The ridges and veins of his cock feel like bliss, have you gasping for air. Its furry hips connect with yours, the sound of your bodies colliding muffled by his coat. But you’re so wet, every thrust into your sopping cunt is nothing but a wet squelch. It thrusts in without resistance, going in all the way and pulling out with ease. It pushes so deep into you, drags against your walls like nobody ever has. Your thighs are wet, almost shaking at the strain of holding yourself up on all fours.

Your hand slips out from underneath you and your shoulder collides with the ground. The werewolf presses forward — it mounts you, places a clawed hand next to your head for balance and drives in with newfound vigor. The tip of its cock hit so deep in you that you nearly see stars, try to blabber something, something incoherent between ‘no’ and ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please please please please’. The wolf pistons in and out of our shopping cunt. Its tongue lolls out of its mouth, slobbers onto the back of your neck. The bulb at his crotch nudges against our opening with every thrust and dives slightly in each time. It’s wide and big and you gasp a pitiful sound when it slips into you with a painful stretch. It’s too much and too little at the same time. You try to clench around it.

The werewolf pauses and you want to cry out, beg it to keep going, to bully its way into your pussy until you can take its knot. You’re so full, so full, this thing is everywhere, in your pussy, in your guts, in the back of your throat. All you can manage is a pitiful croak before the beast is back on you again, resting its weight on your back. It picks up the pace, ruthlessly pistoning into you, bullying your throbbing, leaking pussy, rutting his bulb against it, almost stuffing it inside. It places one large clawed hand onto your thigh and pulls it to the side like that will give it more room. Perhaps it does but the stretch of your cunt and your thighs is too overwhelming to not focus on.

You press back against him as much as u can from your contorted position, meet his hips with urs in a frantic attempt to get your release. Your chest heaves as you attempt to match his pace, pressure building in the pit of your stomach. You’re babbling now, you absolutely are, begging for it to push you over the edge and stuff you full. It speeds up as if it understands you, pressing its weight on top you. Your cheek scrapes against the ground and in the corner of your eye, you can make out the bulge in your stomach as the werewolf thrusts in. It’s too much, too good, too deep, rubbing against that spot, knocking the breath from your lungs with every thrust.

You come with a wail, pussy throbbing and clenching around its cock, sucking it back in to keep it there. The wolf howls, head thrown back and buries its knot inside you. Its cock spasms and spills into you. Rope after rope of hot cum coasts your insides until you’re full, and then some. You feel it slide down your thighs, dribble from your pussy. You try to adjust yourself to get a look and clench involuntarily around the beast when you spot the shape of his cock protruding from your stomach.

The cool night air feels pleasant against your heated skin.

You look away from the unholy sight buried in your guts and let your eyes unfocus to bask in your post-orgasmic bliss.

One, two, three, four —

There are at least four pairs of yellow eyes observing you from the darkness.

note: I'm open to hearing about dead batteries!! be as graphic or non-graphic as you'd like:)

banner & divider by @/cafekitsune

[ma1dita]

hi can i get one ticket for the graveyard smash starring luke castellan with a 🍬 and 🍫? thank u!!

bury a friend

[STARRING: LUKE CASTELLAN x hephaestus!reader ; “I’ve just never seen you this mad before.” “Really? Now? God, you have terrible timing.” wc: 1.3k a/n: MDNI- human sacrifice, dubcon, outdoor sex, afab!virgin!reader, fingering, p in v, mentions of creampie, forced orgasm, errr... mentions of gore

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You were only supposed to fix his sword.

It started as a favor—you and him weren’t really friends but there weren’t many older kids at camp and word got out that the steel he brought cost him his quest, or so he says. Luke Castellan came back from San Francisco wanting more. A hero like him believed he only deserved the best, and who were you to argue? You were set on giving him just that, the best welder out of all of your siblings—you could be put to the test and do something remarkable for someone who might actually have a chance of being more than a forgotten memory to your godrents.

You’re so warm. He can’t get over it. Were all children of Hephaestus born with a fire to stoke? 

Your hands feel like fire under his grasp as he leads you to a forest clearing and you stumble—it’s hard to tell where you’re going when it’s dark like this but Luke says he won’t let you fall. He has your arms bound at your waist and perhaps you can’t fall if he isn’t planning on letting go. 

“C’mon. Right up there,” he mumbles, tapping your hip with a cold hand and leading you onto a manmade ledge in the middle of the empty space. Lanterns line the floor, dimly lit flames swaying in the brisk night air, and he’s still gentle in the way he helps you sit properly on the stone. 

He almost doesn’t want to do this.

“Luke? Do we have to do this?” you hesitate, laying back onto the smooth surface as he ties your limbs down with rope from the docks. The fibers rub your wrists and ankles raw, and his eyes almost glow at the sight of you struggling.

His new toy sits in a scabbard attached to his belt. Luke undoes the clasp, propping Backbiter against the wall of the platform near his knee and he starts to pace, muttering something under his breath, “Of course we do. It’s the only way—you need to understand,” Luke says hoarsely, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod. It’s not enough for him.

“TELL ME!” he roars, spit flying onto your cheek as he stands over you, aggressively shaking the front of your orange t-shirt. It was a late night—the sunlight of the summer solstice extending past dinner. No one’s going to save you out here. Luke only has a few hours to get this timing right, and you’re his only shot at this.

“I-I understand. I’ve just never seen you this mad before…” you whimper, pushing your head back against the rock to put some distance between you and the son of Hermes. 

“M’not mad,” he exhales, patting your head like one does a child, “I just need to do this. Say it’s okay.” A question bubbles up your throat, but before you can ask, he’s mounted himself onto your spread legs, pushing up the cotton of your drawstring skirt. Between fluttering eyelashes, you think you see him lick his lips—cold fingers traveling up the expanse of your thighs despite your hesitant cries, “Yes but Luke…I…I’ve never…please....”

“The less you struggle, the easier this will be. I’ll take care of you.”

You nod slowly. Goosebumps ravage your body before he does, soon probing past the floral print of your underwear as he presses his icicles for fingers into your heat, stretching, searching for something deep within you until you cry out, “Help!”

Luke smirks, having you writhing in the palm of his hand and gushing from your cunt at the foreign feeling. You’re a pretty one, a lucky find hidden away in the soot and steel of the armory. Always warm and kind, keeping company with your creations. You’re perfect, and exactly what Kronos wanted. A bright and innocent soul to turn the tides of his fate.

Everything is going to plan—he thrusts another finger into your cunt, spreading you wide and reveling at how warm you feel when he’s knuckle deep. Your mouth is agape in a pitiful moan as you try to tuck your face into your shoulder, feeling the heat pool at the bottom of your belly the more he curls his digits, twisting and turning until your eyes roll.

“Almost ready. Keep it coming, pretty girl. You’re the best, you know that?” he breathes, tracing his fingers over nipples that peak underneath the fabric of standard-issue orange on your chest. The color is acrid against the color of your skin—too bright of a reminder of why Luke has to make a deal with the devil. 

Your eyes widen at the feeling of his thick shaft tapping against your clit almost like someone knocking to be let in. Luke’s not asking for permission though—nothing will stop him from his mission to the Titan. You’ve just never gone this far, inexperience making your legs shake when he nudges them further, “I don’t….” You don’t want this, you want to say, and if you did…not like this.

His eyes are almost black in this light, staring down at you and waiting for you to fight back and say something to ruin his night.

He spears himself into you, straight to the hilt. You could swear you feel him in your lungs. Watching you choke on air with an expressionless gaze, Luke’s thumb rubs away the tear that rolls down your cheek. You decide to watch the stars instead, body jolting at his insistence as you sob into his ear, lips searing against his neck in a broken sound.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters, tucking himself into your neck as he continues to slide in and out of your throbbing pussy, “So so sorry. Gonna make it better, okay?” The searing pain fades as he huffs into your skin, rutting into you like a sick dog. Blood mixes with your arousal squelching around his length. His cock is fatter than it is long, a heavy, pulsing thing that presses deep into your insides. Luke lets a moan slip past his lips, echoing your whines of desperation at the sensations your body is being put through. He can’t help it—you’re too good in all senses of the word. He bites down on your shoulder, smiling at the sound of your staggered wail.

The pleasure makes your brain go fuzzy, and guilt pulls at your core as you clench around him, unaware of what comes next, “Shit, you’re so tight. Cum for me. You have to.”

You don’t know what to say—you can’t string your feelings into a sentence, too wrecked by his cockhead bumping against your g-spot when he tilts his hips at just the right angle.

“I think I’m…No!” you panic at the rush of adrenaline racing through your body—bearing down and tensing and Luke is shushing you, still piercing through your belly as he reaches down and harshly rubs at your clit. You let go—your body is on fire and it’s all his fault. This is all his fault—he grabs your chin, “You like that? Feels good hmm? Told you,” he grits, pushing air through his teeth as he continues to rock into your warmth.

You’re boneless by the time he’s done and belly full of his essence—the shine of the moon reflecting in your eyes and Luke knows now that it is time. He tucks himself back into his shorts, picking up Backbiter from the ground and tracing it’s perfectly crafted edge against the soft of your stomach. 

“Is it over? You said the sword would work after…” The words die out as you shiver, an unfocused gaze meeting Luke’s dark one, void of any emotion and desperation you saw on the boy that begged for your services weeks prior.

“Gods, you have terrible timing. For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

He sinks the blade into you, straight to the hilt. The feeling is almost familiar—it’s so deep that it’s come out the other side, knocking against stone. Blood spills from your wound, the ichor spiraling and spreading into your best creation that no one will even know was yours—forging a weapon of mass destruction as you choke out your last breaths.

Luke sighs, shooting a prayer up into the stars for your soul. If you’re listening, he hopes you know he’s grateful you kept him warm.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is closed for requests but ongoing for the rest of october!

[sodapopwrites]

a ballad of flame and shadow part one

images are not mine! all artwork credits go to termesart for their beautiful drawings!

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

series summary - what's easier to love? a crackling flame or a spiraling shadow? rhysand's sister, emissary of the night court, finds herself delving into her feelings for the seventh son of the high lord of the autumn court while pushing aside something possibly deeper she feels for the night courts infamous spymaster.

chapter summary - before amarantha's party, the emissary of the night court, rhysand's sister, seeks out her lover in the spring court in an attempt to issue a warning of what's to come. she finds a small comfort in his warmth much to the disapproval of her family back home, especially a certain shadowsinger.

word count - 1.6k

read the rest of the series here!

Music floated through the air around her. Fae danced around her in whooshes of color and laughter. She observed the festivities raging around her with a cool separation. 

Her black dress a sharp contrast to the bursts of color covering every person and every inch of her surroundings. The bottom of her dress swished around her ankles with every warm spring breeze. The glittering blue embroidery is a sharp contrast to the sweet pastels adoring the clothes of the revelers.  

Every inch of her out of place. 

She heard her name wrapped in an all too familiar voice. 

Cinnamon and crackling flames. The smell wafted towards her like ember red leaves falling to the ground. She straightened her spine, a small show of composure. She felt him before she saw him. At her back, his breath fanning across the side of her neck as he leant down to whisper in her ear. 

“I never knew shadows celebrated the summer solstice.” 

She turned slowly, facing him at last. 

Lucien Vanserra. 

Small braids weaved their way through the fiery river of hair flowing over his shoulders. His eyes glitter with something roguish as he watches her eyes flit from his hair, across the planes of his chest, and down the tall expanse of him, before coming back up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m here on business.” 

“So you came to spoil the fun.” 

She let her eyes roll before her hand came up to pull on one of his carefully woven braids. She twirled it between her fingers. 

“Who said emissary business can’t be fun?”  

He leaned down, closer to her now than he should be. The tip of his nose just brushed hers. His lips mere millimeters away from her own. It was like they shared one breath. 

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

The music of the celebrations outside were muted against the windows. An easy quiet flowed through the room as he watched her dress. Slowly pulling the straps of her dress back over her shoulders. She flipped her hair away from her face and he let himself be mesmerized by the way the curls, black like shadow, tumbled down her back. He stretched his arms over his head and let them settle there. Content to watch her flit around his room trying to find her shoes. A small smile snaked its way across his face as he watched her grow more frustrated in her search. 

He leaned down and picked a silver slipper from the ground next to his bed. He let it dangle from one finger. 

“Looking for this?” 

She turned to him and let out a huff of irritation. She grabbed for her lost shoe but missed as he moved his hand a little further. Losing her balance she fell across his chest and he used his free arm to pin her. 

“So what was the business you came to discuss with me?” 

She glared at him, still reaching for her shoe. Realizing it was a losing battle she gave up and slumped against him, maybe even letting herself savor the feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of it. 

“My brother wishes to meet with Tamlin” 

Lie. 

Lucien raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for explanation. 

“Is he going to try to kill him again?” 

She scoffed and pushed away from him, “You really do know nothing Lucien Vanserra”

He winced at the name, the harshness with which she said it. 

“Don’t” 

A small warning. Don’t inflict his family name on him. The reminder of it a petty way to rip him from the sanctuary of the moment. A flicker of guilt lit behind her rib cage and she let the haughty draw of her shoulders fall. 

“Rhysand just wishes to issue a…warning.” 

Lie. She had come of her own volition. Wanting to warn Lucien and only Lucien about what her brother thought was to come. 

“A warning?” 

She looked at him. Tight lipped. A small crease in her brow. And he just couldn’t help himself. He reached up and smoothed that crease with his thumb. A feather light touch that seared its way into her skin. 

“The war may be over, but there are still enemies to be dealt with. People who we shouldn’t be so willing to put our trust in.” 

“You sound just like him,” Lucien sighed, “Always telling me not to put trust in anyone.” 

The crease returned. The comparison to Tamlin sending a spark of rage down her spine. The knowledge that Tamlin knew exactly what Lucien got up to every time she visited sent a churning to her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to calm. 

“So why trust me?” 

Her words came out softer than she’d intended. Like she was asking some unspoken question. He smiled, brushing an inky strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve always had a bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things.” 

The playful glimmer in his eye contrasted sharply with her serious expression. He sighed and handed her the shoe still dangling between his finger tips. 

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

Her family was scattered around the lower level of Rhysand’s townhouse. Mor and Amren sitting in the dining room pouring over some books and whispering to each other. Cassian, Azriel, and the high lord himself lounging in the living room. 

She tried her best to slide into the room unnoticed. 

Late. 

She had missed dinner and she had no good alibi. 

She prayed no questions would be flung her way as she slid onto the couch, tucking herself under Cassian’s arm. The shadowsinger found her eyes first. They flitted over her form, studying it for anything even slightly out of place. His eyes narrowed as he took her in and his shadows curled tighter around his forearms. 

Rhysand didn’t bother to look up from his stack of papers and sent a bored question her way, 

“Where have you been?” 

She shrugged and watched Azriel shift in his seat in what could have been discomfort. Cassian saw it too, the way his friend tried to hide his annoyance at her absence. He wore a wicked grin as he turned towards her, leaning into her, and mumbling, 

“New perfume?” 

She looked up at him confused for a second, “Excuse me?” 

“You smell faintly of…” Cassian rolled the word around on his tongue, “autumn”. 

Rhys looked up at this and studied his sister. Cassian’s insinuation rippled through the room. 

“Again?” Rhys kept that bored tone, something else behind it now though. 

“I was working,” She said, clipped and stern. Not wanting the conversation to continue. But Rhysand pushed forward, 

“I didn’t send you anywhere.” 

“And since when am I not allowed to do things of my own volition?” 

Azriel let out what could only be described as a snort. When she whipped her head towards him there was no humor in his eyes. The small laugh disapproving more than anything else. 

“What?” 

She was getting defensive now that the shadowsinger deigned to be involved in this discussion. He shook his head at her, 

“What exactly were you working on?” His question came out cold and quiet. His shadows creeped towards her as if they could pry the information from her. Cassian laughed. A real laugh. 

“She was working Lucien Vanserra.” 

She cast an annoyed glare at his crude statement.

“I’m sorry when did my personal affairs become the business of this court?” 

Amren’s voice floated from the dining room now, “More like the entertainment of this family.” 

She rolled her eyes and looked at the males in front of her. Challenging. 

“It’s unprofessional is it not?” Azriel pointed the question more towards Rhysand than to her. “Emotional entanglements.” 

“And who are you to say it’s an emotional entanglement? Maybe it’s just someone to get tangled in.” 

He winced at the sharpness of her words. The innuendo behind them. She tried not to note how it bothered him, how deeply it seemed to bother him. He shook it off fast though. 

“Because I know you.” 

Rhysand strained his neck, trying to make eye contact with Mor, trying to get her to come interrupt this conversation. She would not look at him, choosing this time to not get involved. 

His friend and his sister glared at each other still. Azriel using his face of stone cold disinterest as a weapon against her. Waiting for her to push at some unspoken boundary. She broke the silence first. Her tone withering. 

“Since when do you care who I fuck?” 

Rhysand grimaced. Not particularly caring to hear about this aspect of his sisters life. Not particularly happy with whom she chose to share this aspect of her life with. His disdain for Lucien was made evident to her since this whole affair started many years ago. As unsavory as this conversation was he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Azriel, waiting for his friend’s response, waiting to see how far the spymaster was willing to push his sister. 

“I don’t” 

Azriel’s answer was quiet and laced with some sort of simmering contempt. He leaned back in his chair, signalling and end to his involvement in this semi pointless discussion. His response washed over her exactly the way he had intended. A wave of cold. Triggering a pounding dissapointment in her. She hadn’t really realized how she had leaned closer to him while they sparred. The embarrassment of it hit her as she let herself fall back into Cassian, let his arm snake its way around her shoulders again. She didn’t look back at Azriel as she said, 

“Good. Cassian is next.” 

The warrior beside her pumped his fist in mock victory and exclaimed with teasing tone, “FINALLY”

Before putting his fist down at the first glower from his shadowy brother. Cass shot him a smirk before leaning down to her to very audibly whisper, 

“I’m free anytime little star. Just give me a shout.” 

She pushed her elbow into his ribcage and Cassian laughed through the cough the blow sent through him. Rhys studied Azriel’s features. Noting the jealousy etched across them.

“Enough.” 

The one word from Rhysand was enough to quiet his friends.

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*For The Land

Kinktober 2024: Exhibitionism

Eris x Reader

word count: ~2.5k

cw: public throne sex and fingering, Eris giving words of affirmation, everyone finishes

The autumn equinox was a time of balance and beauty, when the warm embrace of summer gave way to the crisp whisper of fall. It was the perfect setting for a tradition as ancient as the lands themselves.

The castle walls echoed with the anticipation of the gathered fae, their vibrant wings fluttering in excitement.

High Lord Eris stood tall and proud at the center of the grand hall. His mate, you, High Lady Y/N, was a vision of grace, your eyes sparkling with the promise of the season.

The air grew thick with the scent of harvest spices, a heady mix of applewood, cinnamon, and cloves, as the fae of all courts looked on. The thrones, ancient and powerful, had seen countless rulers come and go, but none quite like you and Eris.

Your hands trembled slightly as you took your place beside Eris. You knew the solstice tradition was sacred, a bond between the rulers and their land, but the thought of your union being displayed, that was something else.

Eris felt your apprehension, his hand warm and reassuring as it squeezed yours.

He leaned in, whispering words of love and encouragement that only you could hear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

Your eyes met, and in that moment, the world outside the throne room ceased to exist. Eris' gaze was filled with a fiery passion that set your heart ablaze.

He took your hand and gently guided you up the steps to the throne, the weight of your shared duty heavy upon them. The fae below watched in awe as they approached, their whispers of anticipation hushed by the gravity of the moment.

"You are a goddess," Eris murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence. "Your beauty is a harvest unto itself, ripe and ready for the plucking."

His words were like a warm embrace, wrapping around your insecurities and filling you with a newfound confidence. His eyes roamed over you, drinking in every inch of your body as if you were the most precious nectar.

"Tonight, we will show them what true power looks like."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but you straightened your back, your gaze never leaving Eris's.

"And what is that?" You asked, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest.

Eris smirked, his eyes darkening with a predatory glint.

"Let me show you."

With grace he lifted you onto the throne, your legs straddling his waist. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through your body.

You gasped as he claimed your mouth in a fiery kiss.

The crowd below them seemed to melt away as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, sending shivers down your spine.

His hand traveled to the neckline of your gown, his fingers deftly unlacing it to expose the soft mounds of your breasts. The cool air of the throne room washed over you, making your nipples tighten in response.

Your eyes never left Eris's as he lowered his head to claim one peak, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh.

A soft moan escaped you, and you felt his arousal pressing against you.

His hand slid down your waist to the folds of your skirt, lifting it to expose the apex of your thighs. His fingers danced along your skin, teasing and promising, until they reached the heat between your legs. He stroked you lightly, making your hips rock against his touch.

The fae watched, their eyes gleaming with a mix of awe and hunger.

Your breath hitched as Eris's thumb found your clit, circling it with a masterful pressure.

His mouth left your breast to kiss a trail up your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave a mark. You could feel the energy of the room, the very essence of the land, waiting for their blessing.

The High Lord's hand slid lower, slipping into the warm wetness of your core. His fingers curled inside you, and you bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Eris's eyes never left yours, his pupils dilating with desire as he felt you tighten around him. His free hand gripped the back of the throne, his knuckles white with restraint.

The crowd below them had grown silent, the only sound the soft sighs and gasps of their mating.

As Eris's fingers worked their magic, your hands found his shoulders, nails digging in slightly.

You could feel the beginnings of a powerful climax building within, your body responding to his skilled touch.

He knew just how to push you to the edge, then pull back, drawing out the pleasure until you were panting with need.

The fae below watched in silence, their own desires kindling as they observed the intimate display.

The room was a sea of fluttering wings and bated breaths. It was not merely a sexual act; it was a ritual, a sacred bond between the rulers and the land they served.

Eris's thumb continued its relentless rhythm, and you felt the coil of pleasure tighten within. You were aware of the eyes upon you, but Eris's touch was all that truly mattered.

He leaned into you, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered sweet, dirty nothings that made you tremble with need. Your body was his instrument, and he played it with the finesse of a maestro.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice a dark velvet.

"You're so beautiful, so wet for me. You're going to come for our people, aren't you?" His words were a caress.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, but you met his gaze, your own eyes dark with passion.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a soft whimper of surrender. "I'll come for you, for them."

Eris's smirk grew wider, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

"I want to hear you scream my name, my love," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise.

"Let them feel your pleasure, let it flood the room and fill the lands with fertility." His words were a heady mix of love and lust, a potent elixir that had your insides quivering.

Your hips bucked against his hand, the friction building. You could feel the eyes of the fae on you, their silent urging a palpable force.

Yet, it was Eris's gaze that held her captive, his golden eyes burning with a love so intense it threatened to consume her.

"Yes," she moaned, her voice a shuddering whisper. "I'm going to come for you, Eris."

His fingers worked faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, as if eager to coax you over the edge.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice a dark command.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the climax approaching.

"I'm going to come," you moaned, your voice a sweet symphony of need. "I'm going to come for you, for the lands."

"That's it," Eris growled, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through your very core.

"Let go, let them see what you do to me, how much you want me." His words were a gentle push, sending you spiraling over the precipice of pleasure.

Your eyes snapped open, and you cried out his name, the sound echoing off the walls of the throne room.

The fae below let out a collective gasp, their own desires stoked by the raw, unfiltered passion on display.

Your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsing against Eris's hand. The room swam before your eyes, a kaleidoscope of color and sensation.

The High Lord's eyes never left yours, even as you rode the waves of your climax. His hand slowed, his touch tender as you came down from your peak. His thumb traced lazy circles around your clit, drawing out the last remnants of your pleasure, leaving you a boneless mess in his arms.

The fae below erupted into a cacophony of applause and cheers, their energy surging with the power of your shared ecstasy.

With a wicked grin, Eris stood, his cock straining against his breeches.

He reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his clothing, revealing his length to the eager gazes of the crowd.

He was as much a god in their eyes as you were a goddess, and the sight of him, so proud and aroused, only served to heighten the tension in the room.

You slid off the throne, your legs wobbly from the intensity of your release. Allowing yourself a moment to compose, your eyes never leaving Eris's as you did so.

The High Lord offered his hand, helping you to stand before he turned you to face the crowd. His hands found your hips, guiding you onto him in a smooth, fluid motion that had the fae gasping.

You felt him fill you, stretching you, claiming you in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirts pooling around you. Eris's hands held you in place as you began to move, rocking against him with a newfound confidence. Each stroke sent a bolt of pleasure through you, and you could feel his own growing desire as he thrust up to meet you.

As the rhythm grew more frenzied, so did the flames that had started to flicker around the base of the throne. They grew taller, brighter, their warmth caressing your skin like a living, breathing entity. The fae below watched in amazement.

The heat from the flames seemed to intensify Eris's touch, his skin burning hotter with each stroke.

You could feel the power of the fire resonating with the power of your own climax. It was as if the very essence of the season was joining, fueling the union.

Your moans grew louder, mixing with Eris's grunts of pleasure.

The eyes of the fae were on you both, watching your every move with a hunger. The sight of their High Lord and Lady, locked in such an intimate and primal embrace, was a potent aphrodisiac.

They were not just observers; they were participants in this sacred rite, their lust a living tapestry that surrounded the throne.

You were acutely aware of their gazes, a thrilling mix of both fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins.

Yet, it was Eris's eyes that truly claimed you. You could feel his cock pulsing within you, each stroke a declaration of his dominance and love.

"Look at them," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"They want us. They need us." His word a dark seduction. "Show them how it's done, my love. Ride me like you own me."

Your eyes widened, but you complied, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that had Eris' eyes glazing over with desire.

"You like that, don't you?" You taunted, your voice a siren's song that sent shivers down his spine. "You like watching me take you, watching me control the fire that burns in your veins."

Eris groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you deeper.

"Yes," he hissed, his voice a feral snarl. "You own me, my queen. Your body is my sanctuary, your pleasure, my command." His words were a declaration of war, a battle cry that sent a shiver of excitement through you.

The gasps from the fae grew louder, their eyes glued to the erotic dance unfolding before them.

Each thrust, each moan, each caress was a silent promise of fertility and abundance for the lands. The flames grew higher, licking at their skin, painting the room in a warm, fiery glow.

You leaned back, your hands on Eris's broad shoulders, your breasts bouncing in rhythm.

"You're so wet for me," Eris murmured, "You're so perfect, so tight, so...mine."

You reveled in his praise.

Your hips moved in a silent symphony, each thrust a declaration of his worship.

"You're so beautiful, riding me like this," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her clit in time with their rhythm. "Every inch of you is perfection."

His eyes roamed over you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, your heaving breasts, and the way you moved on him with such passion.

"Your pussy is so good," he groaned, his voice raw with desire. "So warm, so welcoming. It's like coming home."

You moaned at his praise. You could feel yourself growing wetter, the slickness making your movements smoother, more urgent.

"Tell me more," you begged. "Make me feel like a goddess."

Eris's smile was wicked, his eyes alight with a dark pleasure.

"You're going to make me come, my love," he growled. "You're going to make me spill my seed, fill you with the promise of our land's prosperity."

Your eyes widened with each word, breath hitching as he continued to praise you, to claim you with his voice as surely as he did with his body.

"Your pussy is a treasure trove," he said, his hips bucking upward to meet your downward strokes. "A sweet, wet heaven that I'll never tire of claiming."

His hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples.

"These perfect peaks," he murmured, "they're like the tips of the mountains that watch over us, begging to be worshipped."

The fae below watched, their own desires reaching a fever pitch. As Eris's hands played your body like a finely tuned instrument, you could feel the climax building once more.

With a final, powerful thrust, Eris reached his peak, roaring out his release as he filled you completely. Your walls tightened around him, milking every drop as you, too, shattered into a million pieces. The flames around the throne grew even higher still.

The fae erupted into a frenzy of pleasure, their own orgasms a wave that crashed through the room.

The sound of their collective climaxes was deafening, a cacophony of moans and gasps.

Every creature felt the touch of their rulers' passion, a reminder of the deep bond between the High Lord and Lady and the very earth they protected.

As the flames around the throne subsided, Eris leaned in to kiss your forehead. The fae below watched as the High Lord cradled his mate, his touch tender as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

With the annual union complete, Eris helped you down from the throne. The fae below had fallen to their knees, the power of the ritual lingering in the air.

Together, you descended the steps, your bodies still slick with sweat and desire.

The room was silent. Each fae they passed offered a nod of respect, their eyes filled with a newfound reverence for their High Lady.

Comment if you want to be added to a Taglist

💙 Azriel ❤️‍🔥Eris ✨️General ⚠️Kinktober

@chunkypossum @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ysmtttty @nessiandefenseattorney @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing @azysmate @yennas-stuff @a-courtof-azriel @batboyrhyrhy @lilah-asteria @velarisnightsky444 @christeareads @thestarlightexpress @viktoriaashleyyx

[wholoveseggs]

Hi! I really love your work i was wondering if you could do a fic with Elijah and fem reader when he was still human, i really liked the one you did with viking Elijah, could you do it similar but when him and reader first meet and they start to date and they are both virgins and they have sex for the first time. Thank youuu!

Solstice

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Viking!Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} In a small Viking village, love blooms as Elijah steals your heart. But a winter storm prevents your future plans, forcing secrets to surface and your bond to grow stronger than ever.

♡♡ Thank you sweet anon(s) youu know I adore viking elijah!!! Here is a long fluffly, HAPPY story of sweet angel eli falling in love for the first time ♡♡

9k words - Warnings: smutttt, viking theme, a sprinkle of Niklaus, lots of flirting, both reader & Elijah are virgins, nervous and shy Elijah, sooo so sappy and sweet, lots of kisses and longing, amazing parents that we all wish we had (or do have? idku), classic patriarchy viking stuff, outdoor sex, pregnancy, mushrooms && an unfortunate hare ...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss

As soon as the leaves began to turn, the village became a flurry of activity. The summer months had been kind to the village, and the harvest was bountiful. But there was still much work to be done to prepare for the winter. You did what you could to help your family, as well as the rest of the village.

Today you set out to pick some herbs. It was a chore that you didn't mind, especially on such a beautiful day. Your mother had given you a basket, and you walked through the forest collecting anything that could be used in the healing remedies.

Kneeling down to pick a handful of ripe berries, you stilled at a sudden sound—leaves rustling, a faint snap of twigs. Your hand instinctively reached for your knife, but you forced yourself to remain calm, reminding yourself that large animals were rarely seen near the village, especially during daylight.

To your relief, a hare darted through the brush, nose twitching, large eyes staring back at you as if sizing you up. Smiling, you crouched and reached for a few berries in your basket.

"Hello there," you murmured, extending the food toward the creature, watching its tiny nose sniff the air.

Just as it leaned closer, you heard a soft rustle. An instant later, an arrow shot past, embedding itself in the hare’s side. The animal let out a soft, pitiful sound and tried to flee, but it only managed a few feet before collapsing, blood seeping into the forest floor.

“Oh no…” you whispered, standing abruptly, eyes scanning for the source of the arrow.

Through the trees, a young man emerged, his expression frustrated as he approached the hare, crouching beside it. His blond curls fell over his shoulders, and his blue eyes shone with both impatience and frustration. He muttered a curse under his breath and ended the creature’s suffering with quick precision.

"You must learn patience, Niklaus," another voice said, and a second figure stepped out of the shadows.

Your gaze shifted to this newcomer. His dark hair was tied back loosely, his face more serious, yet his brown eyes held a warmth that softened his features.

"Patience?" Niklaus scoffed, wiping his blade on the grass. "Brother, can you see it was a perfect shot … until the wind changed at the last second."

The dark-haired one chuckled. "Much like how that doe 'vanished into thin air,' or how the 'boar outran you.’" He turned, catching sight of you. For a moment, the easy humor faded from his expression, replaced by curiosity.

"My apologies, we didn't see you there." He gave you a polite bow of his head.

Niklaus stood, his eyes narrowed as he regarded you. "A woman, alone? There are wolves about, you know," he said with a grin.

You felt your cheeks warm at his comment, your eyes darting to the blood on his hands, and the dead hare in his grip.

You lifted your skirts and pulled a long blade from its sheath around your calf. "Not alone," you said, returning his grin.

Niklaus' eyes widened, and his brother let out a soft laugh.

"And now the wolves shall be the ones afraid," the dark-haired one said. "I am Elijah, and this is my brother Niklaus."

"Do you hail from one of the villages downstream?" You asked.

"We do, but our home is much further, on the coast," Elijah explained.

You nodded, then returned the blade to its sheath, and straightened. "What is your business so far from home?"

Elijah gave Klaus a pointed look, before turning back to you. "We are looking to trade, our home lacks some of the necessary supplies to prepare for winter."

"Well, this is a poor season for hunting," you said, pointing to the hare in Klaus' grip.

"Indeed," Elijah agreed, casting a glance at his brother. "Perhaps, if we are lucky, we will come across another."

You looked down at your basket, a thoughtful expression on your face. "My village is just over the hill," you pointed. "The elders may be willing to trade. If you have anything of value."

Elijah glanced at his brother. "Thank you, that would be most kind."

You gave him a small smile, and started down the path. Elijah fell into step beside you, and Niklaus trailed behind, scouting out other possible game.

"Have you lived in the village long?" He asked, glancing over at you.

"My whole life," you told him. "Though, my family came from the north when I was very young."

He nodded, taking in your features. "And are you married?"

"No," you said, a faint blush coming to your cheeks. "How about you?"

"Not yet, no," he told you, giving you a warm smile.

The path led up a steep slope, and after a few minutes, the three of you crested the hill. You could hear the sound of laughter, and children's voices. In the distance, the village spread out across the valley below, smoke curling into the sky from a dozen homes.

"You have a beautiful home," Elijah said, admiring the view.

"Thank you," you said, leading them down the path toward the village.

It wasn't long before someone spotted you, and several children came bounding up to you, asking a million questions.

"I'm sorry, but I must return to my home… but the longhouse is that way," you pointed to a larger building near the center of the village.

"We will find you again soon," Elijah told you, giving you a kind smile.

"I would like that," you admitted, feeling a spark of excitement.

Elijah bowed his head, and his brother waved, before the two of them continued on.

You watched them for a moment, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Though they were gone, a strange sense of lingering excitement remained, mixed with caution. Elijah had stirred something inside you, an interest that you weren't sure how to feel about.

With a shake of your head, you pushed those thoughts aside and continued on. Secretly hoping to see him again.

The longhouse was warm, and filled with the smell of food and the soft hum of conversation. Many people were gathered around, preparing dinner. Some greeted you, and a few even asked for some herbs for their meals.

You could see Niklaus and Elijah sitting with your father and other men. They had obviously introduced themselves, and your father seemed intrigued by them. The brothers sharing the unfortunate hare between them.

You placed the basket of herbs on the table before taking a seat near your mother. She gave you a small smile, her attention focused on her weaving. You listened to the conversations around you, trying not to be obvious as you watched the two newcomers.

"The dark haired one asked about you," your mother said quietly, her gaze never leaving her task. "He thinks you are quite pretty."

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced over at the table, seeing Niklaus whispering to your father. Your eyes met Elijah's, and his cheeks reddened, quickly looking away from you.

She glanced over at you, her face unreadable. "I think you should invite him for a walk."

You stared at her, wide-eyed. She had never been so willing to let you be alone with a man. "Really?"

"Yes, you are about to meet your eighteenth winter, it is time you start looking for a husband."

Your stomach flipped, and your palms grew sweaty.

"Besides, all the boys from our village are not fit for you."

"I don't know if I'm ready," you muttered, thinking about being alone with a man.

"If it were left to your father, you would never be ready," she shook her head. "You are a beautiful, smart girl. Any man would be lucky to have you as their wife."

Your gaze moved back to Elijah. His handsome features glowing in the firelight. “Do you really think so?"

"Go invite him for a walk," she repeated, nudging you.

"Right now?" You asked, nervously glancing around.

"Before the sun sets would be the wise choice," she replied, returning her attention to her weaving.

You glanced over at the table, Niklaus had disappeared, leaving Elijah alone. Your father was deep in conversation with the other men, and the women were busy gossiping.

"Go," your mother nodded toward Elijah. "Don't worry about your father."

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You were nervous, but eager. You didn't want to let this chance pass.

You stood and walked over to the table, standing awkwardly beside Elijah. He looked up at you, surprised. "Hello, again," he said, his voice deep and smooth.

You could see your father glancing over at you, and you quickly sat down next to Elijah, avoiding his gaze.

"Are you enjoying your time in the village?" You asked.

Elijah gave a nod, and offered a warm smile. "Very much so. Your people are quite welcoming."

"That's good, I'm glad," you said, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

He leaned in a bit closer, his brow furrowed. "Are you well?"

You met his gaze, and nodded. "I am, but, I was wondering if maybe you would like to take a walk with me? If you're not busy that is," you added.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting over to your father. "I fear that would not be wise."

"He'll get over it," you whispered, giving him a small smile.

He considered it for a moment, then returned the smile. "A short walk then."

You stood, and waited for him to join you. As the two of you started for the door, you caught your father's eye, his gaze stern. You ignored him and left the longhouse.

Outside, the air was crisp, the fading sun casting an orange glow across the landscape. A light breeze rustled the trees, and birds chirped.

"You have a lovely village," Elijah said, breaking the silence. "Your people are very kind."

"We've been fortunate," you told him, glancing over at him.

"What are the winters like here?"

"Cold," you laughed. "The snow falls early and stays for many months."

"Our winters are the same," he said, watching as some children ran past.

You fell into silence once more, and after a few moments, your hand brushed his. An unexpected wave of desire rushed through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, cheeks warming.

He let out an awkward little cough, his cheeks a light shade of pink. He looked so handsome in the soft evening light, the orange and purple hues making his dark eyes sparkle.

You led him to a trail that would take you to a field near a pond. It was a beautiful spot, and quiet, a place that you went to clear your head.

"Is there any particular reason you invited me for a walk?" He asked, looking over at you.

You blushed, looking down at your hands. "My mother seems to think I should find a husband," you explained.

He cleared his throat, and didn't say anything. But his hands were nervously twitching, and you could see his face redden further.

"I'm not suggesting anything," you quickly assured him.

"Of course," he replied, giving a stiff nod.

You stepped off the path, into a clearing, where a large weeping willow grew. You stopped near the tree, and turned to him.

He stepped a bit closer, and held out his hand. You placed your hand in his, and a wave of warmth rushed through you. His fingers closed around yours, and he gently tugged you closer.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you looked up into his dark eyes, noticing the way his breathing quickened. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

"This is not the sort of walk that your mother had in mind, I am sure." He whispered, his face mere inches from yours.

"Perhaps not," you breathed.

You leaned closer, and he pressed his forehead to yours. Your eyes closed, and you let out a soft breath. The scent of leather, and earth, and pine washed over you, and your fingers tightened around his.

He closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and he tasted sweet, like the honeyed mead the village was fond of. Neither of you knew what you were doing, your lips uncoordinated and clumsy. But his touch was gentle, his hands trembling slightly as they found your waist.

Your hands moved up his arms, coming to rest on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding against your palms. The kiss ended all too soon, and you stared up at him, slightly breathless.

His cheeks were flushed, and his pupils blown wide. His mouth opened and closed a few times, then a shy smile broke across his lips.

"We should be getting back," he whispered.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

He took your hand in his, and guided you back to the path. The walk was mostly silent, both of you still processing what had just happened. But the silence was not uncomfortable, the air between you had changed.

"May I visit you again?" He asked, his voice low and hesitant.

You smiled, and squeezed his hand. "Yes, I would like that."

"Would tomorrow afternoon suit you?"

You nodded, barely able to maintain eye contact, his handsome face giving you butterflies.

"Until tomorrow then," he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

You blushed, and turned to continue on. But his hand tightened around yours, and he pulled you back into his arms, kissing you once more. This kiss was not as gentle as the first. This time it was deep, and passionate, and his hands moved up your back, holding you close.

When the kiss ended, both of you were breathless, and your face was hot. He smiled, and you laughed softly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Don't tell your father I did that," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You giggled and pressed another kiss to his lips. "I won't."

With a reluctant sigh, he released you, and stepped back. You gave him a little wave, and headed back to your home, the warmth of his touch lingering.

It was late when you reached the house, your father was still out, and your mother was asleep. You climbed the ladder to the loft, and lay down, staring up at the ceiling, a silly grin on your face.

Your mother shifted, turning to face you, her eyes still closed. "What happened?" She whispered.

"Nothing, we just talked," you lied.

"Hmm," she murmured, turning onto her side, facing away from you. "He's quite handsome," she added, her voice barely audible.

"I think so," you agreed, closing your eyes.

It was a long time before you could sleep, your thoughts racing, remembering his scent, and the warmth of his hands. You were nervous, and excited. And for the first time in your life, you found yourself looking forward to the winter months.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Elijah came to visit as often as possible. Each day the two of you would steal a few moments together, sometimes walking, sometimes sitting in the forest and talking. But you always managed to find a moment to share a kiss, his touch leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Elijah and Niklaus were invited to stay for the winter, the two of them joining the daily hunting parties, helping with the preparations for the coming season. In exchange, two men from your village would return to their home and spend the winter there. It was a beneficial agreement for all involved, and the brothers were welcome in the village.

Today, you and Elijah were gathering mushrooms in the forest. Your basket was full, and you sat on a rock, watching him search. He was crouched near the base of a tree, and looked over his shoulder at you, a playful glint in his eye.

"I'm afraid I'm not as fast at finding these as you," he teased.

"I know these forests better than anyone," you replied, standing and walking over to him.

"Do you now?"

You nodded, smiling as you knelt down beside him. You could smell the faint hint of wood smoke and herbs on him, and the scent made your stomach flip.

"And what other talents do you have?" He asked, his tone light, teasing. "Can you also predict the weather? Or tell the future?"

You gave him a playful shove, and he made a dramatic show of toppling over. He pulled you down on top of him, and the two of you rolled across the forest floor. Leaves and sticks tangled in your hair, and dirt stained your clothes. You didn't care, it felt good to be so close to him.

The laughter faded, and the mood changed. Your body pressed against his, his arms holding you tight. His breathing was quick, his gaze intense, making heat coil in the pit of your belly.

"I can tell the future," you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

He hummed, closing his eyes. "Oh?"

"Mmm," you nodded, kissing him. "I see one with you."

You felt his manhood stir against your thigh, and a jolt of excitement ran through you. His hand moved lower, coming to rest on your rear, and you gasped when he squeezed it. You wanted more, and you rocked your hips against his, earning a soft groan, his grip on you tightening.

"We should stop," he said, his words at odds with his actions.

"Do we have to?" You asked, nipping his lip.

"Unfortunately, yes," he replied, though his hands remained where they were. "If not, your father will likely kill me."

You pulled back a little, and sighed. "You're probably right."

You rolled off him, and lay on the ground beside him, looking up at the clouds. Your chest rising and falling rapidly.

He turned his head, looking over at you. His lips were pink and swollen, his eyes dark and full of uncertainty. "Did I upset you?"

You met his gaze, and shook your head. "No, I'm just..." you paused, trying to think of how to phrase it. "I'm not used to feeling this way."

"Neither am I," he admitted, rolling onto his side, facing you.

"How did it come to this?" You asked, shaking your head. "You've only been here a short time, and already, I cannot imagine my life without you."

He propped himself up on his elbow, reaching over to pluck a leaf from your hair. "I have no answers," he said. "But I know I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

You sat up, and leaned in to kiss him again. "Will you speak with my father? About us?"

"I will," he nodded, getting to his feet and helping you up. "But perhaps we should wait until after the solstice. The villagers are preparing for the festival, I do not wish to cause a distraction."

"All right," you agreed.

He took your hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I'll see you at the festival?"

"Yes," you smiled. "Until then."

"Until then," he replied, stealing one more kiss before heading back toward the village.

You watched him leave, your heart pounding, and your body aching with a need you had never felt before. Imagining him as your husband, and all that would entail, had you blushing and giddy. Now you could only hope that your father would agree.

The days leading up to the solstice were busy, the entire village preparing for the festivities. A large bonfire was built, and tables were set up. The men and women prepared the food and drink, the children helped gather the firewood. Everyone was excited, and eager to celebrate the shortest day of the year, knowing that the days would only grow longer from there.

Elijah and Niklaus had brought back a rather large elk, which had been butchered, and spiced, and placed on a spit over the fire. The smell was delicious, and people were milling about, chatting and laughing. They were the talk of the village, the strangers who had come in and brought such a great bounty.

Your father had been quite impressed, and the two of them were welcomed among the men, even being allowed to take part in the ceremonies. It warmed your heart to see Elijah getting on so well with your family. You were certain that he could convince your father to let the two of you wed.

"There is my beautiful girl," your father said, walking over and placing an arm around your shoulders. "Your first winter as a woman. It seems like only yesterday, you were still playing with wooden dolls," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Not much has changed," you laughed, nodding toward a group of children, who were dancing and singing.

"True," he agreed, letting out a small sigh. "Soon enough, you will be a mother yourself. Time moves so quickly."

"You could have more," you teased, leaning into his embrace. "A sister would be nice."

He gave a little chuckle, and kissed the top of your head. "Perhaps. But I have the most wonderful daughter, how could any other compare?"

"Thank you, father," you smiled. "Do you really think I'm a woman now?"

"I do," he nodded, looking down at you. "In a few years, you'll be married, and raising a family of your own."

You glanced over at Elijah, and smiled.

"A few years?" You echoed, looking up at your father. "Why so long?"

He let out a sigh, and his brow furrowed. "Your mother and I wish to find the perfect match for you," he explained. "We want to ensure that the man is strong, and smart. A good hunter, and a capable leader. Not too young, not too old. And most importantly, a good man."

You looked back over at Elijah, watching as he spoke with a few men. You were certain that he was the one, but you knew it would be best to not mention him just yet.

"I understand," you replied, glancing up at your father. "I'll keep an eye out."

"Good," he said, giving your shoulders a squeeze. "Now, go dance with your friends, the gods are smiling down on us this night."

"I will," you told him, giving him a quick hug.

As the evening went on, the food was served, and the drinking continued. The bonfire was lit, and everyone began to dance.

Your friends grabbed your hand and pulled you into the circle. The flames danced in the wind, and the music echoed through the village square. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and everyone was happy and cheerful.

Elijah and Niklaus joined in, dancing and drinking. They were a bit clumsy, but they picked up the steps quickly. You felt a little shy, being so close to Elijah, knowing how your body had reacted the last time. But he seemed to be keeping his distance, not wanting to upset your father.

As the night wore on, the children began to drift off, and the adults grew more boisterous. People began pairing off, heading to the shadows, away from prying eyes. You caught Elijah's gaze, and your cheeks heated up, quickly looking away.

The music slowed, and you noticed your father and mother slip away, a knowing look in their eyes. You knew what they were up to, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"What is it?" Elijah asked, coming up behind you.

"They're going to sneak off and do...well, you know," you replied, cheeks burning. "Marriage things," you added, a little breathless.

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into a quick kiss.

You stared at him, shocked, then turned to glance around, but no one was paying any attention.

"You shouldn't have done that," you scolded him, glancing over your shoulder.

"Come, I have something to show you," he said, taking your hand and leading you toward the woods.

"Elijah," you whispered, glancing around nervously.

"It's fine," he assured you, squeezing your hand.

He led you away from the bonfire, toward the edge of the woods. There were still a few people wandering around, but none were paying the two of you any mind.

You followed him into the darkness, and after a few moments, the sounds of the village grew distant. He came to a stop near a large tree, and turned to face you.

"Wait here, close your eyes," he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose.

You did as he asked, closing your eyes, a nervous flutter in your stomach. He stepped away, and you could hear twigs snapping, and the smell of smoke reached your nostrils.

"Elijah?"

"Patience," he chuckled.

You heard the rustle of fabric, and then his warm breath tickled your cheek.

"Open your eyes," he whispered.

You opened your eyes, and let out a gasp. There was a blanket spread on the ground, surrounded by candles, the flames flickering and dancing.

"This is lovely," you breathed.

"I hoped you would like it," he said, leading you over to the blanket and helping you sit down.

"How did you do all this?" You asked, looking around at the candles.

"Niklaus," he explained, sitting beside you. "He thinks I should woo you properly."

"Oh?" You grinned. "Woo me, hmm?"

He blushed, his gaze moving down to the blanket.

You lifted his chin, and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. He responded eagerly, deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and shifted to straddle his lap. Giggling softly as his hands moved to your rear.

You could see the glow of the fire through the trees, and hear the faint sounds of the celebration, but you were alone, and free to be together.

He broke the kiss, his dark eyes shining in the candlelight. "I want to make my intentions known," he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. "I wish to marry you, if you will have me."

"Yes," you breathed, nodding eagerly.

"You're certain?" He asked, his expression serious. "It is not too soon?"

"No, I want this," you said, smiling. "I love you."

"And I, you," he whispered, his hand moving up to cup your cheek.

"I wish we could get married tonight," you said, resting your forehead against his.

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Have you... Uhm..." you stammered, your face heating up. "That is, have you ever...you know...before?"

His cheeks flushed, and his hands fell to his sides. "No, I haven't," he confessed. "Although I would very much like to."

"Oh," you breathed, his words sending a rush of desire through you.

You could feel the bulge in his trousers, and the knowledge that he was aroused only fueled your own excitement. You rolled your hips, and a groan rumbled in his chest.

"Y/N," he said, his voice strained.

"Yes?"

"We should stop," he whispered, his hands gripping your waist.

"Should we?" You asked, rocking your hips again, delighting in the way his breath caught.

"I think so," he nodded, his gaze meeting yours.

You could see the conflict in his eyes, his desire for you warring with his sense of honor.

"I think we should stay," you whispered, leaning closer, brushing your lips against his. "Unless you're afraid of me, and my womanly wiles."

"Afraid?" He scoffed. "Hardly."

"Good," you smiled, kissing him.

His hands tightened around your waist, and he moaned into the kiss, deepening it. You could feel the tension in his body, his restraint wavering.

You pulled back, breathless, and looked into his eyes. You saw the desire there, and the love, and knew you were ready. You pulled on the strings in the front of your dress, and loosened the garment, slipping it off your shoulders and revealing your bare chest.

You wanted to etch the look on his face into your memory forever. The mixture of awe, admiration, and desire. He was trying not to just stare at your chest, his hands twitching at his sides, as if fighting the urge to touch.

You took one of his hands, and brought it to your breast, his palm warm and soft against your skin. His breath hitched, and his pupils dilated, his gaze moving from his hand to your face.

"You are so soft," he whispered, his thumb brushing against the sensitive peak.

You let out a quiet moan, your lips parting, your head falling back. He took advantage, and pressed kisses along your jaw, and down the column of your neck, his other hand sliding up to knead your other breast.

His lips moved lower, and he brushed his mouth against the swell of one of your breasts, and the sensation sent a thrill through you. You had never been touched like this, and you could feel the dampness growing between your thighs.

He took your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and the feeling was indescribable. A rush of heat flooded your veins, the cold air suddenly forgotten. Your hands moved into his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark curls.

His other hand cupped the swell of your breast, his fingers plucking and teasing the peak, eliciting little gasps and moans from you. You had never felt such pleasure, the gods were surely smiling down upon the two of you.

"Elijah," you breathed, your hips moving against him, seeking friction.

He let go of your nipple with a wet pop, his gaze moving back to yours. His lips were pink, and swollen, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. He was panting, his chest rising and falling, his hands moving down to rest on your hips.

"My dear," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I would very much like to lay with you, if you are certain this is what you want."

You nodded, and kissed him, his hands moving up your back and pulling you close.

He lowered you onto the blanket, his body covering yours. His weight felt good, solid and comforting, and you let out a soft sigh. He kissed his way down your neck, pausing to press kisses to your shoulder and chest, pulling a giggle from you.

You reached down and tugged at his tunic, and he pulled back long enough to yank the garment over his head. Your hands moved over his torso, exploring the contours of his muscles, admiring his strength. He was beautiful, and you couldn't help but wonder what the rest of him would look like.

Your cheeks felt warm, your whole body thrumming with desire. Your gaze met his, and you saw a similar mix of lust and nervousness in his eyes.

"What now?" You asked, a little breathless.

He gave a soft chuckle, and leaned down to kiss you, his hands moving over your hips and thighs, pushing up the skirt of your dress. You gasped when his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your small clothes.

"I've heard from the other men... that they have to... prepare the woman, first," he explained, a slight tremble in his voice.

"Oh," you breathed, a new wave of desire washing over you.

His fingers tugged at the string holding your undergarment on, and he slowly slid the garment down your legs, his eyes fixed on the newly exposed flesh.

"Elijah," you whispered, shifting beneath him.

He tossed your undergarment aside, and ran his hands up the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart. You bit your lip, feeling a little self-conscious, but when he leaned down and kissed the patch of curls, all thoughts fled from your mind.

You were certain that the gods had made you for each other. You felt his breath on the most sensitive part of you, and when his tongue brushed against it, a bolt of pleasure shot through you, and you tugged on his hair, trying to pull him closer.

He continued licking and sucking, the sounds making your face flush. He pushed your thighs up and open, exposing more of you to him.

You looked down, watching the way he tentatively tasted you, he was eager and curious, and his attentions were sending a steady rush of heat and pressure to your core.

He found the spot that made you whimper, and began sucking on it, drawing out the pleasure, making you moan and shake. He seemed encouraged by the sound, his movements becoming bolder, more sure.

The heat grew, the pleasure building, and you found yourself grinding against his face, chasing the sensation.

He let out a groan, and the vibration only added to the delicious torment. You felt like you were going to explode, the tension reaching its peak, and when he gently bit down on the sensitive nub, you came undone.

You arched off the ground, stars exploding behind your eyes. Your legs clamped around his head, trapping him in place, but he didn't seem to mind, continuing to lick and suck until the pleasure became too much.

You pulled on his hair, and he lifted his head, his mouth glistening in the firelight. You stared at him, panting and sweaty, wondering how it could have been so much better than the whispers had suggested.

He crawled up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the flavor heady and intoxicating. He smiled against your lips, and you reached between the two of you, tugging at the laces on his trousers.

"May I?" You asked, the tips of your fingers dipping beneath the waistband.

He nodded, a soft moan escaping him as your hand closed around his shaft. It was warm, hard, and velvety smooth. You stroked him, enjoying the way his face contorted with pleasure, his hips rocking into your touch.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Your touch is much different than my own."

"I should hope so," you chuckled. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," he groaned.

"Good," you smiled, your hand moving up and down his length, exploring what made him groan and move his hips.

"Enough," he panted, pulling away. "I do not wish to spill myself."

You chuckled and laid back, pulling him down on top of you. He tried to line himself up with your entrance, but he kept missing, his hand shaking. You let out a soft giggle, and took his shaft in your hand, guiding him into position.

"Like this," you whispered.

You felt him press against your entrance, the pressure unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He leaned down and kissed you, his hips slowly thrusting forward, easing his length inside you.

The stretch burned a little, the feeling of fullness was overwhelming. You clung to him, his arms shaking, his breath hot against your skin. He was trying to be gentle, and you could tell it was taking all his self-control.

You ran a hand up his spine, feeling the tension in his body, the way his muscles quivered. You had never felt closer to anyone, the intimacy was almost too much, the emotion threatening to spill over.

"Are you all right?" He whispered, his gaze meeting yours. "Does it feel good?"

You nodded, "how about you?"

He chuckled, "better than anything I have ever felt."

You grinned, and lifted your hips, letting him know it was all right to move. He did, pulling out almost all the way, then easing back in. You could see the concentration on his face, his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed.

"More," you pleaded, wanting to feel him fully.

He complied, his pace increasing, the feeling of him moving inside you driving away the ache and leaving only pleasure.

"I'm afraid I will not last much longer," he breathed, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"It's all right," you assured him, reaching down in-between the two of you, feeling where you were connected.

It was wet, and warm; the coarse curls of his pelvis tickled your palm. You touched his shaft, stroking him as he thrust into you, and his hips bucked, a low moan escaping him.

"Y/N," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hips snapping forward.

His body stiffened, and his breath caught, his shaft pulsing inside you, and you could feel the warm flood of his release. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, both of you panting and trembling.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, his cheeks flushed, a hint of a smile on his lips. You leaned up and kissed him, pouring all your love and happiness into it.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

"Are you all right?" He whispered.

"More than all right," you told him, running a hand through his hair. 

"As am I," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "We should get cleaned up and return to the celebration before we are missed."

"Or we could stay here," you suggested, smiling mischievously.

"Tempting," he chuckled. "But not wise."

"Fine," you sighed.

He pulled out of you, and you felt a twinge of loss, the cold air reminding you how wet and swollen you still were. He got up and fetched his tunic, cleaning you both up as best he could.

"There," he said, helping you up. "That should do until we can get a proper bath."

"I would very much like to bathe with you," you told him, grinning.

"As would I," he replied, handing you your dress.

You fixed your dress as he snuffed out the candles and collected them in the blanket, sneaking glances at each other, the blush still lingering on your cheeks. Once you were presentable, you took his hand, and followed him back to the celebration.

The sounds of the village grew louder, the voices and music carrying through the trees. He paused, and pulled you into a kiss, his hands resting on your waist. You melted into him, a familiar warmth spreading through you. He pulled away, looking down at you, his expression serious.

"I've known since the first time I saw you," he confessed, his cheeks turning pink. "That this is where I'm meant to be. That you are the one."

"Elijah," you whispered, tears burning in the back of your eyes. "I love you."

"And I love you," he smiled, kissing your forehead. "I will speak with your father tomorrow. There are wedding plans to be made."

"You will?" You squealed, throwing your arms around his neck.

"Of course," he chuckled, hugging you tightly.

He kissed you again, his lips moving slowly, savoring the moment. He reluctantly pulled away, taking your hand.

"Come, we must get back," he whispered, tugging you toward the village.

You followed him, the grin never leaving your face.

Your father would surely be surprised, but Elijah was a good man, a strong warrior, and would be a good husband. Your mother would be delighted, she had always liked Elijah. And, hopefully, that would convince your father to agree.

You couldn't wait to tell everyone the good news. You would finally have the wedding you always dreamed of.

The gods had been smiling down on the both of you, and tonight would be a night you would remember forever.

Snow had fallen in the early hours of the morning after the festival, and it continued for nearly a week. The wind howled, and the village was blanketed in white. It was a gloomy, dark and damp, the wind blowing fiercely, causing the shutters to bang against the wall.

A storm like this would keep everyone inside for at least a month. Fortunately your village was prepared, with plenty of stores and provisions, and the people were content to remain indoors, huddled near the fire.

You wished you were curled up next to Elijah throughout all this, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill in the air. Instead, you were trapped inside with your parents for nearly a month now, trying to keep the gloom at bay.

Your father had only left home once since the solstice, checking in on the villagers and making sure everyone was safe. He returned with good news, the livestock had survived the storm, and the storehouses were well stocked.

You helped your mother prepare food, and kept the hearth burning. The house was warm and cozy, but you couldn't stop the worry from creeping in. You hadn't been feeling well for weeks, food seemed to turn your stomach, and you'd grown irritable, snapping at your parents for no reason.

Your mother had taken notice, and was watching you closely, her eyes narrowing.

"Come sit," she called from her chair, the furs draped over her legs.

"I'm busy," you sighed, adding a few logs to the fire.

"Your father is seeing to the animals," she pointed out, a knowing look in her eye. "Sit," she said firmly, patting the empty seat next to her.

You let out a huff, and plopped down, crossing your arms.

"I can tell something is troubling you," she murmured, reaching out and stroking your hair.

"I just wish to see my friends," you said softly, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. "It's so dull and boring here."

"Ah, yes," she nodded. "And is there one particular friend you would like to see?"

"I suppose," you said, shrugging, feigning disinterest.

"I think there's a young man who is just as eager to see you," she smiled, reaching out and taking your hand. "Do you wish to speak of it?"

"No," you mumbled, not meeting her eye.

She was quiet for a moment, and then cleared her throat. "Are you in love?"

"Mother," you gasped, glancing toward the door, a nervous flutter in your belly.

"I was once a young girl, I know what it feels like," she smiled, squeezing your hand. "You should have seen me, I was hopeless, sighing and daydreaming. Your father had me under a spell," she grinned, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes," she giggled, her cheeks turning pink. "We... don't tell him I told you this...," she whispered, leaning in. "We would... sneak off and feast on the fruits… far before planting the tree," she giggled.

"Mother!" You exclaimed, your face flaming.

"I was very much in love," she said, patting your hand. "As are you, it seems."

"I...," you hesitated, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Tell me, my child," she murmured, giving you a warm smile. "Do you wish to marry him?"

"I... Yes," you nodded, returning her smile. "I love him."

"And does he love you?"

"Yes, he does," you smiled.

Her hand moved to your stomach, and she rubbed slow circles. Her eyes met yours, a knowing look in them.

"Does he know?"

"Know what?" You asked, confused.

"My dear, you've been unwell," she explained. "Has it not occurred to you why?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Your body has changed, I noticed it the other morning when you were dressing. Your breasts are fuller, your waist is a little thicker. And," she stopped, and reached down, taking your hand and guiding it to your stomach. "Your belly is softer."

"I...uhm," you shook your head, panic welling up inside you.

"I'm not saying this to scare you," she soothed. "This is a good thing. The gods have blessed you."

"Oh," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

"When was the last time you bled?" She asked, tilting her head.

"I...don't know," you admitted. "A moon ago? Before the snow fell."

"Is that around the time you and Elijah were...feasting on the fruits?" She asked, lowering her voice.

You nodded, and felt the tears spill over.

"Don't be afraid," she cooed, gathering you into her arms."I'm not angry, I promise,"

"Father will be," you mumbled, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Perhaps not," she replied, her voice gentle. "If Elijah is a good man, he will take care of you. You and the baby. And your father will come around."

"You really think so?"

"I do," she assured you. "I will speak with him."

"What if the baby isn't his?" You asked, chewing on your lip.

"You've been with no other men, have you?" She said, her tone growing stern, her eyes hard.

"No," you shook your head.

She paused for a moment then laughed, and squeezed your shoulders. "Then the child is Elijah's."

"But what if father doesn't believe it? What if-,"

"Hush," she said firmly. "It will be alright. Do not worry."

"Are you certain?"

"I am," she smiled, stroking your cheek.

"You're not angry with me?" You asked, feeling a little guilty.

"No, I'm not," she assured you. "But I would prefer the wedding take place sooner rather than later."

Your conversation was interrupted by the sounds of your father returning and more voices joining his.

"Come," your mother whispered, standing and reaching for your hand. "I'll make us some tea."

You nodded, and followed her to the table.

"Good afternoon, my loves," your father greeted you, stomping the snow off his boots.

Niklaus and Elijah followed behind, they had brought food and supplies, the two of them covered in a thick layer of snow.

"It's a good thing these two came along," your father commented, shaking his head. "I might have gotten lost out there."

"It is quite a blizzard," Niklaus chuckled, pulling his cloak off.

"These fine gentlemen are going to stay with us until the storm passes," your father said, glancing at your mother. "The snow has caved in the roof of their hut."

"Well," your mother clapped her hands. "That settles it. Let me get a hot meal on the table."

You watched Elijah as he pulled off his cloak, the fur falling away, revealing his strong arms and shoulders. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and quickly averted your eyes.

"Sweetie, will you show them where the linens are kept? We'll need to make up the beds."

"Of course," you murmured, standing and crossing the room.

"Here," Elijah said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a bundle. "We brought extra furs," he smiled.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling his gaze on you.

Niklaus helped your father with the firewood and Elijah followed you to the backroom, helping you pull the linens out.

As soon as you were out of sight from the others, he pulled you into his arms, his lips finding yours.

"I've missed you," he breathed, his lips brushing over your skin.

You pressed your finger to his lips, shushing him. He smiled, his teeth nibbling on the digit. You blushed, and pulled your hand away, taking his hand and placing it on your stomach. His brow furrowed, and he looked down.

"I have a surprise," you whispered, biting your lip.

"A surprise?" He grinned, his hand sliding around to your back, pressing you closer.

"Our baby," you breathed, looking up at him, your heart thudding in your chest.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"Are you certain?"

You nodded, and felt the tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You weren't sure if it was relief, or happiness, or fear, but it all came crashing down.

He wiped the tears from your cheeks, a wide smile on his face.

"Don't cry," he soothed, kissing your forehead. "I will take care of you."

"But my father," you sniffled.

He smiled and took your hand, leading you back into the main room. Your father was sitting at the table, while Niklaus stoked the fire and your mother was cooking, their voices filling the room.

She looked at you, and smiled softly. Your father glanced over, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of your hand in Elijah's.

"What's this?" He asked, his voice stern.

"Sir," Elijah started, swallowing nervously. "I know that we have not known each other long, but I have come to care deeply for your daughter. I would like to ask your permission to take her as my wife."

The silence that followed was deafening. Niklaus froze, and slowly stood, watching the scene unfold. The expression on your father's face was completely unreadable, his eyes focused on the two of you.

"Do you know what you're asking me, boy?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "I love her, and I will care for her."

Your father leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. His gaze went to Niklaus, who was still standing frozen by the hearth, a deer in the torchlight.

"Is your brother a good man?"

"He is, sir," Niklaus answered, his voice strained.

"Can he provide for her, can he protect her? Can he protect his children?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

Your father turned back to Elijah, his eyes narrowing.

"What do you intend to do when the snows have cleared, and the ground thaws?"

"I have found a piece of land not far from here," he explained. "With a river nearby, and plenty of forest. It's close enough to the village that it will not be difficult to travel."

"I see," your father murmured, glancing over at you.

You stared back at him, and tried not to let the hope show on your face.

"My child," he said, his voice soft. "Is this what you want?"

"It is," you nodded.

"I see," he said again, sighing softly. "The gods have spoken. It seems there will be a wedding."

"Sir?" Elijah asked, his voice wavering.

"I'm giving you my blessing," your father smiled.

You let out a happy sob, and threw your arms around Elijah's neck. He lifted you off the floor, his lips finding yours in a joyful kiss. You were dimly aware of the cheering coming from your parents and Niklaus, and you clung to him, the tears spilling down your cheeks.

You could have kissed him forever, but your mother cleared her throat, and you reluctantly pulled away.

 "Come, dinner is ready.” she said, smiling.

Elijah set you down, and gave your hand a squeeze. He led you to the table, and pulled out a chair for you. Niklaus and your parents joined you, and soon the sounds of eating and talking filled the room.

Your mother poured the tea, and you glanced up at Elijah, watching as he ate, his face flushed, his eyes shining. He met your gaze and smiled, a warmth spreading through you.

"Father... I have something else to tell you," you murmured, taking a sip of tea.

"Yes?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You will have a grandchild soon," you whispered, biting your lip.

This time, the silence that followed wasn't deafening, but absolutely terrifying. The expression on your fathers face went from happy to complete shock. Niklaus choked, and began coughing violently, but you suspected he wasn't choking, but simply trying to cover up his laughter. 

Your father's gaze went from you, then to Elijah, who had the good sense to look abashed, before finally settling on your mother, who simply shrugged, and continued to eat.

"So," he finally sighed, rubbing his face. "The wedding should be sooner rather than later."

"Yes, father," you nodded, your voice shaking.

He glanced at you, and reached over, taking your hand.

"You're sure?"

"I am." 

You watched his face, and were relieved to see his eyes fill with joy.

"Well," he grinned. "It seems I'm getting an early wedding gift."

"Really?" You squeaked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

"Yes," he laughed. "My little girl is having a baby. What better reason is there to celebrate?”

"Father," you cried, standing and hugging him.

He embraced you, and you could feel the tension melting away.

"The gods are truly smiling down on us," he chuckled, squeezing you tightly.

"They are," you agreed, giving him a watery smile.

"To new beginnings," your mother declared, raising her glass.

"To new beginnings," everyone echoed, and the conversation flowed, wedding plans being made.

As you listened to the conversations going on around you, and felt the warmth of the fire on your skin, and the heat of Elijah's hand resting on your knee, you couldn't help but feel that everything was going to be okay. You couldn't have asked for a better man to spend your life with.

The winter storm would pass, the snow would melt, and the sun would shine down on the village once more.

Spring was just around the corner.

[pichirobi]

fire, air, water, earth.

prince xie lian is one of the most promising up-and-coming avatars the world has yet to see. that is, until disaster strikes his home earth kingdom of xianle. when his people die out at the hands of a plague spirit, bai wuxiang, the nations blame the avatar. with his reputation destroyed, xie lian joins the air nomads for 20 years and travels the world as a scrap-collector. although he has lost the respect of the people he is destined to protect, the spirit world is thrown into chaos without his guidance. xie lian works thanklessly to maintain global balance all on his own. but unbeknownst to him, there's one person, upon the throne of the fire nation, who still believes in the avatar.

welcome to my tgcf x atla au!

click here to follow this tag for updates. read more below for my story notes.

STORY

xie lian is born to the king and queen of an earth kingdom city-state, xianle, and is quickly discovered to be the avatar. a wildly talented one, at that. he learns firebending second, and waterbending third. still young and pampered, xie lian struggles with the humility associated with airbending principles.

at just the age of 17 he begins to travel the world to master the four elements and [katara narrator voice] to restore peace and balance in the world. he acquires a servant (firebender mu qing) and a bodyguard (earthbender & childhood best friend feng xin). it's during this time that he tours the fire nation, meeting with political figures and impoverished citizens alike, gaining a positive reputation for his determination and skills. to celebrate the summer solstice, xie lian is the face of a festival in which he proves his elegance, combative strength, and firebending prowess. during the ceremony, he controversially interrupts it to save the life of a 10-year-old urchin boy.

the lines between the spirit and mortal worlds bleed together during solstices. it's xie lian's festival which attracts a particularly violent spirit to emerge into the mortal world: bai wuxiang. the white-clothed calamity.

xie lian's life is filled with promise until he turns 22. he catches word of a disaster taking place in his home kingdom. he puts a pause on his tour of the nations to return to xianle. there, he finds that a strange and highly contagious disease has begun plaguing his people. its symptoms are unnatural; the work of an angry spirit. xie lian works himself to the bone trying to save his common people. he fails.

when xianle falls to plague, to chaos, to fear, its people blame the avatar. he is dubbed the avatar of misfortune. a failure. xie lian's reputation crumbles to dust and he is helpless to restore his people's faith in him. when the rest of the world learns of how xianle came to ruin, the avatar becomes not a figure of peace to be revered, but a bad omen.

having lost his two companions, his parents, his kingdom, and the global adoration he's come to rely on for his self-worth, xie lian runs away. he disowns his past identity and seeks to start a new life. he finds himself in the northern air temples, where the air nomads pay him no mind, although xie lian is a bit of an oddball. (xie lian might look rougher and jaded but they certainly recognize the avatar. they pretend to not know him—the nomads keep to themselves and as long as xie lian doesn't cause trouble, he is welcome.) he eventually befriends a monk named shi qingxuan.

xie lian seeks enlightenment. he incorporates himself into the monks' way of life, releasing all ties to material possessions and worldly indulgences. he abstains from sex, alcohol, anger, and, hardest of all, grief. he goes on to live 20 years as a scrap collector, practicing what he was taught by his teacher and guide, monk wu yong. xie lian knows it's time to leave the temples when he finally masters airbending.

humbled, xie lian rekindles his fighting spirit. the common people loathe the avatar, but he forgives them. he will save them.

as xie lian wanders the nations, he learns that during his darkest years, literature, art, and scholarly works of the avatar have been destroyed. most people don't even remember what he looks like and much less have the means to learn anything about him. (hua cheng carving xl's face into the side of a mountain: HOLD MY BEER)

meanwhile, there is a fire nation urchin boy who has grown into someone powerful enough to be feared. through his unmatched wit and charisma, he has worked his way up the capital's political hierarchy. a city governor who calls himself hua cheng, is the first aristocrat to challenge the firelord to an agni kai. he is also the first to win. he delegitimizes the royal bloodline and single-handedly reshapes a generation's idea of a competent ruler. bonus points for the previous firelord being xie lian's indecent cousin, qi rong.

now 35 years old, the new firelord, terrifying yet respected by all, leads his people to prosperity and vanquishes every enemy. peculiarly, he seems somewhat uninterested in his position of power. instead, he enjoys turning his attention towards erecting a shrine, a palace, in honor of avatar xie lian.

HUALIAN'S BACKSTORY

the avatar preceding xie lian, jun wu, oversaw great conflicts between the four nations. it is during one of these wars that a seemingly insignificant teenager dies. his soul drifts aimlessly in the spirit world, vulnerable, alone. he encounters the trickster spirit koh who steals his face. time is hard to account for in this realm, and the once-a-teenager forgets his past life, his own identity, simply choosing to refer to himself as wu ming: nameless. many years later, the avatar cycle begins anew with the birth of xie lian.

at 7 years old, prince xie lian and his best friend feng xin are outdoors playing with swords. feng xin takes a break, as he is called inside by the king of xianle, leaving xie lian outside and unsupervised. (feng xin will shortly be told that xie lian is not only his friend, but now his responsibility.) meanwhile, xie lian is left without a sparring partner. until a ghostly silver butterfly flits in front of him. it playfully weaves around the flourishes of the blade. xie lian chases it, away from the palace grounds, across the fields and into the brush, where he falls head-first through a burrow. when he stands up, his sword has disappeared, but not the butterfly. it pulls his attention upward, where he takes in his surroundings: the spirit world.

xie lian continues to play and greet spirits, who are all pleased to meet the new avatar, eventually finding a sad, dissipating ghost fire. the ghost introduces itself as wu ming. xie lian works very hard to cheer it up, promising they'll be friends in this lifetime and the next. wu ming brightens and confesses that koh has stolen its face. xie lian fails to tolerate this news: if he's to be the avatar, he must protect the innocent and slay monsters. with wu ming's warnings, he marches to koh's den to demand his friend's face back.

xie lian succeeds. wu ming doesn't remember much these days, but he's sure that no one has ever showed him such incredible kindness. when wu ming expresses his desire to disappear, xie lian gives him a mantra: "live for me."

xie lian has to leave, to return to a very worried feng xin (who is scared he's already failed his new bodyguard job on day one), but wu ming is invigorated with life like never before. his soul persists, stubbornly, for the avatar. he is reborn back into the mortal world as a fire nation boy. although, the encounter with koh would leave a mark on his body: the sclera of his right eye would be an unsettling blood red. the people of his village would know him as hong hong-er.

elsewhere in the spirit world, the ghost of avatar jun wu senses young xie lian's presence. he also senses the persistence of the ghost fire—a soul reborn. could he, too, return to the mortal world? jun wu entertains a simple but horrifying thought: by swapping places with xie lian, could he achieve immortality as the world's last avatar? thus, jun wu hatches a plan. he strikes a deal with bai wuxiang, the white-clothed calamity, a malevolent plague spirit. bai wuxiang would possess the body of jun wu to eliminate the new avatar. to kill xie lian, and to be reborn.

the plan doesn't go—well, according to plan. the people of xianle are wiped out before he can get his hands on xie lian, and the destruction of a people leaves behind a universal distrust of the avatar. jun wu realizes he would be unable to seize power in such an environment. his new strategy must involve controlling young xie lian, manipulating him into a puppet. it takes a while to pin him down, but jun wu eventually finds him settled in the northern air temple, at his most emotionally vulnerable. jun wu will impersonate a monk teacher, changing his name to wu yong. he will bide his time and play his cards until the world is ready for his return.

EXTRAS

hualian are middle-aged men in this au because it makes sense timeline-wise, but also because sexy silver fox xie lian is what i see every time i close my eyes.

narratively, i'm torn between hua cheng loving the avatar, or hua cheng loving xie lian. thinking about this timeless lovestory, "you, not the state of you," i can see it both ways. hua cheng might love the avatar, xie lian and all of his reincarnations regardless of their body. or, he might love xie lian, regardless of the "avatar" title. ("avatar" may also be this world's equivalent to hua cheng respectfully calling xie lian "dianxia".)

firelord hua cheng presents himself at what he believes is his ugliest, most intimidating form: exposing his burned right eye. as san lang, however, he is at first ashamed to reveal such a vulnerable part of him in front of his love; he covers it with an eyepatch. (the people of the fire nation are like: "a platypus?" [san lang takes off his eyepatch] "PERRY THE PLATYPUS?!?!")

hua cheng teaches xie lian how to bend lightning. they easily trade bolts back and forth to each other in a cute and intimate way. feng xin and mu qing are horrified when they first see this in action.

hualian's first kiss happens when they're battling a sea monster underwater and xie lian loses his concentration enough to accidentally pop hua cheng's air bubble. a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation will do the trick until they can float back up to the surface.

ruoye = xl's spiritual serpent guide (kind of like roku's dragon)

e'ming = hc's super clingy fire ferret

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: double chapter day?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The summer sun brings little warmth to the castle of Debray. Those left behind in the shadow of their lord’s march to war, bide their time with baited breaths and unspoken worries. The duchess sinks into her cups, a nectar to her already sharp tongue, as her daughter buries herself in her wardrobe. 

Lady Jazlene hands you dress after dress, demanding a stitch here or there, only to snatch it back and have you cut the cloth of another to alter yet a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth. Strips of fabric and loose buttons litter the drawing room table as you and Merinda put your needles to work. 

“Motherrrr,” Jazlene swirls around, swaying her hips back and forth, “it has been a fortnight already.” 

“Your father will return soon,” Lady Rezlyn slurs before she empties her goblet. She has no husband to chide her away from excess. “Never fear, dearest.” 

“That is not—mother, what am I to do? I have no wedding dress!” 

“You have no mind,” Rezlyn snickers, “you will have only rags by the time you decide.” 

“Hm,” Jazlene approaches the table with her hands on her hips, “mother, that gown with the gold lace. The one you wore last solstice--” 

“My gold lace,” Rezlyn sneers, “no!” 

“But mother. I only want the lace. You can have it re-trimmed. It would look much nicer with pearls,” Jazlene whines, “do you not understand? I am to marry a king. I cannot look as some simple countryside daughter.” 

Rezlyn clucks and shakes her head, “if it hushes your endless moaning, have the lace.” 

Jazlene gives a triumphant grin and turns to you. She grabs your arm and the needle catches in the fabric, slipping from your grasp, “go fetch mother’s dress. It is rosy satin.” 

“And wine! Bring more wine,” Rezlyn interjects. 

Jazlene rolls her eyes and flicks you away with her fingers. You hastily retreat as Merinda grimaces at her labour. Your fingers hurt from the endless hemming and seaming and you’ve noticed she’s jabbed herself more than once as the noble daughter changes course back and forth. 

You flit from the chamber and sweep down to the kitchens. The descent into the cellar is lit by only the candle in your hand, the flame wobbling dangerously before you. You find a bottle of the duchess’ preferred and climb back into the light. 

You snuff the tallow and quickly press on you. You climb the stairs again but falter as the wail of a horn breaks the afternoon din. You spin and turn to the window. Several other servants cluster beneath the arched opening as they try to see the horizon. The blast comes again, three in quick succession, followed by a long blare. 

The noise of chain and mail comes from the courtyard below. The few men left behind to man the castle walls are quick to action. You can see the flap of banners and nothing more between the other curious bodies. 

“Who is it? Enemy soldiers?” Waldon wonders. 

“I cannot see, my eyes are dim,” Margite shields her vision from the sun as leans over the sill. Their chatter swirls at the approach. 

“It is them! The Lord’s banner!” Stellan exclaims, “I can make out the sun and the sword on the banner. And the Winter King’s white crown.” 

“They return! They return!” Another cries out, “are they victorious?” 

You shuffle away. You forget about the golden lace and return to the drawing room. You enter and look down at the bottle in your hands. You blink, trying to recall what you were about to do. You set the wine on the table near the duchess as Jazlene seizes your other arm. 

“Where is the dress?” She snarls, “ugh, are you so useless--” 

“They’ve returned,” you utter cluelessy. 

“They...” Jazlene begins. 

“The king and your father, my lady,” you explain, “we saw them through the window. I thought to say so before I went to your mother’s wardrobe--” 

“Quiet!” She shoves you away, “I need a different dress. The crimson slit with ivory. Yes, yes, now!” 

She pushes you again and you stumble to the door. 

“And slippers,” she calls after you, “Merinda! Get over here.” 

You scurry back out and to Lady Jazlene’s chamber. You enter and sort through the mess of her clothing strewn and heaped about. You find the red and ivory dress and a pair of slippers of a similar hue. You are certain to bring a selection of jewels and pins to assuage any further remonstrance. 

In the drawing room, Jazlene has Merinda fixing her hairpins. You approach with your armful and lay it on the table. Outside the walls, you can hear the chaos unfurling. You can hardly keep the noises straight as cogs grind, ropes groan, and the noblewoman carry on their tittering. 

You help Jazlene step into the dress, Merinda holding the other side. As you work at the sleeves and skirts, she fidgets around. 

“The king? The king is with them for sure?” She breaths. 

You nod, “yes, my lady. His banner--” 

“Mother! They have won. They must have.” 

“Do not be too presumptuous,” the other lady rises and nears the table, snatching up a string of pearls, “come. Put these around my neck.” 

There’s banging and knocking and footfalls and voices yelling. The walls cannot keep out the rising fervour. Horse hooves and rusty hinges. They are close, in the castle or more. You pull tight the laces of the dress as Merinda clasps the pearls around the duchess’ thick neck. 

There is someone before the door. A shadow darkens below it for just an instant before it opens. No permission is asked as Lord Dustan clatters in. His eyes is swollen near shut. 

“Daughter, wife, you must come down to the--” 

Heavy, steady steps follow him. You continue to weave the laces through the eyes, going as fast as you can. 

“Father, I am not dressed. I am not ready to receive--” Jazlene protests. 

Dustan looks behind him and backs away from the doorframe. King Geralt fills it with his large figure, a dark cut along his hairline though he hardly seems bothered by it. Otherwise, he is untouched, unblemished. You knot the laces as you peek over Jazlene’s shoulder and his gold eyes shimmer in the low lantern light. 

“Your highness,” Jazlene gasps and drops to a curtsy. You stand, dumbfounded for an instant before you bend your neck and your knee to his status. “We were not warned of your coming. I pray you have tasted victory,” she raises her head slowly, “and we may wed in celebration to ring your reign in the Summer Kingdom.” 

He grumbles as his eyes search the space. Dull yet vibrant at the same time. He tilts his head as his jaw squares, “a king’s wife mustn’t fret so much about silks and wine,” he growls as he breaks the threshold. He marches to the rigid high back chair and lowers himself, “victory is mine but that does not mark the end of my efforts. I have no kingdom until all that which has broken is repaired.” 

“Certainly, your highness, and I will be by your side to help you amend what has been injured. As your loyal wife and queen,” she wilts as she wobbles just a little, “I am only so happy to see you alive and returned.” She rises as straight as she can and sweeps over to him, pushing out her chest, “but not unharmed. Your highness, you have been wounded.” 

She goes to touch the gash along his forehead and he motions her away with a flat palm. 

“It is not dire,” he insists, “Lord Dustan, where is your bishop?” 

“I sent away for him. He will come,” the duke avows. 

“The bishop?” Jazlene looks to her mother. 

“For the vows, precious,” Dustan assures. 

“The vows? Now? Today? But father--” 

“I haven’t time to wait around on paltry feasts and drunken hordes,” the king insists. 

“But-- but--” Jazlene stammers, “I am a queen, I should have a wedding.” 

“You are still but a duke’s daughter,” the king snaps, “a wedding you will have. Let us swear the words as was arranged. Then we must away.” 

“Away? Away?” Jazlene echoes again. 

“Take this parrot away from me,” King Geralt barks as he slams his fist into the arm of chair, “I tire of her squawking. When the bishop arrives, fetch me and I shall keep the oath I made.” 

The edge in his voice cannot be missed on that single word. He is a man who would not break a promise given, not the like the one cowering by the door. You glance up slowly as you notice Jazlene quaking. You can tell by her fists that she is not so much afraid anymore as she is angered. 

“Daughter,” Rezlyn girds and touches her daughter’s arm, “a wife should learn first to obey. Let us go paint your lips and await the bishop.” 

“This cannot be...” Jazlene hisses. 

“Quiet,” Lord Dustan snaps, “you want to marry, you marry as you are told. Out.” 

Lady Rezlyn keeps the duke from grabbing his daughter, instead steering her through the door herself. Merinda follows first and you trail after. The king grumbles, “Debray, leave a maid. She may fetch me that wine.” 

“My lord,” Lord Dustan points you back tersely, “the wine.” 

“Leave me,” King Geralt demands of his fair-weather lord. 

Dustan retreats and shuts the door heavily. You turn and cross to the table where you left the sealed bottle. You put your hand around the neck and lift it. You face the king and cross to him with your head low. 

“Your highness, would you like a goblet?” You ask. 

“I am not interested in imbibing,” he reaches beneath his mail and pulls free a grey handkerchief, “pour it on this.” 

You crack the wax seal of the bottle and grab the bulbous head of the cork. You wiggle it but cannot dislodge it. You struggle with it and he wraps his large hand around the pregnant bottom. 

“Little maid,” he slips it from your grasp and puts the kerchief in your hand. 

The uncorks it with only his thumb, flicking free the stopper, and he reaches out to you. You press the cloth to rim and he tilts it slightly, wetting the fabric. He pulls it away and reaches to place it on the floor. You look at him curiously. He leans forward and runs his index below the gash in his head. You get his meaning and daintily press the damp cloth to his head. 

“The alcohol cleanses,” he says as he leans heavier into your touch. 

“It looks rather painful, your highness.” 

You wince at your own careless words. You don’t know why you said anything at all. He sits in silence, breathing slowly. At last, he sits back and looks at you. You drop your hand and your chin. 

“Might I get you anything else, your highness?” You offer as you fold the cloth into a tight wad. 

“Tell me, how do you fare?” 

“Your highness?” You peek up at him through your lashes. 

“Are you well? Have you rested? Are you fed?” He prompts. 

You raise your head, surprised by his questions. 

“I am well, your highness. I have a roof above me.” 

His cheek ticks, “same as you were. Same as I remember.” 

He puts his head back and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply. You waver before him, unsure what to do next.  

“I don’t mind the cold. My land is frigid most days but I felt a true shiver out there on that road. Even Roach could not ease it.” 

You watch him, awaiting an order, not so well attuned to conversation. More often than not, a response is not warranted, just action. He gives you little direction though he is a man who easily commands. 

“My horse. Stinky steed,” he muses as he keeps his eyes closed, “valiant nonetheless.” He lets out another heavy exhale, “will you mind the door? Wake me when the bishop arrives should I doze?” 

“As you wish, your highness,” you go to the door, taking your usual stance beside it. 

He is still. The amber light of the lantern limns his large figure as he reclines in the stiff chair. He does not move but a man who has ridden to war has slept on worse. You cannot tell if he truly slumbers but you know it is not appropriate to stare. 

You remain in silence. It isn’t so bad to the duchess and her daughter. Almost serene if not for the tension of the man’s presence. A king. A wintry figure with his icy hair and colder demeanour. You do not envy Jazlene, he will be a rigid husband. She will not bowl him over as her mother does the duke. 

You listen beyond the walls, trying to track the activity beyond. There are softer voices you can’t make out, creaks which could be only the wind, and footfalls which are most certainly only servants about their tasks. The tedium stretches on as the lantern light wobbles. 

You stare at the wall opposite. The summer hue breezes in with a hint of pollen between the open curtains. Still the chamber remains dim in stone and mortar. 

There is the crank of the gates and you shift. You turn your head to hear better the entry of a new party. A man’s tenor from below assures you of the arrival. You wait until the footfalls reach the stairs. You do not relish waking the king should he have managed to sleep. 

You look to the king in the chair but find him alert. His eyes are centered on you as he sits straight, golden irises blazing. You gulp and shy away. 

“I believe the bishop has come, your highness.” 

He doesn’t speak or move. He just watches you. His gaze bores until it burns. You fear you might have strayed somehow. 

Finally, he slides to the edge of the chair and stands. He does not seem eager as he makes slow progress towards the door. As he crosses the room, he stops, just before the door, right beside you. 

“A war for a wife,” he mutters, “a barter, I suppose.” He reaches for the metal loop on the door, “come, little maid, we might need a pillow should the lady faint again.”