#everyones been injured mate

[sethdeanromanwwe]

these cody promos acting like he died and came back he only tore a muscle😂

[nyanjagorn]

i have too many clans on clangen but. omg. shrubclan. no clue what these idiots are doing but they keep losing their tails & legs. i’m 4 years (48 moons) in, at nearly 50 members, half of which are apps or kits. i have four cats who lost a leg, and six that lost a tail. two of which lost both.

to be fair shrubclan has gone maybe 5 moons with enough healers they’re always deprived of them but still. 10 amputations... in 4 years... that’s more than one per 6 moons.......

[astonmartinii]

kiss it better | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x first responder!reader when oscar crashes into the barrier at monza, he thinks he sees his guardian angel, in reality he's just got a concussion and that's a first responder, but it's the thought that counts.

f1

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f1: woah. huge shunt for oscar piastri in turn three. the australian was pulled out of the car by first responders and is getting treatment. red flag for now.

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user1: omg like my breath was completely gone, i hope oscar is okay

user2: holy shit that's the worst crash i've ever seen i'm so glad they aren't replaying it

user3: i tuned in late and i knew as soon as they didn't replay it it had to be bad

user4: thank the lord for the first responders, they were so fast i hope oscar is good

user5: i'm gonna need netflix to take the backseat on this one i can't take the dramatic editing this is already stressful enough

user6: the grosjean crash was bad enough, i can't deal with it with oscar

user7: are there any updates yet?

user8: not yet.

user9: i'm sat in the grandstand right where this was and it was literally so scary, the first responders literally had to jump on the car

user10: so so lucky that they were stationed so close to where he crashed

oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri: first of all i'd like to thank everyone for their support and well wishes, i really appreciate it. it's actually thanks to y/n and the rest of the first responders that i'm back on my feet as fast as i am. big thank you to y/n for sacrificing her ability to shower comfortably to help me out of the car and avoid the flames, i am eternally grateful and mama piastri would like you over for dinner to thank you.

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user9: i'm so so happy he's okay, that crash was so scary

landonorris: glad to hear you're okay mate !

oscarpiastri: you can't get rid of me that easily norris

landonorris: woah, no joking about dying when you've only been discharged for 24 hours

oscarpiastri: sorry, skipped over that one in my contract

danielricciardo: make sure you always read that mclaren contract carefully

user11: thank you y/n for your service

user12: for real she put her leg on the line for oscar she needs a raise

yourusername: it was my pleasure to do my job and help you out oscar. and i'll always take up an offer for a mum's dinner

oscarpiastri: she'll be very happy to hear that

yourusername: text me the details and i'll be there

user13: it's so crazy to me how f1 drivers just get up and walk out of crashes like that

user14: no for real how is the medic more injured than him 😭

logansargent: you are so lucky there were no cameras when you were on painkillers cause you were talking some shit

oscarpiastri: please don't remind me

logansargent: just because there weren't cameras in the room doesn't mean i didn't record you, i look forward to my birthday present this year

oscarpiastri: you wouldn't

logansargent: you wanna bet?

user15: so like how bad do we think what oscar said was?

user16: and how much do we need to pay logan to release it?

mclaren

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mclaren: after her heroics in the first half of the season, y/n finally took oscar up and is a guest of mclaren this weekend. as a medic, y/n is one of the most important aspects of a race weekend, and it's an honour to host her!

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user17: did oscar write this caption? that man was BLUSHING in the fan questions video

user18: awwww mama piastri is also there this weekend and in a load of the pictures in the paddock they stuck together

oscarpiastri: so happy to see you again y/n !!

yourusername: my pleasure, oscar. racing is a lot more fun from the garage

oscarpiastri: i'll try my best not to crash this time, i know my favourite medic isn't on duty

yourusername: oh wow what a title, i'll wear it with pride

user19: they're such dorks i love them so much

landonorris: can someone get me some popcorn, i'm enjoying watching oscar squirm and blush all weekend

oscarpiastri: i am NOT !!

landonorris: don't worry i'm sure y/n finds it cute

oscarpiastri: can you please STOP !!

yourusername: not to prove lando right but it is very cute

user20: lando is taking his big brother role a bit too far

alexalbon: you were right @logansargent this is fun to watch

logansargent: oh just you wait until you find out the stuff he was saying in hospital

oscarpiastri: please stop telling people

alexalbon: from what i heard she was right there @yourusername what did he say logan is being a good friend (for now)

yourusername: considering i literally fried my leg getting him out i don't remember most of that day

alexalbon: UGH you people are no help

yourusername: ???

oscarpiastri: ???

yourusername

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yourusername: no pulling this one out of a burning wreck this weekend 👍

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user21: omg oscar's smile ??? i am faint

landonorris: do i mean nothing to you?

yourusername: i am literally oscar's guest let me rep him in peace

landonorris: booooooo if you're going to wear his number might as well ask him out while you're at it

yourusername: mind your business, i know what i'm doing

user22: Y/N?????????

oscarpiastri: i see you know my angles already, can you come every weekend?

yourusername: i'd love to but i have a lil thing called a job :(

oscarpiastri: boring, can't you be my full time personal photographer?

landonorris: and his girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: do you mind?

landonorris: what? i'm just trying to help

oscarpiastri: you are MEDDLING

yourusername: you guys done?

oscarpiastri: yes

landonorris: NO

user23: lando is a no 1 y/n x oscar shipper he's so real

user24: y/n is so much stronger than me i'd hand in my notice right this second

yourusername: believe me i would if i could

landonorris: to both options?

oscarpiastri: LANDO STOP

yourusername

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yourusername: happy to be your guardian angel baby x

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user29: new f1 parents just entered the chat

landonorris: i'm taking responsibility for this happening, you’re welcome

yourusername: stop right there buddy, this was all ME

oscarpiastri: nuh uh it was ME

yourusername: i asked YOU out?

oscarpiastri: technically yes, but i asked you to dinner first

yourusername: actually, if i remember correctly that was your mum

oscarpiastri: FINE you asked me out and i'm very glad you did and you ARE my guardian angel and you ARE way out of my league

landonorris: you said it i didn't

oscarpiastri: LANDO LET ME FLIRT IN PEACE YOU NUISANCE

landonorris: woah, you've changed bro

yourusername: are we finished boys?

landonorris: yes, and for real i am very happy for you guys

user30: lando saying he made this happen is the most lando thing ever

logansargent: can you tell him to stop ignoring me now?

yourusername: soz under strict rules not to fraternize with a traitor

logansargent: I'M SORRY BUT I CAN'T HANDLE SPICE

user31: at least logan is self-aware

oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri: sometimes all you need to do is flip an f1 car into a barrier and burst into flames to meet the love of your life (and give her third degree burns)

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user32: OSCAR WITH A BACKWARDS CAP TEACHING HER TENNIS SOMEONE CALL 911 I AM NOT OKAY

landonorris: okay we get it now you guys are cute

yourusername: for someone who was 'the reason we got together' you've changed your tune

landonorris: yes i am glad you have each other but that doesn't change the fact that i am LONELY and don't need to see gross couple stuff

oscarpiastri: you poor baby

landonorris: NO SYMPATHY?

oscarpiastri: i'm gonna cite all of your tomfoolery in the other comment sections

landonorris: okay fair

user33: okay but can we promise to never have a crash like that again?

yourusername: agreed

aussiegrit: happy for you kid

oscarpiastri: thank you mark :)

yourusername: so this is mark... hi?

aussiegrit: don't worry i've heard nothing but wonderful things about you, i look forward to meeting you at the next race

user34: y/n already has all of the approval oh wow

yourusername: i love you dummy (never do that again or i'll never talk to you again)

oscarpiastri: you got it, wins only from now on 🫡

yourusername: ur the champion in my heart

oscarpiastri: 🧡 🧡 🧡

logansargaent

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 304,788 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri

logansargeant: public shaming is good sometimes. though now i third wheel with only a fish by my side

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user35: i am SCREAMING

yourusername: oh florida boy, your time will come (don't put that fish pic on your tinder, i know you want to)

logansargeant: girls love fish?

yourusername: trust me they don't

logansargeant: is this just because oscar is bad at fishing?

yourusername: DELETE IT FROM YOUR TINDER PROFILE NOW OR THIRD WHEEL FOREVER

user36: what is going on here?

alexalbon: god logan this is tragic, how did you expose him and end up with a fish as your date

logansargeant: but is the size of the fish not impressive?

alexalbon: no, take y/n's advice

oscarpiastri: fine, you're forgiven. only because y/n found it cute, if she found it weird it would be you found at the bottom of a lake

logansargeant: ???????????? there was a chilli oscar

oscarpiastri: stop hiding behind your american passport, i'd eat that chilli for you

logansargeant: but it all worked out?

oscarpiastri: thankfully for you

yourusername: is it bad that this is kinda sexy?

logansargeant: he threatened to murder me?

yourusername: he's so protective 🫶

oscarpiastri: hehehehe thanks babe x

logansargeant: i give up.

note: WOAH two in one night? i am on a roll. anyhow, do enjoy, i love oscar so much so glad he extended !! xx

[azsazz]

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Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,217

Notes: Love this tbh!!!

_________________________________________

You feel him before you see him. 

You can feel him all the time; even when he’s courts away there’s that connection humming blissfully in your chest. It’s comforting, to know that your mate is alive and well, that there’s a surety you’re aware of him and how he’s feeling. When he’s content in a warm bath with a glass of fae wine smoothing the creases between his brows. When he’s squaring his shoulders and surging with pride for the sparring with his brothers he has won again. When he sends a warmth so suggestive down the bond late at night when he’s sure there’s no one around. The very one you feel deep in your soul, that makes your core melt like his fire-filled hands are working your center. The one that leaves no questions whether he loves you or not.

Of course, there are times when you can’t feel him. When he’s blocked the bond from ever reaching you when his father brings his wrath down on him like he’s young and defenseless again. He always hides that from you. When the distance from you becomes too great and there is no choice for him but to block the bond because he knows that there is nothing that can be done in the current state of Pythian. No way for the both of you to be together, no way for him to seize you from the control of your older brother. If you were lesser than the High Lord’s younger sister, he’d sneak across the border lines on a whisper of autumn winds and find his way into your bed. 

It’s been ages since you’ve seen your mate, since you looked into those warm russet eyes, ran your fingers through his auburn hair, counted the freckles dotting the pale skin of his cheeks. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Eris is escorted into Rhysand’s office and your eyes meet. 

A sense of relief floods the bond as his eyes move over you in an intentional sweep that to everyone else in the room looks like he’s wondering why you’re here, but you know your mate is assessing you for injuries even though you’re nowhere near injured. Not even a scratch or a bruise on your perfect skin. 

No one notices the slight falter in his steps. All Eris wants to do is rush over to you and sweep you in his arms and press you into his chest, feel your heartbeat against his own. He wants to taste that smile you’re trying all too hard to hide from him, move his mouth across the color dusting your cheeks to feel his fire dancing underneath your skin. He wants to strip you bare, devour every inch of you. He wants to hear you scream his name, whisper that you love him, cry for him to take you away, admit that you never want to be apart—

But he’s not even allowed to sit next to you. 

Across the large table is as close as he allows himself to get. It’s not close enough that he can accidentally kick his foot against yours and he doesn’t like that you’ve been meticulously placed on the opposite side so he can’t even walk past you and brush his fingers against your hand or the back of your neck. 

His bond keens in his chest and he tries his best to stifle it, ripping his gaze away when he’s drawn to you like this. 

Eris is flanked by Cassian and Azriel, and even though he feels as if he’s on the best terms he’s ever been with the Night Court, this feels like a set up. A trap.

You allow a caress of reassurance down the bond to your mate. Your brother doesn’t know, no one in this room, in this court, in this continent knows of your connection to the heir of Autumn. Eris’ throat works as he swallows, and you turn your attention away from him as he sends a feeling of understanding back to you.

“Eris.” Rhysand gestures to the autumn born royal to sit. He’s lounging in his own chair at the circular table, an arrogance to him that irks you. It’s all a front, of course, one Rhysand has carefully crafted to perfection from centuries as High Lord. You don’t like that it’s directed at your mate, and you’re feeling more protective than ever, flickering a glance over to the males sitting on either side of your mate, as if they’re caging him in.

Not unusual for an untrusted male in your court. You’ve seen your brother pull this same maneuver more times than you can count, but there’s a charge to the air that feels different. Your spine lengthens and you flare a warning down the bond, praying your mate doesn’t react but readies himself. 

He follows your heed with unfaltering trust. Eris’ fingers flex where they’re resting on the arms of his chair, and you watch him unhinge his jaw only slightly, so that he doesn’t flex it. The scalding look on his face stays directed at your brother.

Your lips part and the muscles of your legs tense, ready to jump out of your chair in the next moment, when you catch Rhysand’s smirk, the one that spells trouble. His violet eyes are dark with the promise of violence and his shadows are quick to strike, tendrils of nightmares winding their way around Eris’ wrists, trapping him to the very chair he was offered.

Eris shifts his hands in a nonchalant motion, testing out the strength of the sentient darkness Rhysand uses to hold him hostage. They don’t give an inch and he wonders for a fleeting moment if he can burn them away. If your worry wasn’t heavy in his chest, the beat of your heart spiking double, he would try it. But with you here, he’s not willing to try anything that could potentially put you in danger.

Plus, a part of him wants to hear what Rhysand has to say. The other part of him wants to get you the fuck out of here.

The High Lord of the Night Court plants his hands on the table. High Lord, because there is no ounce of your brother in his eyes and actions right now.

The chair scraping against the floor as Rhysand stands is the only sound in the room. Cassian nor Azriel moves from their seats, but they pin your mate with the menacing kind of looks that mirror Rhysands, ready to follow his every demand, no questions asked. 

“Eris,” Rhysand’s voice is not its usual purr as he leans forward. A strand of hair falling across his forehead is the only sign of the crack in his facade, the utter rage filling the room with an unbearable tautness.

The words are sticky in your throat. You can’t move, can’t seem to take your eyes off of your brother as your heart splinters in your chest like it’s his own shadows tearing you to strips. You’re only able to manage a quiet, “Don’t,” that’s filled with too much desperation.

Rhysand ignores your words. He hisses at Eris, dark and low. “How long have you and my sister been keeping this little mating bond of yours a secret?”

[mochinomnoms]

Do you think humans in twisted wonderland have periods? What if they don't...

What if AFAB!Yuu is the only one in twisted wonderland to have periods and it freaks everyone out

Evolutionarily speaking it would make sense for the humans in twisted wonderland to reabsorb the unused egg for extra fuel for magic

[cw] - discussion of periods/afab!Yuu but still written as gn [wc} - 1,792 Added the rest under readmore as it got a bit long. I think there's a fic somewhere on here with this idea, but I can't remember the blog or name, I'll edit and link it later if I find it. I can see the point of the egg being reabsorbed, though personally I think TWST humans are biologically the same as Earth humans, minus the ones with magic maybe having a bit stronger/heighten senses and strengths. After all, there are plenty of humans who aren't magic, I think it's mentioned some point in their book 2 or book 5 that a majority of the population is either magicless or aren't privy to the privilege of formal magical education.

Even if a majority of the human population is magic, there's still a good chunk of them that don't and if that's the case then they at least would have periods.

However, that's explicitly the human population, and in reality it makes absolutely no sense for beastmen or merfolk to have periods. Especially when they have things like heat/ruts or mating cycles. Fae I think would actually make the most sense for the headcanon you're mentioning! They are completely and utterly magic, made from the magic of the earth, animals, and flora given sentience and forms. They are utterly magic, through, and through, so it would make sense for those with uteri to recycle the egg back into them for magical fuel.

And say we're going with the assumption that there are no other afab students in the school, or there are, but they're only beastmen, merfolk, and/or fae, then an afab!Yuu comes as quite a shock.

The beastmen are the first to notice something off with them, as they have the most acute sense of smell. This is followed by a very close second with the merfolk (particularly the predacious ones) and an even closer third by the fae. All the boys from those dorms, minus Lilia who's lived long enough to know what a period is, clock in on their friend who reeks of blood and flesh (because you're also shedding pieces of your uterine lining).

Lord help you, as you're in a crowded area, the cafeteria, with not only them but the rest of their classmates that also smell your blood, because their immediate thought is that you're fucking dying.

Sebek is surprisingly the first to launch himself at you, shouting at the top of his lungs, “WHERE IS YOUR INJURY HUMAN?! YOU ARE SEVERELY INJURED YOU SHOULD BE IN THE INFIRMARY—” Before he is yanked off by a wide-eyed Jack, who's looking more and more like the dead as he leans down to sniff at you.

The blood from his face drains (ha) as he turns to look at Leona and Ruggie, as well as a small group of other beastmen—friend's you've made during the tournament—and nods. This causes them to all look horrified and gaze at you like a wounded puppy. Minus Leona, who just looks amused.

“It's coming from them.”

Still confused, you stare at the Heartslabyul group—who'd been eating breakfast with you—in bewilderment. They also look at you in confusion, except for Riddle, the latter of which pinches the bridge of his noses and takes a deep sigh.

“I think you're all being a bit dramatic, they're just on their—”

“DRAMATIC? I DON'T THINK YOU'RE BEING DRAMATIC ENOUGH!”

Floyd grabs you from behind, spinning you and shoving his face so close to yours that you noses are smushed together.

“Shrimpy… you gotta tell me who did it, cause I could tell from aaaaall the way in the hallway that ya hurt. Com'on! Tell Floydie, I promise I won't be mad.”

Jade placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as he leans down to chastise Floyd.

“Not now Floyd, the poor thing is hurt, we should take them to the infirmary. Then we can hunt down the dreadful soul that hurt our friend and have them trade their spot.”

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, yelping and latching your arms around Floyd's neck as he cradles you in his arms. Effectively yanking you from Jack's grip, who immediately growls.

“Floyd! Be careful!”

“Ehhh? Yeah that sounds like a great idea! Let's go now, I'm itching for a good fight, ayhehehe!”

Leona and Riddle shared a look, the former sighed to try and explain.

“Look you idiots, they're not injured, they're—”

“What are you waiting for?” Ruggie interrupted him, annoyed by Leona's unconcerned attitude, instead gesturing to Floyd. “Let's go before they bleed out even more!”

The small group clamored out of the cafeteria, a few more concerned students following after them as they started to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Leaving Leona and the others in the dust. Deuce piped up.

“… Uh, do they not know—”

“No, most beastmen aren't familiar with periods.”

“I'm guessing merfolk and fae don't either, based on the twins and Sebek.” Riddle sighed, feeling sorry for you.

Leona's ears perked as he heard the shrill shriek of a certain octopus in the distance. Riddle and the others also seemed to hear it as they winced.

“Probably not…”

“…”

“… should we?”

“Yeah, we probably should, before my boys wreck the school. Let's get Crewel.”

It took a whole hour of you reassuring the small crowd that had formed around your bed in the infirmary before anyone calmed down. Floyd and Jade were being constantly pulled back into the infirmary by the ear by the nurse, who kept telling the two to stop trying to go beat up the imaginary person that, quote unquote, “hurt you”.

“What do you mean Shrimpy isn't hurt? I can smell the blood from all the way down the hall!”

“Yes, it's quite a potent scent, and distinct to our dear Prefect.” Jade held his hand to his chest as he sniffled. “We've smelled it before when they've gotten hurt, but this is a whole different level.”

“Yeah! Almost all of Savanaclaw could smell it” Ruggie nodded in agreement as Jack followed.

“They must be really hurt if we all could smell it from that far away! You need to help them nurse!”

Their voice's grew again in volume, Sebek in particular, as he vowed to also hunt down the “ruffian who would dare harm a fellow student on the campus Master Malleus attended!”

The nurse, growing more and more annoyed trying to corral the group (she wondered how ethical it would be to use a silencing spell and another to stick them to the ceiling), sighed in relief as the echo of Crewel's whip commanded immediate silence.

“Oh, thank the Sundrop, Professor Crewel, please control them. I am up to here with their foolishness—”

“Foolish? The Prefect might be dying!” Azul cried out, surprisingly attached to your side. She'd tried to yank him off of you earlier, but was met with a shocking amount of strength as his grip on the metal bed frame caused an Azul-sized hand indent to form. His strength, easy to forget in his slender frame. Now, he was trying his best to coax the name of the student responsible with promises of free drinks and discounted food.

“No I'm not!” You cried out in exasperation. “I've been trying to tell you, but y'all won't listen!”

As you tried to get up from the bed, trapped in a blanket cocoon made by Azul, the boys started up again. Half urging you to stay in bed and rest, while the other half argued with the nurse, and now Crewel, about healing you up.

A near ear-shattering rumble of thunder caused another silence to fall over everyone. This time, though, the group shrunk into themselves as Malleus, standing proud and tall, entered the room. Sebek perked up, rushing over to meet him.

“Young Master! I've ensured that the human was taken to the infirmary, but so far they've refused any healing—”

“Thank you, Sebek. I will speak to them myself.”

Malleus, his school jacket flourishing behind him (one of the students murmured that he felt like a background character in a romance movie), flew to your side. Where you had been squirming your upper body out of the blanket cocoon, smacking at Azul's hands as he kept attempting to swaddle you back in.

Now freed waist up, you turned to face Malleus, who had elegantly kneeled down by your bedside (you could hear Sebek muffled a shriek) and held your hand like a delicate piece of china.

“Child of Man, my friend, what happened? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” Malleus cooed at you, green eyes peering into yours, full of concern.

So it was a surprise to everyone in the room when you groaned, which morphed into a soft scream.

“Uh… Child of Man?”

“I'm fiiiiiine!” You sighed, slumping back into the bed. “I'm just on my period, you guys.”

The room remained quiet, a bit too quiet as you lifted your head back up to look at the room of confused looking men. Crewel had a hip cocked as he looked unimpressed over the crowd. The nurse was rubbing her temples. You heard Azul clear his throat, drawing his attention as he asked,

"What's a period?"

Finally, the crowd had settled, all of them huddled around your bed as you tried your best to explain what a menstral cycle was.

"So you like, bleed every month? Randomly?"

"Amount 28 days, so once a month yeah. And now it's not random, it's part of the reproductive cycle. It's my body preps for a new egg—"

"But, I though humans didn't lay eggs?" Floyd asked, leaning against Azul's right shoulder.

"We don't, it's different the egg turns into a baby itself so there's no egg to lay—"

Ruggie spoke up, "We get that, but I don't get why the egg makes you bleed? It can't do that can it?"

"No, no, no. It's not the egg itself, it's my body. In order for the egg to get fertilize it needs a good environment to grow, so the uterus grows a fresh lining once a month for the egg to latch on to, so—"

You sighed as once of the other fae students interrupted.

"Fresh lining? Like, the skin? Of the uterus?"

You nodded, trying to keep your patience as you attempted to explain to your friends that, no, you were in fact not bleeding to death.

"Yes, that's the blood, the skin is shedding to make a fresh one for the next egg."

You don't think it's working, as that last sentence caused a wave of mortifcation amongst the crowd.

"That... sounds like it hurts." Malleus, still holding your hand, softly asked. "You're not hurting though, correct?"

Pursing your lips, you looked up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. Wow had that cobweb always been in that corner?

"Yuu."

Malleus's voice, calling out your name for once, was full of questioning.

"Yeah Horns?"

"it doesn't hurt, correct?"

You started whistling a little tune, studying the dirt under your nails.

"Dear Prefect," Jade this time. "Answer the question?"

The group leaned in closer as you grumbled under your breath.

"Speak up Shrimpy."

".........not always."

"Come on, stop being shy, you act like a puppy most of the time" Ruggie was getting annoyed.

".....cramps..not move...not always."

"It's okay Yuu, you can say it." Azul cooed.

"...Sometimes the cramps makes it hurt too much to move, but not always."

You braced yourself as the crowd once again riled up.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT HURTS TOO MUCH TO MOVE?"

The nurse off to the side still, leaned over to tell Crewel, "I told you we needed an interspecies health class."

hehe this was fun, comments appreciated. I may be inclined to write more since writing different between species like this is fun

[our-sin]

Stiles is a wildlife biologist and one day stumbles upon a wolf pack during a hike through the national forest he works for. They weren’t gray wolves so at first he figures another species has finally made its was back to california but after an hour or so of studying them from a far he realizes they aren’t typical wolves and appear to follow many of the theorized versions of dire wolves.

Thinking he might have discovered a new species and a possible descendant of dire wolves he stays for the rest of the day and studies them further. He only leaves when the sun starts to set and keeps coming back to study them. He grows rather attached to the pack, especially when a particularly curious wolf comes up and introduces itself and eventually drags him by his sleeve over to meet the rest of the pack. He talks to them, tells them about how important they are and how lucky he is to be the one to have found them.

He keeps trying to publish his findings but no one else seems to be able to find them and whenever he brings a photographer out they’re always hiding. One day he brings his own camera, thinking the wolves are used to him and just scared of everyone else and he finds one of the pack dead. He doesn’t take a picture of course, feels it would be disrespectful to the creatures that so readily welcomed him. Instead he goes back to his jeep grabs a shovel and a knife before coming back to dig the poor thing a proper grave and putting down a marker with a big rock and doing his best to add an engraving. While placing the wolf in its grave he notices bullet wounds and cuts on the body and figures out someone had killed one of HIS wolves.

The next week he spends looking for a tracker that can help him find who hurt his pack -figures if they went after one they might have been going after the others too and are still possibly camped out somewhere. That leads him to Derek who agrees oddly quick considering Stiles can’t offer him much in the way of payment.

Day one Stiles leads Derek to the grave and where he found the wolf. The man does his tracker thing and starts leading them even deeper into the forest. It takes a couple of days before they find the hunter’s now deserted camp that has some bullets and gear left behind, even a gun. Derek seems even angrier than Stiles that they had only missed them by a day or so given the remains of a campfire. They stay there for the night before moving on first thing in the morning. Takes another few days before they find an active campsite with several hunters.

They try to lay low but at some point Derek loses his cool and gets them caught and subsequently captured (he had heard them talking about the pack mate they killed, not that Stiles knows that). The hunters tie them up and do their typical hunter thing which is how Stiles not only finds out about werewolves but that the dire wolf descendants he thought he discovered were really the pack fully shifted.

Anyway turns out the pack had been following their entire journey from a far and the night after Stiles and Derek are captured they attack the hunters camp. Both Stiles and Derek are seriously injured but Stiles being human is the more pressing issue. Stiles wakes up like days later in a super fancy house next to a wall of heat. The wolf that had introduced him to the pack initially which is, of course, Derek. The man had refused to leave his side since they left the camp. And once everyone is sure Stiles is alive and mostly well the pack introduce themselves as humans.

Then happily ever after and all that jazz.

[parkerslatte]

Fighter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: blood. injury. near death experience.

Summary: Azriel was severely injured on a mission and his chance of survival is low and his mate and wife refuses to leave his bedside.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Azriel was laid motionless in his bed. The only indication of life was the shallow rise and fall of his chest that seemed to get slower and slower day by day. On the left side of his bed, Rhys and Cassian sat looking helplessly at their brother before them. There wasn’t anything they could do for him no matter how much they wanted to. 

Sitting on the right side of Azriel’s bed was Y/N. Her hand clutched his still and cold one between hers tightly. There were dried tears under her eyes as she looked at her mate and husband before her. The blanket covering his body did little to show the large scar staring from his hip and ending at his shoulder. It was an angry red but Madja had calmed everyone that the redness would go down with time. 

“If only I didn’t send him on that stupid mission,” Rhys mumbled. “Then he wouldn’t be here.”

No one responded. The only sound heard was the rain hitting the window outside. 

Y/N brushed Azriel’s hair away from his forehead. After the mission it had been caked with blood and grime and now after many washes it was soft to the touch. She only wished she could listen to his small content sighs as her fingernails scratched his scalp. 

“Don’t blame yourself, Rhys,” Y/N replied after a while of silence. “He would have gone on that mission regardless.”

“But I could have gone with him,” Cassian said. “I could have protected him.”

“And possibly gotten yourself hurt as well,” Y/N responded, finally lifting her gaze to meet Cassian and Rhys. “Then we would be in a position where both of you could have been severely wounded.” Y/N’s gaze returned to Azriel. “I don’t wish for Nesta to feel the way I am right now.”

“You shouldn’t be feeling like this at all, Y/N,” Rhys said. “You two should be in your own house safe and sound.”

“Well that is an impossibility right now, Rhys.” Y/N’s tone was clipped and short. “I’m sorry to ask you this but could I be alone with him?”

Rhys and Cassian immediately got to their feet. “Of course,” Cassian responded. 

“If you want or need anything Y/N, make sure to ask,” Rhys said as he placed his hand upon Y/N’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be okay.” It was all Y/N said. It was all she could say. 

When Rhys and Cassian left she barely heard them as she let fresh tears fall. “Az, you need to come back to me, baby.” Y/N shuffled her chair closer to the bed, her knees knocking painfully against it but she didn’t care. “I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes.”

There was no movement from Azriel and it only made Y/N’s tears fall in a more rapid succession. 

“Madja healed you the best she could but she made no promises that you would wake up. But I need you to, my love. Please, just give me a sign that you are in there, please, just anything,” Y/N’s voice was full of desperation and she spoke to her husband. Y/N didn’t even know that something could be as painful as this.

Y/N watched Azriel for any sign of him listening to her. But there was nothing. No flicker of his eye under his eyelids. No stutter in his breathing. No twitch of his finger. There was absolutely nothing. 

Y/N screamed. 

***

The sun was high in the sky and Y/N stepped through the gate to her and Azriel’s cottage. It was on the edge of Velaris, far from the centre of the city. In her small wicker basket, Y/N had two fresh bouquets of flowers, courtesy of Elain. The blistering heat made Y/N wipe the sweat from her brow as she approached her front door, fishing the keys out of the basket. 

As she went to place the key in the hole, she found that the door was open the smallest amount and Y/N’s guard immediately went up. As her grip tightened on the basket, she pushed the front door open. Their living room was large but cosy, filled with many blankets and pillows of all different textures. The windchimes hanging just beside the front door sounded out as a small breeze blew bast. 

“Hello?” Y/N called out, reaching for the dagger concealed behind a painting Feyre gifted her. 

However, Y/N immediately dropped the dagger and basket as her mate walked around the corner. A smile immediately spread across Y/N’s face as she launched herself at him. 

“Hi, baby,” Azriel’s low voice whispered in her ear as she wrapped her arms around him. His arms making their way around her, his hand cradling her head. 

“You weren’t meant to be back yet,” Y/N said. 

“I finished what I needed to do early,” Azriel mumbled into her shoulder. “The first thing I did was come here, even Rhys doesn’t know I’m back.”

Y/N gripped onto him tighter, afraid that if she let him go, he would disappear. It had been two months since Rhys sent Azriel on a mission and it had been two months since Y/N had spoken to Azriel. The only contact she had with him was the wave of love he sent through the bond each night, but that was never enough. Y/N craved to hold him within her arms. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N replied. “I would have stayed here to wait for you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Azriel said.

“Well it has been the best surprise ever,” Y/N said, pulling away from the hug to capture Azriel’s lips with her own. 

Azriel dropped his arms to her waist, wrapping them around her tightly. Y/N pulled away and rested her forehead on his. “I missed you so much,” she said looking into his eyes. The colour ingrained into her brain.

“Well you’ll be happy to know that I won’t be going on any missions for a while,” Azriel said. 

“Why? Are you okay? Did Rhys tell you to take some time off?” Y/N asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought of the worst possible reasons. 

Azriel smiled brightly. The smile only Y/N got to see. “I’m fine, Rhys doesn’t know that I am taking time off yet.”

“Then why are you? Not that I’m complaining or anything,” Y/N said, pecking his lips. 

The smile on Azriel’s face only seemed to light up his face further. “Well since you and I are going to be planning a wedding, I will have no time for my duties.”

“Wedding?” Y/N asked. “What wedding?”

Azriel reached behind him. “Ours.” He revealed the most beautiful ring Y/N had ever seen. It was simple but it was perfect. 

Y/N stumbled back. “Az, you can’t be serious?”

“I’m completely serious,” Azriel said. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“But we have already been mated for years and you have never mentioned anything about getting married,” Y/N said.

“I saw how you looked when Elain and Lucien got married,” Azriel said. “And I’ll be honest that I bought this ring nearly a year ago, long before the wedding.”

“You want to marry me?” Y/N said, tears springing to her eyes. 

“I want nothing more in my life,” Azriel replied, taking her hand in his. “It would be an honour to call you my wife.”

A single tear fell down Y/N’s cheek but she smiled wide. “It would be an honour to call you my husband.”

“So is that a yes?” 

Y/N nodded. “Yes, Azriel. I will marry you.”

***

Y/N awoke with a smile on her face as she reached to the other side of the bed, searching for her husband’s warmth. Only when she opened her eyes did she realise what her reality was. Azriel was still laying in the bed and his breathing seemed even shallower than it had been before she fell asleep. 

Her chair scraped the floor as she leaned closer to caress his face. His dark eyelashes rested delicately on his cheeks, Y/N had always been jealous of them. There was no small flutter of them at all. All Y/N wanted him to do was open his eyes. His beautiful eyes. 

“Please,” Y/N whispered, her lips brushing his cheek. “Please wake up.”

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway. Y/N hadn’t heard her open it. “I brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N said, her voice void of emotion.

Feyre sighed and made her way further into the room. “You need to eat something, it’s been days.”

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N said, settling back in her seat but kept Azriel’s hand firmly clasped between hers. 

“At least have a drink of water,” Feyre said, offering a glass to Y/N. 

Y/N tore her gaze away from Azriel and looked at the glass Feyre was offering. She didn’t want to take it but her mouth was dry. With great reluctance, Y/N released one of her hands from Azriel’s and took the class of cool water. 

“Have you been here all night?” Feyre asked. 

“I haven’t left since he was brought in here,” Y/N answered. “I can’t leave.”

“I know that you don’t want to leave him, Y/N, but you need to take care of yourself too,” Feyre said gently. “Why don’t you get dressed in some clean clothes? I will stay here with Azriel and if he moves, I will immediately come and alert you.”

Y/N looked at her mate and husband laying on the bed. “I can’t leave because I know that if I do, there is the possibility that he stops breathing.” Tears glistened in Y/N’s eyes as she looked up at Feyre. “And I will regret for the rest of my life that I was not there with him while he passed.” 

Feyre placed her hand on top of Y/N’s and gave it a small reassuring squeeze. “I have not known Azriel as long as you, Y/N. But what I do know about him is that he is a fighter. And above all, he will always fight for you, he will always fight to come back to you.”

Y/N sighed. “I know. And I will always fight for him. But this time it is different, Feyre. I have seen Az injured beyond what I thought could be possible. I have seen wounds like you would ever believe, but he powered through it. You never saw the look on his face when he appeared on the doorstep. He was scared, Feyre. I had never seen that look on his face before.”

Y/N took a shaky breath and stood from her chair and perched on the edge of Azriel’s bed. Her hand gently cupped his cheek. 

“I had never seen such fear in his eyes. When he collapsed in my arms he whispered one thing in my ear, ‘I will always love you both’. He did not believe that he would survive. He risked everything so he could see me one last time.” Y/N said. 

“‘I will always love you both’? What did he mean by that?” Feyre asked. 

“I’m pregnant, Feyre,” Y/N said and allowed the enchantment that concealed her scent to fall. “We were going to tell everyone after he was home and we had a few days just to ourselves. But it seems like we will never get the chance. I can feel the bond fading every single minute. It feels like I am clutching at air trying to hold onto it.”

“He will wake up, Y/N,” Feyre said, determination lacing her tone. “Even if I have to wake him up myself, I will make sure he comes back to you. I will make sure he will meet his child.”

Tears fell freely down Y/N’s cheeks. “I really need him to come back, Feyre. I can’t do any of this without him.”

“He will wake up, Y/N. Az would never leave you alone. In the years I have known you both, I have never seen two people so in love with one another. Whenever you walk into the room, he lights up. Whenever your name is mentioned he listens in. Whenever you smile at him, his shadows always seem happier. He thinks no one notices but we all do.”

“I love him so much, Feyre,” Y/N sobbed. “I need him so badly.”

Feyre shuffled closer and hugged Y/N. “He will come back. You will get to hold him in your arms again. He will meet his child and the two of you will live happily. There is no possible way on this planet where Azriel would let you live in a world where he isn’t in it.”

Y/N nodded into Feyre’s shoulder. “You make him sound like a stalker.”

Feyre let out a quiet laugh as she pulled away and wiped the tears from Y/N’s face. “Now let’s get you some proper food. Because you know that Azriel will kill you if he finds out that you are not taking care of yourself.”

Y/N smiled. It is small and barely there but it was a smile. “Yeah, he would.”

“I need to make Nyx his lunch so what do you say about sandwiches?” feyre asked. 

“Sandwiches are fine with me,” Y/N answered. 

As Y/N began to pull her hand away from Azriel’s, she felt his fingertips curl around hers. He head snapped to where they were connected. A small gasp left Y/N’s lips as she clutched his hand a little tighter. In return she was greeted by his grip twitching within hers. 

“He moved,” Y/N said. “He moved Feyre.”

A soft smile appeared on Feyre’s face. “He knows you’re here,” Feyre said. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

As soon as Feyre was out of the room, Y/N sat back down by Azriel’s side. “Hey, baby. I miss you and love you.” Another gentle squeeze of Y/N’s hand. She smiled, tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait until you wake up. It may be many months away, but our child is desperate to meet you. They’re desperate to hear your voice again. And so am I. I can’t wait to listen to you tell me about your day, about how much you love our small family. I can wait to hear a stupid joke you heard that you will only ever tell me. I just can’t wait until you wake up.”

Azriel didn’t squeeze Y/N’s hand again but deep down Y/N knew that he heard it and knew that she was there. She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss against his knuckles before placing it down by his side once again. “I love you and I will see you later.”

***

It had been three days since Azriel had first squeezed Y/N’s hand and he had been making more movement since. His chest rose and fell in a healthier succession and there was the occasional twitch of his fingers, always in the direction of Y/N. Azriel was always reaching out in the direction of his mate and wife. 

Y/N still constantly remained by Azriel’s side, but occasionally took breaks to look after herself and the baby growing within her. Y/N had taken the time to inform the rest of the Inner Circle about her pregnancy and the news was greeted with congratulations but Y/N could tell they were holding back. The one other person who should have been celebrating with them could not be there. 

“I’m just saying that if it's a boy, you should name him after me,” Cassian said. 

Y/N had found herself once again in the company of Rhys and Cassian. Both of the males wanted to sit beside their brother in hopes he would wake up. Unlike the first time the three had sat together, the atmosphere seemed to be a little lighter. 

“Az is certain that it's a girl,” Y/N responded. “He wants to name them after his mother.”

Y/N looked down at Azriel with a small smile on her face. She could still picture his excitement when she told him that she was pregnant. Almost immediately he wanted to go out and start buying things for their child. 

“That’s sweet, but Cass can still be a girl’s name,” Cassian remarked, a teasing grin on his face. 

Y/N shook her head, a small amused smile creeping onto her face. 

Cassian groaned. “Rhys, when you and Feyre have another kid, what about the name–”

“I’m not naming our second child after you either,” Rhys replied. “Maybe go and pester Elain and Lucien next.”

Cassian laughed. “I still think it's a great name. You are missing out.”

“I’m not naming my child after you, Cassian,” A new voice entered the room. It was quiet and groggy.

Y/N’s gaze immediately shot down to the bed and noticed that Azriel’s eyes were opening and the grip he had on her hand tightened. 

Tears sprung to Y/N’s eyes. “Az…”

Azriel groaned as he shifted his head to look at Y/N. As soon as his eyes met hers, Y/N felt the bond come to life and that was when she broke down. So many emotions filled Y/N within seconds and she threw herself down on the bed, her head resting on Azriel’s chest. 

“My love, I thought you were gone,” Y/N wailed. 

Azriel slowly moved one of his hands to caress the back of her head. “I would never leave you. Either of you.” His voice was quiet and hoarse, yet Y/N could hear the love within it. 

Y/N lifted her head to look at Azriel and noticed both Rhys and Cassian slowly making their way out of the room. She noticed the tears shining in their eyes. 

“I never thought I would see you again,” Y/N said.

Azriel slowly pushed himself up on the bed, wincing in pain as he did so. 

“No, no,” Y/N said, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve done enough resting,” Azriel said, settling back against the headboard. “All I want to do is look at my wife and hold her in my arms.”

Azriel gently tugged Y/N forward until her forehead rested on his. “I heard everything you said to me.” He revealed. “I tried to move, I tried everything but I couldn’t. I had no way to reach you. I never thought I’d ever see you again. I never thought I would meet our child.”

A single tear fell down Azriel’s face and Y/N hastily wiped it away.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, gently cupping his cheeks. “All that matters is that you are here and you are okay. We don’t need to think about that anymore because you are awake and here.”

“I love you,” Azriel whispered. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replied. “Just promise me that you are not going on any missions for a while.”

“I won’t be,” Azriel said. “I will not be leaving this court at all until our child is born and probably long after. I don’t want to be put in this position again. I don’t want you to ever nearly lose me again. I want to see our child grow up. I want to be by your side for eternity. No mission or job could ever come before my family.”

Y/N gently pecked his lips. “I am so glad you are here, my love.”

“I will always fight to get back to you, Y/N,” Azriel said, nothing but love in his tone. “I love you too much to ever let you go.”

Y/N didn’t respond verbally, instead she gently shuffled forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. Azriel’s arms immediately latched around her, keeping her pressed against his body. Even when Y/N tried to pull away slightly to not hurt him, Azriel refused to let her. Y/N just relaxed into him. 

“Madja will need to come and check on you at some point,” Y/N mumbled. 

“Not right now,” Azriel said. “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Rhys and Cass will want to see you too,” Y/N said. 

“They can wait,” Azriel said. “And all the others can wait. Just for tonight I want to spend my time with my family. Just you and our child.”

Y/N pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “Then let’s just lay here all day then. I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be.”

“I cannot believe how lucky I am that I have you in my life, Y/N,” Azriel said, the stubble on his face scratching her bare shoulder from where her robe had fallen. 

“I am the lucky one, Az,” Y/N said. “I am lucky enough to have someone who would fight so hard to come back to me.” Y/N leaned back from the hug and placed his hand on her stomach. “To us.”

“I love you,” Azriel said, wrapping his arms back around Y/N’s body. “I love you both.”

Y/N only hugged him tighter and that was the way the small family remained, completely wrapped up in their own little world.

[surielstea]

Worried Mates

1k celebration request by @mira-says

Pairing: Poly!Bat Boys x Valkyrie!Reader

Summary: Reader gets badly injured and her three mates fuss over her.

Warnings: Light gore | canon-typical violence | injury | hurt/comfort | fluff | angst | happy ending

A.Note: This takes place during the war between humans and fae 500 years before the events of ACoTaR, Reader is a Valkyrie Commander.

2.1k words

"Gods—" I grunt, gripping my aching side. The war between mortals and fae was raging, and it seemed that it wouldn't be stopping any time soon.

When my half-sister, Miryam, had told me that she planned on fleeing with Prince Drakon once the war was over I thought she must've been insane. I only wanted joy for my sister of course, but it was foolish of her to think the two of them could have their happy ending after helping initiate this war.

But now, bleeding out and surrounded by enemies I was starting to understand the appeal of leaving everyone behind and escaping with my mates. I was at death's doorstep, too tired to even lift my sword, and I wanted nothing more than to be in the arms of the males I loved most.

I watched all my companions die off, my friends, Valkyrie's far better than me dying before me. It wasn't right.

I was the commander of the Valkyrie units, and now they're gone. Commander of no one because I failed them all by leading them into a war I knew we couldn't win.

An armed fae charged towards me, his sword held high as he screamed like a madman.

I tightened my grip on my shield and used his momentum against him, his sword clanging hard to the Illyrian steel of my shield as I pushed it back into him. He tumbled to the ground under the weight of it and with the sharp point of my shield I thrusted it straight into his chest. He fell limp.

A battle cry sounded from behind me and I groaned, every inch of my body protesting any further movement. I unsheathed my heavy sword while turning around to face a hulking male, lifting it up in challenge.

He swings first, his scarlet-covered blade meeting mine. He was much stronger than me, bigger too but he was slow. He pushed hard and my aching arms strained under the pressure. I steadied my breathing and pushed his blade away from me. He came back swinging with twice the force, going right for my head. I bent back, my spine screaming at me as his blade swung just above my nose, the sharpness of it slicing into a rogue hair that had strayed from its braid.

With the remaining energy I honed, I thrust my sword into the male's chest. He yelped, his sword clattering to the ground, and with one last attempt to gut me, he swung to grab me with his free hand. I screamed as I felt a searing pain in my side. I looked down to find a large knife embedded into my torso. When I looked back to the male he twisted the knife and I felt as if my entire body was set aflame. I clenched my teeth together as I plunged my sword into his chest again, and when I pulled it out he was already in the dirt, receiving the same fate as his comrades.

My knees buckled as I looked at my side again, blood pooling at my feet as it ran down my leg.

I dug my sword in the ground, using it for support so I could at least stay standing. My entire left side felt paralyzed as I continued to lose that precious scarlet liquid.

I squeezed my eyes shut before forcing them open, my vision bleary as I grew increasingly dizzy.

In the distance, I saw another armed soldier charging at me. For a moment I debated letting him have my life, it was soon nearing a close anyway.

But I hadn’t trained for years to be cut down by a measly foot soldier, hadn’t clawed and scraped my way through ranks to die by a stranger's hand. I curse, deciding that I wouldn't go out in forfeit, I would die fighting or I would not die at all. With only my right arm I lifted my sword up toward the sky, ready to strike.

But just as he was about to reach me a gleam of red flashed and the soldier's head went flying in the opposite direction of his body. Directly in front of me stood a male, glowing in red, my vision began to darken at the corners but I could recognize those wings anywhere. "Oh thank the gods," I sighed in pure relief, falling to my knees as Cassian ran forward to catch me before my head could hit the hard ground. He spotted the gushing wound in my side immediately, then looked at my dilated pupils.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He rasped, his voice raw from shouting commands at soldiers over the fields. “Cass,” I hum his name, the familiarity of it bringing me a warm feeling. I was glad to see he was unharmed. “Lean on me,” He says while gently brushing my stubborn hairs away from my sweat, and most likely blood, lined forehead.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Was all I managed to hear from him before darkness consumed me and my vision blackened entirely.

When I cracked my eyes open I immediately winced at the harsh light of the room I was being kept in. The sound of frustrated voices registered first, then the smell of lavender, and the softness of the pillow behind my head, and then finally my vision came. I spotted Rhysand and Cassian first, quietly bickering over something I couldn’t find in myself to care for. They were both changed from their armor, cleansed from the blood and dirt of the war. Even though they both looked clean and seemed how they always did I could tell something was off. Their wings were terse and the bags beneath their eyes were prominent.

It took a lot to mar the beauty of a Fae male, especially the two of them, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen them more distressed.

They continued their hushed argument, oblivious to the fact that I had woken up so I cast my eyes elsewhere, toward the third male in the room who had his head tilted downward, his scarred hands in his lap. He stared at those scars, his shaky hands making it seem like he’d done something wretched, so horrid he somehow didn’t think it probable that it was done with his own hands.

My brows creased, all three of them were in sorrow, and whether it was because I was bedridden or it was simply the after-effects of the war I was unsure.

“Good morning,” Is all I can think to say. It was casual, a little hoarse, but simple.

The room fell silent and all three heads snapped towards me. Their lips all formed tight straight lines as they bored their eyes into me.

I couldn’t tell if it was shock or relief, perhaps both.

A large smile cracks across my lips. “Were you guys worried about me?” I suggest, raising my brows accusingly.

“Gods,” A large figure crashes into me and I groan. Cassian clings to me tightly, hugging me into his warm chest. “Of course, we were worried,” He whispers, as if afraid he’d break this moment by speaking any louder.

“You’re crushing her, Cass,” Rhys says from behind him and I chuckle, looking at the violet-eyed male and giving him a gentle smirk which he matched. I pulled away from Cassian’s embrace first and he reluctantly let go of me.

“I’m sorry love,” Azriel sighed, his hand coming to intertwine with my fingers. “Sorry for what Az?” My brows crease.

“My shadows should’ve been with you, I could’ve stopped that soldier from hurting you—” The Illyrian starts but Cassian cuts him off.

“No Az it’s my fault, I should have been there sooner. I should have taken that dagger not her—” He tried but this time it was Rhys to cut him off.

“Both of you stop being ridiculous, I was the one that allowed her to fight, it was my mistake from the beginning,” The High Lord asserts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My gods, do you three ever quit taking the blame for everything?” I looked pointedly at Rhys when I spoke. “I would’ve commanded the Valkyries to fight alongside you whether it was cleared or not,” I confess and Rhys subtly frowns at that, the unspoken question of me being the last Valkyrie was now answered with that expression. A wave of shame passed over me, but I pushed it aside for now, deciding to spend this moment with my three very paranoid, but very alive mates.

“I’m fine,” I give Azriel’s hand a squeeze.

“Madja said if the blade went even a fraction deeper it would’ve been fatal,” The blue siphoned male argued, and my brows bunch.

“But it didn’t,” I state.

“But it could have,” He snarled and I had never seen him so angry, so scared.

My eyes softened and I let a soft smile grace my features. “Az,” I whispered, attempting to bring him comfort to remind him I was alive and healthy.

Azriel was the first of the three that I bonded with, we’ve always had a different connection because of it. I’ll love all of them equally no matter what, but it left Azriel to be more protective of me than the other two.

He stands suddenly, our hands still tangled. “You nearly died, you nearly abandoned us for a place where we aren’t allowed to join you,” He snapped and my heart ached at the pained look on his face. I would’ve been furious too if it were him on the brink of death, I would’ve found a way to steal him back from death itself if that treacherous event were to come.

“Azriel,” Cassian snapped at the male but I held a hand up, waving him off.

I sat up, my side screamed at me in protest but I ignored it. I wore my softest white nightgown, only realizing it once I stood from the bed, slightly unsteady but upright nonetheless. I narrow my gaze at Azriel.

“I am here, I am alive,” I say. “A little scratched up but I don’t think Rhys will let me out in the field anytime soon,” I smile and Rhys shifts behind me.

“You heard that right,” The High Lord grumbled under his breath and I tossed him a glance over my shoulder.

I look back to Azriel, reaching for his other hand and holding them both. “See? I’m alright, I promise,” I look up at him lovingly and his shoulders dip in relief.

“Okay,” He nods, silently cursing himself for acting out so brashly. “You just, had me worried is all,” He excuses and I smile softly, letting go of one of his hands in favor of cupping his jaw.

“I know honey, I know,” I murmur before lifting up and placing a reassuring kiss on his lips, he returns it by bringing his free hand to my hip, pulling me closer.

“Is it just me or do you feel excluded too?” Cassian loudly whispered to Rhysand and I giggled against Azriel’s lips, pulling away and turning my head to cast a playful glare at the two piqued males, clearly attention-deprived.

“Then come over here already,” I give them an inviting smirk and they quickly scramble around the bed to reach me and it takes everything in me not to giggle at how desperate they were to be in my clutches yet again.

“One for you,” I placed my hand on Rhys’ jaw and gave him a soft peck, he barely had time to reciprocate it until I was rearing back. “And,” I grabbed Cass by his shirt. “One for you,” I gave him the same kiss.

“You taste like a coma,” The male murmured, smacking his lips and I rolled my eyes.

“You each got one, are you three satisfied now?” I arch a brow.

“Satisfied? Nowhere near it darling,” Rhys grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up and over his shoulder.

“Wait! I’m still not fully healed yet!” I yelped, banging my fists on his back playfully.

“We’ll be gentle,” Cassian reassured with a gleeful smile. I looked at Azriel but he only smirked.

“No promises,” He shrugged and I groaned, letting my body go limp as Rhys carried me towards the High Lord's chambers.

“If you guys open my stitches I’ll give all of you stitches,” I threatened but none of them seemed to care, and to be honest nothing sounded better than the idea of being cradled by three tan, very large, Illyrians after such a long war.

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[yangcherie]

mating season

𐀔 pairings: astarion x reader. karlach x reader. halsin x reader. background cast (wyll, shadowheart, lae’zel, gale) x reader. background rolan x tav.

𐀔 content warnings: tiefling!tav, LITERALLY PWP, alcoholic consumption, brief sexual memory (halsin), heavy petting, noncon to dubcon (with astarion only), slight slutshaming, oral (f!receiving), mentions of breeding, afab anatomy but g/n pronouns. astarion is very slightly, slighty mean, up to you if he is ascended or not.

𐀔 sypnosis: you, a tiefling, go through your first heat cycle around your companions. some are willing to either indulge you or take advantage of you.

𐀔 author’s note: hoppinh on the bandwagon of tieflings having heat / rut cycles. astarion, briefly halsin, ROLAN and karlach get some action, teehee. and don't worry. everyone is a pervert and thinks about it. everyone will get a chance. someday. merry christmas!!

The first thing everyone wakes up to is heat. Sweltering, palpable heat, pervading the air up to the point it felt like it was trying to smother them, casting annoying, relentless burnishes of perspiration on their skin.

It couldn’t be the sun, no. The warmth felt too close, within of reach – but even then, it was no lively and unextinguished campfire, no engine out of hand nestled within Karlach, Shadowheart concluded.

They’d all been taking turns the entire morning seeking cold relief in the stream. Thankfully, as the day prevailed, the sun was no longer so glaring, the heatwave lessening by a tad bit, the rest of the party excluding a certain Ravenguard had found it now bearable.

It wasn’t until Wyll was fed up with the sweat that would inevitably come no matter how much he wiped at it, marching towards where it felt most blistering, most fervent; the intense source.

It had led him to your tent — and without doubt, the demon believed the source was your tent; your fucking otherworldy furnace of a tent. Even as he stood from outside, the heat was practically choking him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took a look inside and finds out you, little fiend you, stuffed the entire Nine Hells inside. And take a look inside he does, peeling away the entrance, a delirious but polite request to turn down the heat ready on his tongue —

But it isn’t the Nine Hells’ heat and musk that slaps him to his face, to his utter surprise.

It’s you; trembling, flushed raw and in all of your fiendish glory, naked. Tail loud and thumping on the floor as your whimpers permeate through the air, legs spread and — No!

Somewhere in the back of his horned head, he wonders if it’s the heat, the shock, or simply his building arousal that has rendered him stuck to his position. It takes Wyll all his strength he can muster to tear his eyes away; what was he doing? He was intruding on your tent— your privacy! How could he forget basic etiquette, so much for being a noble-!

(Without a doubt, he’s ruined his chance of any traditional courtship.)

“Sorry.” The Blade himself awkwardly coughs before pushing himself out of your tent with an inhuman force, slamming the fabric entrance shut and tripping on his own two feet on the way out. “It’s Tav!” He shouts, sprinting with little idea on where to; the heat is unbearable and by the gods, he isn’t so sure anymore if it was coming from your tent or if it was simply his body. His commotion with Tav gathers the attention and eyes of his fellow companions, and it is both Karlach and Shadowheart that push at him to settle him down.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you!” Karlach, ever the concerned companion with her furrowed brows, assures him like steed. “Tav, you mentioned?” Shadowheart, upon quick confirmation that he was not injured, is quick to coax him for answers of his behavior. He’s a bit mortified as his little flustered fit had everyone around him.

“Tav, they’re– get this–” Wyll swallows, tense with the image of you squirming and dripping still on the front of his mind. “T-they’re hot.”

It’s a dreadful thing, he realizes later a split second more than he’d like, the silence that follows. Through the tadpole, they’ve seen what he’s seen; and judging from the atmosphere, they’re chalking it up to an active imagination. All but loud, with a lone cricket chirping in the distance. He shoots up to in an attempt to explain, but wordlessly splutters instead.

“So you’ve had your first wet dream, I take it?” Astarion scoffs, finding the dirt under his manicured nails more interesting than what the fiend had to say next. “Had an issue with morning wood, perhaps– or should I say, a hardened blade?”

“No!” Wyll refutes, now standing up with the help of Shadowheart. “I-I meant to say they’re hot, literally. They’re drenched with sweat, lookin’ like they’re about to keel over. You saw it, in my head, what they looked like!”

“Ah, yes.” The vampire recalled that vision. Though brief and concerning, yes, it was also undeniably delectable. What he wouldn’t give to have seen you writhing with want up close. But still, he slips his desperation behind a theatric mask. “Like a mutt in heat, how hilarious.”

“In heat.” Karlach had repeated Astarion’s words and bristled, her muscles twitching once but violently enough that it had them staring at her like they had been with Wyll. The look on her face tells everyone she’s had her eureka moment, a light flickering beside her head. “Tav is in heat. Of course they are; it’s breeding season!” She guffaws then, disregarding the disbelief of the party — save for Halsin, who simply nodded.

“So what you’re saying is we have a feral, unspayed animal amongst us for the time being?” Lae’zel grunted, though she certainly did not mind if the blush on her face was anything to go by.

“Mating season is upon most of the forest.” The druid responded, crossing his thick arms, ever the calm elf. “Given the... more animalistic features of some cambions, it is not entirely unreasonable. Given the intensity, it must be their first heat since you’ve all been on this journey.” The party gapes; Karlach nods, and though she does not mention it, she’s mildly disappointed your heat had not aligned with her rut.

“So, what you’re both saying is that they need to breed – or be bred?” Though the vampiric rogue balked, he was unable to deny the inkling of lust that washed through him at the idea. You, and your all proud visage crumbling into one of a desperate, slut of a fiend.

“Well, when you put it in such a frank and vulgar manner...” Gale coughs, flushed, Astarion notices, inwardly grimacing. The wizard’s never been discreet about liking your musk – and today, it is especially honeyed and heavy around the campsite. “Yes.”

And that’s when it hits the rogue, the shared tension and ignited lust in everyone – not just Gale. It’s a slow and heavy shift, like puffs of smoke. The current of lust in the air runs deeper when a small, inviting moan permeates from your tent. The sounds of heavy breaths and trousers shifting from around the party, it all goes unobserved to any eye that doesn’t belong to an experienced rogue.

Still, the rest would’ve been fools to think only one or two of them would be intrigued, he thought. It was with a silent agreement amongst them that by the end of this week, you’d be thoroughly savoured.

The first thing you wake up to is a dull ache across the expanse of your stomach, and a pool of your own arousal drenching the bedroll between your legs. Your bed-kissed face tightens, glaring down at the growing tension in your belly. A groan is torn out of your dehydrated throat – and if the obvious lack of sun on your tent was anything to go by, you’ve slept through nearly the entire day.

Fuck, what was going on? Distoriented, you attempt to sit up only for the dull ache to morph into heated convulsions that immediately spread like wildfire around your weakened body. It was then that you realized that to your utter horror, you were burning hot, to the Nines and beyond — as if you were forcefully thrown into an early heat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. The edges around your vision blackened for a split second before you violently lurched yourself out of your too-warm, too-cramped tent, slamming your palms and knees into the dirt ground and digging your nails in, your mouth open to welcome the hot pants stuck in your dry throat.

You spat out a vicious string of Infernal curses, your focus blurring in and out of itself. You shut your mouth, biting your lip to keep in whimpers, sweat trickling down from your forehead as your mind fought in vain against the primal urges now closing in on it; the feral ache for relief deeming itself more important than reason.

Relief. Fuck, it sounded good right now. You hissed, your mental resolve crumbling, tail furiously lashing against the dirt. Relief. Your eyes darted around the camp anything that could relieve the heat in your loins; Shadowheart and her healing hands or a cool river stream to let the water wash over you, but fuck, you needed real relief. A body you could sink your teeth into and ride until the next morning – preferably Karlach, or Halsin–!

Thick, strong Halsin.

“You feel good, little one.” Halsin quietly groaned up from above you, touching you as if he’s been longing to.

He moves inside you; thick cock bruising your insides. Every open-mouthed gasp and hurt or pleasured cry was eagerly welcomed into his own mouth with wet kisses. He was unrelenting, but kind. Full of sinew your hands could run across or scratch in slight distaste if the fat tip of his length pressed a sensitive spot deeper than you’d have liked. And without fail, he had laughed everytime, gentle and light, even if his deep thrusts into your spent hole were anything but.

He must have been trying to burrow in you with how deep he was inside, letting you raggedly cry into the slope of his neck meeting the thickness of his shoulder. Halsin set out to plant an apologetic kiss into the crook of yours, fucking you deep until you fluttered around him, dragging him to his peak alongside you.

No, you winced, tearing your eyes open and your mind out of its lust-ridden gutter, the burn inside you relentless. No Halsin nor Karlach, not a single soul that could provide you relief to be found around camp — and damn them all, you were in no state to be crawling around searching for even the slightest whiff of their scent in gods know where.

Relief.

Yet another infuriating wave of heat rolled through you, forcing you to clench your hands and drive dirt beneath your nails. What remained of your rationality sought out to the crevices of your memories, ones that weren’t flooded of nightly trysts with the druid elf or — Rolan.

Relief – Rolan. A drop of your drool hitting the ground; Rolan with his horns you could grip and sharp teeth that could sink into your shoulder. No doubt warmly cooped up in Ramazith’s Tower, signing trades or shoving his nose in dusty books. He’d do, for tonight – he’d understand, indulge you and lift you from the unbearable heat clouding your head. He wouldn’t mind, you know it, because you’d be a blind fool to not see the way his eyes would fondly trail over your face, or the dips in your body.

He wants you, and for tonight, you will do him a favor and want him back.

You urge your trembling body to stand up and begin the treacherous trek from camp to the Gate’s city.

It was only the next night, moon high, that you sauntered into camp instead of out your tent, sporting a relieved glow, a fresh set of bites around your throat, a heavy limp, and of course, the hands of a flushed Rolan around your waist.

Your ragtag party watched from their campfire logs, a petty and envious air about them whilst the winsome smile on your face turned into an airy laugh as Rolan tenderly cupped your jaw with his hands, whispering something that had you curling your tails together. You shook your head and sweetly pecked his cheek as he nodded and bumped your horns together like lovers as a bid goodbye before stepping back to part ways.

“Well?” Karlach greeted with an amiable smile as you joined the group’s circle, having been worriedly sniffing around and asking for you the entirety of the morning; your scent lingering faintly around the air but with no continued path as to exactly where you were. She knew firsthand the extent of pain and delirium heats could bring, and god forbid you had fallen in the wrong hands.

(And thankfully, you hadn’t. She was simply glad you found someone trustworthy to mingle with instead of being alone.)

You scooched near her with a charmingly teasing grin, matching her liveliness, turning a blind eye to the tension in the air. “Well, what?” And before the red-skin tiefling could play banter with you, a certain rogue had pettily overtook the conversation.

“Well, did you enjoy your little fling?” Astarion dryly teased, a goblet of wine in his spindly hands and a sardonic smile on his face. He let the wine swivel for a moment. “Enjoyed playing charity, whoring yourself out?”

Karlach quietly called out his name in a disappointed manner, either to scold or deter him from what next he could say.

“What can I say?” You entertain his snark, peeking around the campfire logs for a bottle of blingdenstone blush wine; grabbing ahold of ot and pouring yourself a goblet. Taking a gracious swig, you allow the fruity taste to melt on your tongue. “My company is sought after.”

“Sought after? You amuse me,” The pale elf laughs, dry in a manner that has you eyeing him, his hand tightening around the rusted goblet whilst you set down yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, glaring. “I’d say it’s desperation, on your side of the coin – you’d spread your legs to anyone asking politely, darling.”

You scrunch your nose at that, the warmth and flavor of the wine turning cold and bitter in your throat.

The silence is almost hostile around the campfire – the crackling of it serving to make it less awkward. “Take that damn wine out his hands,” you hear Wyll whisper to a reading Gale and a Lae’zel sharpening her dagger – but both the wizard and githyanki don faces that tell you they aren’t approving of your escapade either. You allow your eyes a brief roam around all their faces; finding it tightened in displeasure.

You don’t feel so well, all of a sudden. Some part inside you chalks it up to the wine.

Save for Karlach who was nudging you with her tail, pleading you from the corner of her eye; asking you to back down from Astarion. Considering it was an option until he opened his mouth once again, his breath smelling of merlot wine. “You’re missing out, you know.” He hisses when you raise him a brow.

“These flings you have,” he eyes around the party, making sure to pointedly look at Halsin for a second longer. You’re half-sure he’d vex Rolan if he was here. Slurring, he pauses again to savor another sip from his wine. “They can’t give you something real.” Your eyes meet his, hesitant, reading the unsaid but he can in them.

“You...” You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the light, the fire shedding a hopeful glint in his eyes for a split second at your tender tone of voice, face softening at the way you curl in yourself. “You’re drinking too much.” And just as quickly as it came, it left.

Something heavy twists in your gut; and you can’t quite decide if it’s from the wine, the second wave of your heat, or distress. Silently pushing yourself off the log, you might as well to take that soak in the river that you’d been dying for.

(You’re not very surprised to feel the many eyes piercing through you.)

Shortly after you left the circle, Karlach had followed you, indiscreet. It’s a game of chase, really – and she’s hot on your tail but you just keep evading her when she thinks she’s got you, a hairsbreadth away from her hands. The way your shoulders tremble with little laughs from your lips are not missed by her, and if she were any closer she’d chase it with her own.

(She smiles, not seen through the dark mouth of the night. Was it her presence or the alcohol that has made you soft?)

It’s not a long trek to the lake by any means, the path obscured by dense foliage she’d occasionally lose you in. Within moments, she’s at the edge of the water with the gravel crushing beneath her boots, overtaking the slow stream of water you’re delicately undressing by. Her longing gaze lingers on the slope of your jaw, the fullness of your lips and the fresh, deep indents of teeth along your shoulder. She’s unsure of whether it’s from Astarion’s feeding or Rolan.

It’s only when you’re fully bare that you turn to face her, that same plush smile that’s melted the hearts of hundreds.

“Are you joining me?” The sweet lilt of your voice makes the gears stop turning in Karlach’s nodding head, her body moving before her mind to start peeling away at her own clothes at the appealing invitation; wading into the water with you as soon as she’s done. A snort is pulled from her when you playfully splash at her with your tail when you hear her behind you.

“Don’t play a game you can’t win, you little...” Karlach jovially returns the splash, inwardly rejoicing at your giggle; this little, shared intimacy is nothing new, but it makes her heart lurch all the same. What she wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

By the gods, she could never get enough of that you and your joy. Some selfish, unbidden part of her hopes you’ll take her up on Wyll’s offer on the path to Avernus, for the sole reason to see it just a little longer.

She shifts around for a topic to hear your voice a little more, “How is your heat coming along?” The smile on your face falters slightly at her choice of inquiry – but you relax instantly. She’s one of your dearest friends, concern is her second nature.

“When is it never dreadful?” You shrug, casual though your words ring true. An unmated tiefling’s pain during a rut or heat was nothing short of agonizing. She watches the nervous swallow bob in your throat. “But I had a little bit of help- from Rolan.”

“Ah, the new master of the tower, was it?” You nod at her, and it comes to you once again that Karlach was no jealous woman. She was glad you had your fill of enjoyment. “He looks smitten with you; are you courting him?”

“Huh?” Your tail whacks against the relaxed surface of water in disbelief, a flush festering on your disgruntled face. “It’s more like the other way around, he bumped his horns to mine earlier.”

Karlach guffaws at your distress, tearing up with her joy until her breath catches on a sweet aroma. She squints, cautiously sniffing the air, once, twice – and she looks to you, pursing her lips when she realizes it isn’t the fragrances you’re washing over yourself; it’s just you, or rather, the second wave to your heat. She hopes the hunger welling in her isn’t clear in her eyes.

You smell really good, she thinks as she chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the dip of your back as your turn around. And you’re a really good friend, too good, maybe. She feels what she’s about to do isn’t very good.

Karlach doesn’t know what compels her to do what she does but she follows like it’s law; catching your wrist in her hand, capturing your jaw in her other and kissing you tender, swallowing the gasp that comes out.

It’s only when the air starts to feel thick with your heat and her lust that she pulls away, a string of spit following you both – and she’s already pulling away, horror welling up in her eyes but before she can grovel with apologies, you’re reeling her right back to your spit-slick lips with a moan so utterly full of want it has her pulling you closer.

“I can help you,” she murmurs against your taste before pulling away, your want reassuring her she’s got nothing to be sorry for. Your heaving breasts press against her face when she dips half of herself in the water to wrap her arms around your legs. She pleads. “Let me help you. Please.”

Karlach carries you with her muscled arms and settles you on the edge of a rock, softly parting your legs for you and making herself a warm home between them. The way she looks up at you gives you a bashful knot in your stomach.

“Do you want this?” She swallows thick, as if to wash away the heavy weight of her need, eyes situating her hands on your hips with a trembling but still dominant grip. “Use your words.”

You nod, frantic. Breathy pants now visible in the hot air. “I do,” your tongue feels weak when you speak, looking at her with dazed eyes. “P-please, I- I want it, Kar.”

It’s all the push she needs to lick a stripe up your slit, rendering you still when she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. It drags a heavy moan out of you and it’s nothing but music to her ears. She hopes it’s the sound that greets her in the afterlife instead of angels with their harps or trumpets.

“Ahah,” Karlach pants, hot against your clit, and you look down to see your slick running down her chin, her tail pulling you closer by your calf while yours whips around. “You taste so fucking good.” She murmurs against you, sending an arrow of pleasure straight through your trembling spine that makes her dive right back in, tracing your fluttering hole.

She tongues inside your hole, moaning when it tightens around her, fucking and writhing it around in response.

If the heat wasn’t so heavy, you’d think she was tracing her name on your cunt. You huff, rocking your hips into her face as much as you can with her hands firmly clasped around your hips. Your hands find themselves around her horns and they gently pull her head closer to you, riding her face as if to help brace you for the knot snapping in your stomach.

Karlach takes a moment to pause, smiling with your heady flavor on her lips, chuckling against your core. “So needy.”

You don’t last long, not with her smile and teeth and tongue around your folds, no, and it’s a blind rush of time and hot white when your thighs tremble around her head, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

“Karlach...!” You cry her name, cumming and convulsing around her tongue with open-mouthed moans. Her grip on you tightens, an Infernal curse leaving her as your slick taste floods her mouth. Her hands run over you, the small of your back, your hips and then to your ass, gripping the fat of it to keep you still while she laps at what little you have left to give; only giving in when you whimper and try to kick her away.

(In the rational crevices of your head, you’d hate to prove Astarion right about being a whore but fuck, does she make you feel good.)

It’s soft silence that fills the air, after you both cease your panting. You stare at the stars, head foggy with the orgasm that racked your body, humming when Karlach gently sets you in her arms again to wash your arousal away in the water while your head contentedly lies against her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to your bed, hm?” She coos, bumping her horns against yours – only letting you go to stand up again when she finishes washing and drying you, allowing you to clothe yourself. Time is a blur then, as you spend it aided to walk by her warm arms, staring at the intricate maze of foliage you’re surrounded about.

You’re snapped out your limping daze when you look around to see the foliage isn’t dark anymore, lit around by hues of oranges from a familiar campfire. Karlach grins, closed-eye as she squeezes you and kisses you warmly before nudging you towards the direction of your tent, quaintly lit up by a candlelight lamp you set inside earlier.

“Go inside,” she coaxes you, all-kind. It’s a certain emptiness you feel when you peel yourself away from her warmth with a whine that has her chuckling and pressing her lips against yours again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You do as she says, stumbling inside your tent and falling with a thud to your soft bed – but not without curling your lips into a loving smile, savoring the memory of her. It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to the hands of rest.

Fuck.

It’s the middle of the night when you’re next startled awake.

And it’s no surprise when you wake up to yet another surge of dull aching and your own arousal just starting to drip out of you. You waste little time; stumbling like a fawn out your tent, movements laden with the remnants of sleep –

You’re halfway out when your face slams against a body; lithe and cold, and in your sleep-ridden state, you could be convinced you just bumped into a slab of ice draped in flesh. But you urge your heavy lids to open up, to see the man, well, vampire you’d bickered with earlier, staring down at you from the very opening.

“Astarion,” you state, bleary-eyed and fisting your nightshirt closer; the fleece of it grounding you under his piercing gaze. Your heart is beating quick; a brief thought hopes it stays beating, and you will it away. You have half the mind to ask what he’s doing in front of your tent, but you have no time. The air is thick. The heat inside you is boiling. You need relief – Rolan.

“I...” Your words crawl in your throat, the line of your brows furrowing when you feel the familiar pinpricks of your heat pressing into you. “Please, move. I have somewhere to be.”

You almost feel small under the depth of his gaze; everything about him reeks of fury mingling with need.

“Off to find another bed to warm, I assume?” Astarion hisses with the slightest slur, the breath which he speaks out carrying the scent of fine wine – the air around him dangerous. Starving. He moves closer, and you, in all your confusion, slowly crawl back into your tent, unsure on what to fight first; the heat that consumes you or the danger you feel is about to overtake you.

“Astarion,” you mumble, this time with a bleat to your voice and your eyes wide like the lamb to be drained and slaughtered you feel you are. The air is heady; laden with fear and need thick like honey. Everything around you is too much. Where is Rolan? Karlach?

A hand tightens around your ankle, refusing to let go even as you yelp and watch Astarion force his way inside your cramped tent and crawls himself between your legs to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“No, no,” You whisper to him, shifting under him in a panic when you feel his familiar lips on your neck. “I’m sorry but you cannot feed from me tonight, Astarion. I need to leave, now.”

“I’m not here to drain you dry, silly.” Astarion’s voice is husky, breathy. It has you clenching your thighs around his hips; his hands clasp around yours in return. “Though, I am starving, I have something else in store for little you.” You grit in discomfort, the unease and desire a blend that you feel entirely drunk on.

(He would never admit it but that tender pit of terror in you has him salivating.)

“Leave...!” You hiss. He chuckles at that; the sound velvet-rich and grating, and does exactly the contrary – pushing himself closer to you until you’re chest-to-chest. You hate that you cannot see him tucked away to your neck. It does not help he is close to your raw, still-sensitive core; you have nothing on save for a long, flowy poet’s shirt thanks to a certain crimson tiefling.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can’t have you running off to somebody else.”

It’s then that you feel it; the press of a cruel, toothy smile against your throat and something of leather, something of warmth digging into the meat of your thigh. He is not here to drain you out of his anger, rather, he’s here to devour you, prey on you. You fear you’ve catched on belatedly.

“Mfh. I don’t want–” Your late, futile resistance is met with a finger to your lips, flushed thighs being pushed further apart as his hips slot between yours. Somewhere in the back of your muddled mind, you hear yourself keen with delight at the friction before he hushes you.

“You’re right, you don’t want it.” Astarion croons, watching as you writhe your hips against his for friction, as your bare cunt instictively grinds against the hot imprint of his still-clothed cock even as your head grasps for even a thread of coherence. “You need it, need this - need me.”

Your body does not deny his claim, arching your hips to meet his grinding, swollen folds clinging to his leather trousers – the pit in your stomach and the crawl up your spine indistinguishable between dread and ecstasy. The line of reason and morals are once again blurred in your head.

You curse yourself for having indulged in the alcoholic delicacy earlier. He’s emboldened by the wine; you’re weakened by it. The finger on your lips slip inside your mouth, firm on your tongue. You gag on it when his other hand clasped on your hip reaches down in between your legs and feels around for your, unsurprisingly, dripping vulva, the both of you gasping in delight.

“You’re soaked. What a fine surprise!” He chuckles, continuing to buck his clothed erection into your heat, petting your hair when you moan around his fingers. “I hope it’s because of me and not just your little heat.”

Your body is transparent, visceral with him, loyal to the promise of pleasure he can give you – even if your mind, what is left of your rationality indignantly fights tooth and nail to convince your body to stop giving in to animalistic pleasure.

It’s not long then, until Astarion becomes impatient, always having been; unlacing the ties on his trousers with one skilled hand and leaning over you to toss it off – it’s all too quick for your swarmed mind to catch up to, and the next thing you see and know is that you’re hissing through your teeth and thrashing while he pushes the burning head of his cock into you, hushing you as if you were a distressed animal. Your muscles tense, jerking away, a feeble little no on your lips—

But it’s an easy intrusion, a quick thrust into you is all it takes to bury himself deep with the help of your slick and his pre. He groans as, eyes rolling back as yours start to prick with tears, hold tightening on you as you whimper and turn limp like a ragdoll to his experimental thrusting. Some part of you wants to preen at the pleasure; the honeyed heat inside you pleased.

“Good- fuck, good pet.” He breathily murmurs, clasping a hand around your hip again; alternating between sensual grinding and abruptly slamming into you. All while he laughs and watches with a vicious smile as you’re torn between pathetically moaning and crying, the fingers in your mouth helping to muffle the sounds.

“See? Not so bad if you just close your eyes and give in.” He presses down particularly hard on your tongue when you wail at a sharp, unexpected thrust. He couldn’t have someone from the party playing hero. “I’m trying to help you.”

Tears sting at the corner of your eye, and you have no doubt you look pitiful right now - but fuck, he feels good. You don’t want to admit it, but you won’t deny it either; you needed this. And though you would have preferred to have it be Rolan, all gentle, rutting into you with sweet whispers and even sweeter promises, the heat in your body cannot be satiated with the tenderness he can give you. But you would rather stake him first than admit he’s helping you fill that gaping need in you.

“Astarion...” You furrow your brows and swallow around his fingers, your own life clinging to the back of your throat. It’s with a certain horror and desperation that you realize you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d like – and you know he knows, because he pulls his fingers out your mouth and presses a warm, spit-slick thumb to your aching clit. Your hole flutters around him, and you writhe around, the tightening burn of your incoming orgasm too much to handle. Pleasured, honeyed mewls are wrenched from you as his hips snap, driving his cock deep.

Astarion purrs – a hand on your thigh to help him slam into you, gripping hard enough to form bruises whilst the other was relentless at your clit. It’s with a shriek that you fall apart, seizing on his thrusts that only seem to quicken, the wet sound of skin on skin and your crying permeating through the entire camp, no doubt. He coos when a whine slips out of you, a tear gliding from your eye.

You’re seeing fucking white, blots of black dotted along your vision by the time he greedily slams inside you a final time with a low groan – something pleasingly warm filling you up, satiating you. Astarion holds your face and tugs it meet his for a breathy, passionate kiss whilst he twitches seed inside you - smiling in delight against your lips when you melt.

Relief is found; a warm glow settling on you despite your lids fighting their damndest to stay up. You’re a soft, slow little thing now, all but warm and ready to be taken by approaching slumber. Astarion gladly takes the chance to lie on his side and gather you in his arms, lips curving sweet yet again, but with less threat, as he watches you contentedly curl yourself up against his side. He sighs at the warmth that washes over him, thankful that fatigue has tamed you and fanned out that little spark and scratch you had earlier.

“Happy?” The smitten vampire asks, cheeky, smug as he pulls you closer into him, massaging your sore hips. “No need for you to go looking around for victims when you have me at your disposal, darling. I’d hate for you to lose sight on what really matters.”

You hum as if far away, you’d slap him in the morning that comes, but for now you’d let yourself be lulled into a soft, gentle slumber. A kiss on your head is the last thing you feel, a feeble little goodnight whispered.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Voluntary Sacrifice

inspired by this prompt/setup by @snowkissedmonsters as well as their art

The local werebear is in heat and its become a town concern. You, who's always been fascinated by him and doesn't much to lose reputationally, volunteer to help him through it.

If only he believed you were doing so voluntarily, instead of being forced by the council.

Can you convince him of your sincerity before the full moon rises?

Male werebear x human reader, Heat, NSFW

Status: Complete (One-shot)

Length: 12k

AO3: Voluntary Sacrifice

Prompt:

You live in a human town in a fantasy world. In recent history, werecreatures enlisted to fight alongside humans throughout a bitter war in the territory. The result of that alliance is a (sometimes tense) tolerance between these two species who generally do not get along.

In the wilderness near your town, a werebear veteran has made his home. Bearish in appearance and manner, he vastly prefers solitude and is actively hostile to visitors. Sometimes he comes into town to sell meat and pelts from his hunts. The other humans are frightened, but you find him fascinating and peculiarly handsome.

A slew of livestock deaths precede an emergency town meeting. There's no question who the culprit is, or why. The town elders understand that a werecreature in heat is aggressive and dangerous. The town's interspecies liason officer, a veteran who fought beside the werebear, explains that it's not a deliberate attack on the town's livelihood, but even so, the maulings cannot continue. It may only be a matter of time before a human is injured.

The liason suggests hiring one of the workers at the town brothel to act as a "heat soother," but the brothel workers don't want the job. There's still a stigma over non-human creatures. The werebear is dangerous, violent, monstrous. Who knows if a human mate would even survive.

Tentatively, you volunteer for the role. You have no living family that could be shamed, you're naturally infertile so there's no concern over cubs, and... Well. You like the idea of it, though you keep that last point to yourself.

You are escorted to the werebears cabin by the eager liason officer, who's just glad the precarious human-werebeast alliance is no longer in jeopardy. Answering the door, the werebear looks surprised to see the two of you...

Then annoyed.

I told you, he growls at the liason, I will not take a forced mate.

The officer coos and assures the bear that you are here voluntarily, which he seems to doubt very much. He throws you both out of his cabin and slams the door.

/

“Good luck!”

You stare after Anton, the liaison officer, as he rides away, at a complete loss of what to do now. You’ve felt a headrush of sorts, like sliding down a hill in winter, since you first resolved to volunteer to help Temar and his slamming of the door in your face was an abrupt stop before you even reached the bottom. You cross your arms, telling yourself its because of the mild chill, not out of anxiety or embarrassment.

But you are, so so embarrassed. You don’t know exactly what you thought his reaction to you might be, but stonewalled indifference and complete refusal to even entertain the idea of mating with you wasn’t one of them. Heat licks at your cheeks from the way he’d looked at you, his lip curled in a snarl, something more than even just annoyance in his eyes. You’d felt the urge to shrink right then and there and only surprise kept you frozen upright.

You know you weren’t as young as the other unaffiliated women in town, weren’t as pretty, weren’t as agreeable, but surely he couldn’t smell your infertility or whatever made you feel so out of place with everyone else. What about you had been so offputting he’d not even considered you for a mate? You’d almost hoped that whatever made you so unappealing as a human mate might make you more appealing to a werebear. So much for that.

You’re not one for much dignity as it is, no one to stand on high graces, and you try not to let others’ opinions bother you, beyond where they interfere with your own ability to make your living. But even you can’t bring yourself to try to convince him to mate with you when he so clearly has absolutely no interest. Did you sacrifice what little standing you did have a reasonable and respectable person by volunteering for this only to not even be able to manage it? Was it for nothing?

You had only found the courage to approach him because of the surface-level reason of slaughtered livestock and fear for a person’s injury, but now, now you felt almost responsible for not being able to prevent such an occurrence. All because Temar found you unappealing.

You can’t leave without even saying more than a hasty word to him though. Maybe there’s some other way you can help. You’ve wanted an excuse to get to know him better for years, since you first saw him. Even before that, when someone stopped by your shop with some of the pelts they’d bought from him.

Beyond his attractive appearance being more than enough to draw your attention, he’s lived such an interesting life. The liaison was liberal with his stories and his own accomplishments in the war, but he never short-changed his friend. You also found the stories of people who have crossed him or questioned him entertaining more than scary. His refusal to play along with the petty etiquette of the town was funny, as were people’s puffed up reactions. Perhaps you should have expected this reaction after all, maybe he just doesn’t like humans.

The thought against brings embarrassed heat to your face once more as you remember how he’d looked in the doorway. His beard and mustache, short but full, the scar across his nose, those dark brown eyes. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long in the middle, pulled back into a loose bun and peppered with gray like his beard. Tall as you remember, but stockier—his frame particularly broad in the narrow doorway. You’d always found him especially handsome. There was no question what sort of were he was.

Before today, the closest you’d been was at the general store, behind him line for some flour, putting to rest the rumors that werecreatures only ate meat. His presence had fascinated you, large but contained. Wild but settled. Immovable, but not aggressive. Deliberate. You’d found your mind drifting to thoughts of him that night. Your mind liked to turn the idea of him over, half speculation, half pieced together clues from overheard gossip. When you were particularly lonely or even just particularly cold, it was comforting to know he was on his own too. He seemed to prefer it even. You preferred your solitude most of the time as well—half caught between feeling like an outsider for the inclination, half relieved since that’s where you ended up. You wouldn’t mind another friend who felt so, a bit of company you didn’t need to perform in front of. And it would be nice, to be useful to someone else who had no one.

You know he needs help now, more than ever. The liaison had assured them at the meeting that Temar was making every attempt to contain himself. Which reassured you that you’d not missed a callous trend in his nature, but also made you want to help more—not help with the abstract problem, but help him. The next best solution that had been discussed—and would likely need to be implemented now that it turned out you’d failed, you realize with a sinking heart—was to institute a town wide curfew until this ran its course. But maybe there is still some way you can aid him, even if not by soothing his heat directly.

You stand up straight, pushing off the railing you’d been leaning against, and resolve to at least try to talk to him. After all, you understood his continued solitude, but it felt silly during the meeting, that he wasn’t there to lend his own input. Surely he had the most insight into his situation. He must know what he needed. You raise you hand to knock on the door when it opens before you even get the chance.

“If you ain’t gonna have the sense leave, then get in,” a gruff voice orders.

Your feet are moving before you fully register the words. Relief floods your veins. Well, that was easier than you expected. Perhaps things were turning around.

/

They were not. Any hope you had for some softening of his attitude was quickly dashed.

It had seemed promising: the smell of cooking food, the heat that filled the main room from the large fire, the sound of crackling logs. All ease some of the tension in your bones immediately—not to mention that same deliberate air Temar had, the one that made you feel steady and safe. Safe enough to want what you want, without your usual instinct to hide such thoughts and feelings until you were alone lest others use them to hurt you.

You try to focus on the room itself, from the handmade furniture—you’d have recognized Ben’s work if it was—to the scant decoration. The cabin was simple, unadorned, but solid. It suited him. It made the few personal items he had stick out all the more. The large blanket and rug to make the room feel lived in. The well-cared for hunting gear in the corner. The collection of copper kitchenware, clearly used often.

Nearly as soon as you finished your preliminary survey of his home, he makes it very clear he still did not want you. “No notion of what’s going on in that fool Anton’s head, leaving you on my porch like bottles of milk,” he sighs, looking disgruntled and you fight the urge to apologize. He tucks a strand of hair that escaped his bun behind his ear and your fingers itch to do the same. You clench them tighter behind you, upset at how wild your thoughts are in the face of his rejection. “Fess up, what did they tell you? I don’t know what those old fearmongers at the counsel did to make you come here, but I’ll not hold it against you—only them.”

You tilt your head as you watch him pace over the fire, trying to keep your eyes on his head, not how well he fills out his trousers. You realize belatedly that you must still need to clarify. “There was a town meeting, but I volunteered, like Anton said,” you reply tentatively. He’d heard what his friend said. Right? Maybe that was why he’d refused? Not because he found you so abhorrent.

Temar scoffs. “Anton wouldn’t recognize subtle coercion if it stabbed him the back.”

You frown, starting to get a little frustrated with his seeming inability to hear you properly. “Be that as it may, I can. It’s the truth.”

Temar raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Right,” he says flatly. “Just like five years ago, when I moved here and Miss Ketevan was left on my doorstop around harvest time. She just wanted to offer some apples before high tailing it out of there once her grandfather was out-of-sight. Must have been crying and yelling for some other reason.”

Your frown deepens. The last of your family had died around then and you’d not joined a town meeting for a full year, plenty busy with grief and figuring out how to run the dye shop without any guidance. Keti was a younger than you but had a reputation as a troublemaker so she had been in the gossip plenty. Her grandfather, Carlos, was on the counsel and had seemed to consider her something of an embarrassment.

You thought she’d run off with the milkmaid, not because she was a failed sacrifice to the new werebear neighbor. It does throw into relief some other statements at the meeting. Like Anton’s emphasis on volunteers as he’d stared Carlos’ down, which had led to no one but you speaking up—not even the brothel workers. They’d not said but you knew they feared clients shunning whoever they sent, let alone however they felt about the stigma and fear associated with werecreatures.

 “I have no idea what did or did not happen five years ago, I wasn’t at any of those meetings nor at your house,” you say with a shrug. “Keti’s moved to the other side of the river, according to her sister, and is quite satisfied there. None of which was brought up at the meeting today.”

“What do they have on you?” Temar asks, squatting to stoke the fire, as if you just didn’t want to tell the truth his face. Ignoring everything you were saying while still trying to get answers from you. You liked tell about how stubborn he was in gossip. You liked it less at this moment. “If I can aid you and you can go on home, you’re welcome to ask.”

“They don’t have anything on me,” you reply slowly, trying to match his even tone so he doesn’t think your lying. The embarrassment that comes with volunteering so plainly to mate with him comes and goes in waves, but having to repeat it to him is a different flavor all together. “I am here of my own free will.”

Temar scoffs and huffs. “If you don’t want to tell me then fine.” He heaves himself back to his feet and peers out the window. “Sun’s going down. You can stay here for dinner and for the night. That better satisfy them, because you’re leaving first light in the morning.”

You turn away from his back, staring blindly at the countertop covered in ingredients for dinner. The one you interrupted with this piss-poor intrusion. He was likely just trying to give you an out, an excuse to save some dignity. You should’ve known you’d have no skill at seduction, not that you’d believed you’d need it. You’d hoped he be satisfied enough, in need enough that you’d suffice by being willing and not unattractive. Or so you thought. How pathetic. “I just wanted to help,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

You sigh before walking over to the counter and picking up a knife. “Thank you for your hospitality,” you manage, your voice stiff with discomfort, but unwilling to completely give up yet. “Allow me to assist with the food.”

Dinner preparation is tense, quiet, but a relatively smooth affair. Temar’s already got the chicken dumplings nearly done so you leave that to him and handle the rest.

He only speaks to point you toward where things are when you ask. You’re happy he’s letting you do this much as you’ve more than got the message he’d prefer to do it all alone. You try to concentrate hard enough not to think about anything else.

“These dumplings are delicious,” you say belatedly, after you’ve already scarfed down two of them. They really are, hot and flavorful.

Temar grunts in response and you can’t help but pout, wondering if he thinks everything you say is a lie. You try at some other small talk, but nothing gets more than a yes or no out of him—after the first few, he just makes some vague noise of acknowledgment as he steadily eats through three times the portion of food you got, which had been more than generous. You’d been skeptical of how much he was making until you’d seen how much he was eating.

Did he also have to eat more before winter, like a normal bear? Was he going to sleep through it too? You swear he still came in with pelts, but you don’t really know. You’re more than aware that he’s not likely to give a straight answer if you ask. You ask anyway.

He gives you a look like you’re touched in the head. “No, I don’t hibernate. I stay in more, sleep more since its dark more, but I’m not actually a bear.”

“I know!” you protest, blushing, “but I’ve heard there’s overlap of some kind, forgive me for not being an expert. You’re the only werebear I know by name.”

“You know nothing,” he retorts, words finally bursting from him in a fit of frustration. You’re taken aback, but eager for any information given his recent impression of a clam. “You say you volunteer and yet you don’t know the first thing about werebears, let alone heats. You expect me to think you know what you’re saying you got yourself into when its clear no one explained anything.”

“Well, then you tell me,” you bat back, fed up by now with being treated as a criminal for even entertaining the notion you might be a suitable mate for him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have called me a liar even if I’d written a book on werebears and their heats.”

As his way seems to be, he ignores you to keep focus on whatever incorrect train of thought he has stuck in his head. “Even if you’re ignorant, didn’t your family object? Doesn’t someone have sense or self-preservation?”

You glare. Of all the—. “No—” you reply hotly before he cuts in.

“I thought that was something y’all paid attention to,” he drawls, waving with his fork. “ Fraternizing with the werecreatures is still a no-no right?” He leans forward, eyes bright, like a predator finally spotting their prey. “Is it them that the council is leaning on?”

Unfortunately for him, its a false sighting. “Don’t have any,” you reply bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “They died. About five years ago.”

You wonder if he’ll make the connection and to your surprise, he seems to as his brow furrows. “I see.” He leans back in his chair as if surrpised to notice he’d moved at all.

“Besides, I’m grown,” you’re annoyed you even have to remind him. He’s treating you like a child, ignoring you, calling you ignorant, making you out as a liar. Like a fool. You’ve long resolved not to let anyone treat you like a fool. “I make my own choices.”

He scoffs in that same manner that’s truly getting under your skin. “Right. How could I forget.”

“I don’t know,” your voice is sharper than its been all evening. “Seeing as I keep reminding you.”

Discomfort creeps into his frame and he looks down at his plate to mutter, “What even made them come up with this plan? Was this Anton’s idea?” He warms up to this new wrong idea—it was Jessaly on the council who had mentioned “heat soothers” seconded by Carlos. Anton only stepped in to mention volunteers. “Because if so, I’ll be having words with him next chance I get, strong words. I anticipated an order to leave town or to be taken to jail or a fight. I’m surprised the council even risked the chance for cubs.”

That last part completely derails you from your planned support for Anton. “Oh,” you can dismiss that concern easy, so you don’t hesitate to, “I can’t have children.”

That stops him completely, freezes him in his chair. “What?”

His reaction surprises you. “I thought…” You thought he could smell the infertility on you. You thought that was part of why he’d refused, like the others. If he couldn’t tell, you still didn’t think he’d have a reaction like this, like everyone else. “I can’t. My monthlies stopped only a few years in and a doctor confirmed the nature of the issue. It’s noted in the records because my engagement to—” You don’t even want to say his name, for all you don’t blame your former fiance. You hadn’t even been that excited about the marriage, but the reality of no marriage ever, well, that had been more of blow the coming years dealt to you. You manage a shaky smile. “No risk of children with me.”

You meet his eyes valiantly and he stares back. You hope you’re right when you don’t see any blooming realization that you’re broken, that you’re any more undesirable, but you’ve long given up trying to tell. Still his focus makes you babble, “I don’t want children anyway.” That at least is the truth and the reminder steadies you. You thought you’d gotten over the worst of this self-recrimination years ago. You were happy not to have that burden, that expectation, that danger in your life. You just want Temar to think well of you, and this always changes how people perceive you, no matter how much you wish it didn’t. That is what truly gets under your skin. Your shoulders drop some tension as your smile softens, becomes more genuine. “Better me than someone who did. It worked out for the best that way.”

If only it meant no partner, no chance for sex beyond work at the brothel—which you were not interested in despite them asking—or  visiting one, which you have in years past. Or the affairs some of the less reputable had tried for in the past. They always made it clear in the end, even if you were alright with the infidelity—it was only because you were ‘safe’ that they wanted you.

“Neither do I,” he says, causing you to look up at him. His expression turns defensive as he clarifies, “That doesn’t mean anything anyways. Still the most foolish idea I ever heard.” He stands up abruptly to refill his plate with a fourth helping.

You eat the remainder of the meal in silence.

Finally, your plate is clean and your belly is full. You manage to take Temar by surprise by snatching up his plate in addition to yours, bringing them over to the wash basin before he could do some himself. You’re determined to do something useful while you’re here and he’s feeding you.

Maybe all lack of eye contact was for him and not you. Maybe you’ll have better luck staring at the water. “So, is there anything you’ll actually let me do to help?”

Another huff, almost a growl of frustration, and Temar replies, grit in his tone, “I told you I ain’t taking a mate just because the town’s made my heat their business this year.”

You don’t even bother arguing the point again and consider his words. You hadn’t thought about other years. There’d never been notice of it so you assumed it wasn’t actually an annual event. What made this year so different? Instead of asking, you return his own volley. “I heard you. I didn’t mean that, though I must mention that the town is only involved because it has become their business this year.”

Temar doesn’t answer, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Being the focus of his attention is electrifying. “Other than having a mate,” you remind yourself outloud. “Are there other things that I can help with? Measures to be taken, information to be shared. Anything?”

There’s silence behind you before he stands up from the table, the scrape of his chair loud. You hope to the gods he’s actually doing something, thought of something in response to your question rather than just leaving. Although technically, you suppose, that would also be a response to your question.

You methodically scrub the dishes while you listen to him move about the main room of the cabin. He sits back down at the table, bringing something with him. You can’t dry this tankard any more thoroughly so you turn around to see if he’s simply ignoring you or not.

He’s bent over something on the table, a piece of paper? You frown and walk over to get a closer look. As if he can sense you, once you’re close enough he points one thick finger at the paper. “Who’s land is this?”

You frown as you study what you realize is a map of the town. Unlike most you’ve seen, it doesn’t have roads or even real buildings on it. Abstract symbols represent structures—you think—and the town center and main street buildings are one big marker. Nothing indicated for individual stores. It takes another minute to realize the outlined shapes covering the map are the property lines, not buildings, roads, or rivers, though some overlap with where you know those to be. Leave it to a werebear to have a map of the town by territory.

“If you don’t know—” he says, huffing per usual.

“Apologies if I need more than a minute,” you huff back, more than fed up and far more assured after the time spent with him that he has no plans to kick you out tonight. “I’ve never seen a map like this.”

He quiets down and you manage to follow your memory of the road out to… “The Meskal’s Farm, Evanna and Leon.” You also manage to make the connection, although you’re not sure he meant for you to. They’d been the most recent farm that had suffered from slaughtered livestock.

Temar brings over a slate with some notes in chalk already written out. He’s got shorthand notes, similar to those on the map, but all unlike any you’ve seen before. He jots down what must be their name above some already existing notes. You squint, trying to make sense of the letters and numbers. “Two ewes and one lamb,” you correct, hoping you decoded right.

He freezes and you hold your breath for annoyance or anger, but instead he merely erases one number and writes in another. “I assume this was discussed with the council?”

“Yeah,” you see no reason to beat around the bush. As you continue to squint at his notes, leaning over his broad shoulder to see better. “The Oche’s steer had to be put down, but they salvaged the meat. Anton reassured them it was edible and bought some himself so the rest of the town followed suit.”

“Still, I’ll be paying my debt, it just might take some time,” Temar replies gravely. “I’ll not have anyone say I don’t pay what I owe or think I don’t owe it, like some uncivilized beast.”

“I can pass that along,” you offer, still reaching for some way to contribute, to help. His integrity touches your heart, makes that urge to give aid stronger. Anton had something vague to the affect, but the town had little confidence in Anton’s assurances. You have confidence in Temar’s.

“I would appreciate that,” he sounds a little belligerent, a little abashed.

You smile, happy to have found anything useful to do and lean in again, to study his map more closely. You mentally map out the other families who had damage and notice they’re all in a line from his property west and against the forest. He does seem to be attempting to keep to limited area. How much control does he have? Could you help corral him somehow?

You reach to point. “Is this the river or—” You start to lose you balance from the awkward angle you’re at. Your other hand reaches for the next closest thing to steady yourself—Temar’s shoulder.

Next thing you know you’re knocking into the table and he’s standing several feet away, a snarl on his face. “Don’t.”

You’re stricken by the vehemence from a such a small, almost-touch of his person. It had been too easy to forget he disliked you so, is so offended by your very presence. “I’m sorry!” It’s as if he thinks you were attempting to trick him. You hasten to clarify, hands raised in surrender. “I wasn’t trying—”

Temar leaves the room before you even finish speaking.

/

Temar braces himself before he goes back in the main room, his forehead pressed against the solid wood of his walls.

He’s hoping he’s gotten used to your scent, built up a tolerance, but knows it’ll only have gotten stronger for each moment you’ve been here. Gods know he’s only become more susceptible to it. How anyone in all his life has such a bewitching scent, he’ll never know.

The second he’d opened his front door, he’d wanted to drag you inside and never let you out. The beast inside instantly proclaiming Mine. Only mine. He’d barely heard anything Anton said over the roaring in his ears. The slam of his door had been as much panic defensiveness as it had been frustrated aggression.

The line between those two does seem to blur most during heat.

You stayed out there, looking so lost and somber on the porch, lip caught between your teeth as you thought. He’d had to get you to stop before he took over the task for you. An early sign of heat madness surely because of fucking course it was far worse having you in his home. Where his beast said you belonged. Where you could say all the words he was salivating to hear as truth even though he knew them to be false.

Those council assholes would pay for putting him through this torture. Temar knew he was a werebeast and yet this was inhumane even for his kind. He tried to find a proper target for his aggression, but you’d given him nothing to work with, persistent in your tale. As if a kind, quick-witted, pretty thing like you would ever subject yourself to a beast like him unless you felt you had no other option.

Distractions haven’t been helping, trying to keep his eyes off you was impossible to sustain, and stonewalling didn’t ever seem to deter you for long. It’s as if you were perfectly designed to get past all of his defenses. There are still so many hours until sunrise—if Temar’s even going to last that long, even be able to let you go at that point. After you’d seeped into his home, his life. You seem to fit so well.

You play at being kind like a master actor and he hopes that’s not all a front. You’re smart, independent, but oh so willing to help. Duress, he reminds himself, you’re here under duress. The fuckers in town must have forced you here somehow. He can’t believe how low they’ve stooped, taking advantage of your lack of family, of your infertility to make you into a sacrifice. The perfect sacrifice.

His beast still wants to try to breed you, undeterred by logic, but it’s his human head that’s unfairly tempted by the knowledge. When he’s in his rational mind, he stands by what he said. The risk of children, others with his condition, his ostracization from society is something he’d never condemn an innocent soul to suffer. Not mention he likes his solitude, likes only being responsible for himself and only answerable to himself. It’s why the council involving itself is so frustrating. Its why the idea you might be here of your own free will is so appealing. Lack of such a child-bearing risk is even more appealing, more alluring than he’d ever realized it would be. Than it had any right to be. Why are you so damn perfect for him?

Clearly distance was not helping. Perhaps it was even making his beast stronger, without you to look at him and, for all your knowledge of his nature, expect a rationale man to look back.

Temar walks back into the main room, feeling like a man condemned, only to immediately regret his choice as he rigidly locks every muscle he can to prevent his beast from pouncing. He’d thought you’d stopped trying to seduce him with your faux willingness and pretty eyes. Your soft, steady kindness…

Even he’d admitted to himself once alone that you likely hadn’t meant anything by hovering so close, by trying to steady yourself on him. Your fall onto the table, not to mention the complete startlement on your face from his reaction. But what the fuck is this?

“What are you doing?” he asks through clenched teeth, hoping the beast inside isn’t giving away the feral lust coursing through his veins.

“What?” You look up, surprised he’s back, but there’s no embarrassment in your face. If anything, your expression smooths back to usual faster than he feels it has a right to. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how wet my apron had gotten from the dishes, sorry about the wasted water.”

“Why have you removed it?” Temar’s voice was strangled as the words passed through his lips. Ordinarily, he knows it would barely register with him, but you removing any article of clothing has his beast pulling at the chains he’s trying to use to keep it inside where it belongs.

“Well, I didn’t know how else to dry off,” you reply, brow furrowing in confusion as you dab at yourself with part of the folded-up apron. Temar can see the damp stains where the water had soaked through the light green fabric underneath. “Besides, I don’t want to catch anything, sitting around in wet clothes. It’ll be dry by morning if I leave it by the fire.”

Temar’s mind is already overrun by the reminder he’d invited you, like the numbskull he is, to stay the night. You’re unlikely to sleep fully dressed. You’ll take more than just your apron off in his home. You’ll strip down to your chemise. He can see the edges of it under your dress—white cotton poking out. Nothing more under that except soft skin—skin he isn’t allowed to touch.

Temar tries to combat the pleasing images of you splayed naked in his bed with images of your bruised and bloody from his claws, his strength, his carelessness. They’re impossible to sustain with you so hale and unbothered in front of him. The comfort of his den discourages such violence from his thoughts, his heat poisoning his mind against him. You aren’t here by choice, he reminds himself.

It’s hard to believe when you cross his room with self-assured confidence, bending down to arrange your apron by his fire, acting as if you’ve no fears to worry you. Your hair is ruffled from either the dishes or taking off your apron and you pat at it absentmindedly. Temar wants it spread across his sheets, his pillow, mussed and messed by his hands while he claims you for himself. The town clearly doesn’t appreciate you, doesn’t value you what they have. He’d treat you right. He’d make sure you loved being his.

With a shake of his head, he blinks and the image before him resolves to you seated on a chair, delicately rebraiding your hair. He can’t keep his eyes off the swift movements of your fingers. Temar imagines what it would feel like if you did the same to him, this simple careful, everyday task. You look up at him from under your full eyelashes, looking perfectly innocent and not a creature pulled from his greatest nightmares and most sincere dreams. “So do you have a plan for managing however many days are left? Have you gone into heat in previous years? How did you manage then?”

The flush that blooms on your face is endearing and attractive. Temar wants desperately to know what you’re thinking when you say ‘heat’. You’ve avoided saying the word nearly the entire time you’ve been heard. Temar knows the rumors that fly about the human population about werebeasts, about heats, he’s overheard it all. From eating human mates to potent fertility and everything in between. Which ones have you heard? Which do you believe in? Likely none of the violent ones or you’d find the prospect far more intimidating than whatever bullshit the council is using to coerce you.

“Temar?”

“You’re right, I’ve already managed to work out a solution on my own, making you presence doubly wasteful.” You flinch at his words and every instinct screams at him to sooth you, to take it back—whatever is needed to make his mate stay. Temar turns rather than continue to watch your reactions to his harsh words. Despite knowing its necessary, it hurts to see your hurt and only encourages the beast to want to soothe, to steal your mind from any hurt by drowning it out with lust and heat. “Follow me.”

“You’ll sleep here,” Temar points out, continuing to refuse to look back at you or his bed for that matter.

His control would surely shatter if he saw you so close to it. He imagines how easily he could push you down on the furs and sheets until he had you spread out like a feast for him and him alone. How he would savor you. How he wouldn’t let you up until he was more than satisfied. A glutton of lust.

The cold metal of the door knob jolts him out of his thoughts. “I’ll be out back.” The crisp air, the brisk breeze, blow your scent from Temar and clear his head. He nearly sighs with relief as he walks off to the right, purpose in his steps, a reminder of his duty as he follows the familiar path.

“Here.” Its clear no matter where you thought he was leading you “pit” was not on the list. Your eyebrows lift nearly to your hairline as you stare down, allowing him precious seconds to gaze at you without a mask of stoicism or frustration, only naked hunger.

“You asked where I weathered heats of the past?” Temar neglects to mention that the first couple years in town rendered his heats short and taxing. Just a handful of nights around the late summer full moon, when the first chill to the air heralding the coming winter. Between his beast’s discomfort with new territory and his own war memories haunting him, his heats were not a concern. It’s only last year that his heat was how it used to be in his youth.

Wild. Hungry. Enduring.

This year is worst yet, not only because of the tight grip it has on him and how he can tell, despite more than a week in, that he has days to go, but also due circumstances outside of his control.

You’re smart enough to spot it. “Did something happen to this…?”

Temar puts you out of your awkward misery. “There was a flood after that storm a couple weeks ago. It dislodged that tree and a wall collapsed.” He’d hoped his heat wouldn’t return with the vengeance it did and so had put off excavating. “In the end, the den took longer than I thought to rebuild, to dig deep enough again. Still not sure I have,” he confesses when you look at him with such open, receptive eyes.

You frown and squint down at the den and Temar doesn’t like the reminder of how dark it’s getting. This entire evening has been a distraction, from the knock on his door, to the meal, to now. He ought not neglect the den any longer, not let his beast draw this out until it can overpower his conscience.

He puts down the ladder, hands grateful for something to do besides itch to settle on your hips. “I’ll be needing to get everything out of here, before the moon finishes rising.” Temar descends as quickly as he can, jumping the last few feet and turning to survey the den.

It was nicer before, he thinks with some dismay, some shame at you seeing such a bare hole in the ground. It’s primarily filled with tools for digging and fortifying, none of the minimal furs and blankets that should be givens for a den. The roof had been damaged when the tree fell in so he hopes it doesn’t rain. Temar resigns himself to waking up covered in dew. It’ll still be better than waking up covered in blood, even after verifying it was all from livestock.

“Temar?” His name on your lips draws his attention back up, like a flower to the sun, like a fish to water, like blood to a bear.

“Can I help you clear it out?” Temar just stares at you, part of his mind still surprised you’re here. Still here. Still offering to help. Help him. You cross your arms again and Temar wishes it didn’t look so good on you, the way it pushes up your chest, makes your arm muscles more prominent. What sort of shop did you say you had again? “Look, I’m another pair of hands, ain’t I?”

“Technically,” he allows, speaking without thinking. All his thought concentrated on your form above him, ripe for the plucking.

You seem to take that as permission and start climbing down the ladder. Temar turns so quickly to avert his eyes from your ass that he forgets to forbid you from coming down. You touch down lightly and Temar reluctantly faces you again, a puppet on the strings of his inner beast, to soak in the sight of you in its den.

The cabin belongs to Temar, the man. The den belongs to Temar, the beast.

Something of that must come across on his face as you pause, one hand on the ladder. “Does it break a rule, for me to be down here?”

A den is a personal, sacred space, with only those closest allowed entry. The beast does not allow you to lie. “No.” A prospective mate is more than a natural allowance. It’s expected.

You nod with satisfaction. The beast preens in approval at your persistence, at your ease in its den. “Then I’m helping. What’s next?”

Wordlessly, you point to the table with the hand tools.

“All of these?” you ask, even as you begin to gather them.

Temar turns away, unable to watch you ascend, and focuses on the final wheelbarrow he needs to move out, the planks he’s using as ramps he’ll need to remove. “Gotta get everything out of here so it don’t get broken.” Also so he can’t use it to escape. When he’s more beast than person, the use of tools doesn’t come naturally, but he’s relentless. Safer to keep them out of reach. That’s the real challenge—keep himself out of reach.

“Right.” There’s a pause while you move around behind him. Temar tries to focus on the feeling of the smooth wood of the wheelbarrow handles, the shudder of the wooden planks below as he moves it out of the den. “How come the walls are like this?”

You must be gesturing to the flat stones embedded in the dirt walls. “Harder to climb, although I haven’t had time to finish the back wall that collapsed yet. Claws don’t do well on smooth stone. A lot if the grout needs to be redone. Something for tomorrow.”

“Smart,” you say, sounding impressed.

Temar grunts in response, trying to focus on pulling the crude ramp out of the den and not on puffing up at your approval. Not seeing how else he might earn your esteem, might otherwise impress you.

“What’s it like,” you ask, quietly but clearly. Temar had been wondering if you’d ask. Waiting. “When…”

You trail off so he’s not sure if you meaning being a werebear or being one in heat. He supposes the answer isn’t terribly different. “Simpler, harsher, more vivid,” he says, “Less control when in heat than the rest of the time. In the army, we were trained to control the transformation, taught how to keep our minds more intact—it doesn’t work like that for heat. Getting locked up is how it was dealt with even there.” Not that they lasted long back then for anyone.

“I’ve heard of the loss of control.” You don’t specify if you mean in general or in heat, but Temar supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

Perhaps this would be a good time to remind both of you what’s at stake, how dangerous Temar is in heat to anyone vulnerable around him. “Just a beast at that point.” Temar doesn’t look you in the eye as he keeps talking, heading back down into the den now the planks are out and it’s the only way down. “Can’t understand human speech. Can barely tell human from animal. No reasoning with me. I’ll do what I want when I want to. Damn anyone else.”

Not that you’re as intimidated as he wishes you were. “What about other weres?”

“Aye.” Temar doesn’t mind confirming that, not when he knows it can’t encourage you. “Thats a mite different. We can handle each other better, can find that sliver of common ground. Family can calm you, your own territory, and of course, if you’ve got everything you want, you won’t go roaming for it. Won’t get angry and frustrated you can’t find it.”

“That all the time, or just in heat?” He can still hear the shyness in your voice whenever you say heat, but its obvious your curiosity is too great. Temar surveys the den while he considers his answer, hands you left over plates and cutlery from his noontime meal, eaten down in the den while he worked furiously to get it ready for tonight. He’s careful not to let his fingers brush yours, not to look you in the face, lest he see some fear there that hadn’t been before. Lest the beast see a lack of such fear. Temar truly felt caught between a rock and hard place.

He can see the question you’re dancing around and cuts to the quick, praying you’ll be sensible and leave since he wouldn’t be able to make you anymore. He’s not sure he even could back on the porch. “Its dangerous for any human to lay with a werebeast. Injury from strength or claws or teeth is impossible to prevent. Even if you’re mates.” He reminds himself as ruthlessly as tells you. It was rare, but it happened. Heartbreaking accidents. “Even if you’ve known each other for years. Someone in my troop had killed their husband in a heat frenzy once.”

“Not always though,” you reply, too hopeful by far, too logical not to notice the exaggeration. “It can’t be or weres would have died out.”

“No, not always,” Temar allows. “The tendency towards multiple children in a litter helps. But usually longer held relationships fare better. If the were isn’t in a bad mood, isn’t stressed—if the partner cooperates right.”

He hands you the last item that needs out and once you get to the top, he says, “Pull up that ladder, now.”

You pause, standing stock still and for a second he wonders if you’ll even listen. Temar’s not sure he has the strength to ask a second time.

“Sure.” You pull up the ladder.

His human mind eases at that, at the sight of you more than seven feet overhead, out of reach. His beast disagrees, seething in displeasure and unfulfilled lust. Naturally, you can’t leave well enough alone and sit down, legs dangling into the den. He knows he could grab your ankle at this, yank you down and—

Temar turns to study the den once more. It won’t stick in his mind with you clouding his judgment the way you are. He narrows his eyes, forcing himself to assess if its deep enough, the walls defended enough. “I still need to get the cover fixed, if that damn blacksmith ever manages to be around when I stop by. The back wall needs to be stoned, but if I try to climb it like it is, it’s just as likely to crumble which’ll keep me in just the same. It’ll do. It had better more than satisfy those bastards on the council.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose it will.” You shrug, as if you’d forgotten about them. “Will you let me visit? After I leave in the morning—” you add swiftly as if to cut off a correction Temar for once wasn’t offering. “In case there’s anything else I can help with? I meant it when I said we could help each other out. I admit I do not relish the chore of fetching all fuel for my fire in these coming months and perhaps I can provide something for you? I’m a skilled weaver in addition to my work with dyes. If you would not be opposed?”

How can you forget the council so easily? Dismiss them offhand like that. Why do you speak of ‘after’ so lightly? As if you expect to see him again, as if that’s something you might want. Temar’s thoughts turn in circles once more over your duress. He must remember you cannot be here by choice. It’s getting harder by the minute. By each minute you sit on the edge of his den, not a care in the world. Not a notion of his steadily deteriorating self-control. His lack of giving any indication of his growing need has gone from helpful to sinister, a wolf in sheep’s clothing no longer trying to reassure, but to lure closer its prey.

“Perhaps,” he manages to say.

You continue to talk, but the words’ meaning slip through his fingers. The change is pushing itself on him while he wiles away a few more minutes in your presence. Just to try to burn off excess energy, Temar turns to push one of the stones in better, to align it flat with the rest of them. Except… he can feel your eyes on his back while he does so.

Your scent to spikes.

He wheels around, wildly, and belated realizes the height you’re at, brings your loins far more to a height with his nose than ever before. Did his display of strength inspire something of lust in you? His beast roars for you once more at this indication of receptiveness.

The moonlight colors your hair, emphasizing your etherealness, the wonder at your very presence. How much Temar wants to hold you in his hands, claim you for his own. How much he wants to bring you down to earth, push you under him and take his pleasure from you.

He takes a step closer and it feels like the first sprung leak in a dam. The first domino to fall. The spark of fire on dry, dry tinder.

“R-un.”

In retrospect perhaps the most provocative thing Temar could have done was instigate a chase. Actually, the most provocative was definitely you listening and running.

You pull your legs up swiftly, battling your skirts to get your feet under yourself with a haste that surprises even yourself. Only one word and a glimpse of those glowing eyes, and you’re dashing for the cabin. Adrenaline pours into your veins as you the image of the fur rippling out over Temar’s body as he gave that last command fills your mind. 

In retrospect, the fur had been spreading steadily since you’d taken away the ladder without you fully registering it. His voice had been changing, although that you’d noticed plenty. The lower tone was a little harder to make out, even more pleasant to listen to, stirring up those lascivious thoughts that hadn’t left your mind since the town meeting was called. You swear his muscles had swelled too. The way they had moved beneath his shirt, which fit tighter with each minute that had passed. You’d felt spellbound, even though you swear that’s not a rumor associated with weres, and unconcerned by said compulsion.

Given the seriousness with which Temar gave the order as well as his earlier apprehension, you feel guilty for the mad sort of excitement rather than fear that courses through you. A roar, harsh and throaty, comes from the den behind you. It's one of rage and frustration. A beast that’s just realized it's been trapped. That it can’t get to what it wants. A loud thud follows. A growl of continued frustration hurries you on, feet pounding the ground as you run. You can almost trick yourself into thinking you hear your own name mixed in with the next roar that comes from where you’ve left Temar behind.

Due to your haste and unfamiliarity with Temar’s land and the fallen gloom, you end up missing the door along the back of the cabin and re-enter through the front. You lock that door with shaking hands and a pounding heart. The sounds of nature, of wind, of the echoes of Temar’s growl, are replaced by quiet solitude and the crackle of the fire, still burning in the hearth. You attempt to catch your breath. You try to let the mundane familiarity of the cabin and the silence calm your nerves. It’s not working very well.

You’re not sure what prompted his yell or his roar. Temar had said if he had everything he needed, he wouldn’t want to go searching for it, so it must have been his inner beast’s continued frustration at the lack of a desirable mate, which you continue to attempt not to take personally.

You’re still keyed up from the experience and seeing him actually start to transform, which still held some magic to you having never witnessed such a thing before, as well as all your interactions with him this evening. Temar seemed somewhat open to the idea of being friends, which was nice, you remind yourself. He is still immensely fascinating to you—this night has only made that more apparent. He feels less onerous to be around than some of your other acquaintances. He doesn’t put up any fronts and you feel like you don’t have to either. Even when he was clearly frustrated or angry—which you believe is exacerbated by whatever physical and mental toll his heat is putting on him—he never raised his voice. Temar only ever physically moved away from you, not towards you. 

Speaking of physicality, he was so strong. The way he moved, carried, and shoved the tools out of his den had been impressive. The skill and strength it must have taken to make it in the first place, from the manual labor of digging it out, to stonework, to the manner of transportation in and out were all impressive. You’ll have to make sure to stop by Nicolas’ forge tomorrow to ensure Temar can get his roof fixed. But for now, your mind’s eye lingers on how his muscles had flexed, how easily he might be able to move you about, lifting you, arranging you to best please him.

You shake your head to try to rid yourself of such thoughts when none of them are going to come true. Temar is the one who’s having a hard time, not you here in his home. He hadn’t complained about the den, but you can tell it must be a far cry from what it was before the damage, it saddens you to think of him out there and alone. You long to comfort him, even though you know he doesn’t want your comfort. His roar had only proven his frustration and unhappiness, how unfulfilled he must be, stuck in the pit. You swear you can still hear yet another roar mixed with your name. 

You take another look around the room and sigh, finding it far less interesting without him present. You’re still wound up from today’s jostling ship ride of events. Your hormones are out of balance after plans and hopes of helping Temar through his heat. While ending your night alone in Temar’s cabin, in his bed, while he’s stuck out in a hole in the ground isn’t where you expected or how you wanted the night to end, you suppose it's better than him still out in the woods where he might cause more damage or hurt someone.

Your hands go to your buttons as you start to undo them. An early night is in order. Just because Temar doesn’t want you, doesn’t mean you have to go unsatisfied. Your outer clothing drops to the floor, leaving you in your underthings. Draping the cloth over the couch, you wonder if he might be able to smell what you get up to in the morning. Would it be cruel to leave such a trace behind? you wonder as you slip over to the bedroom door. Or would it be your due after his refusal?

Something to worry about in the morning. You’re too hot and bothered to care much now. You turn the knob and enter the dark room. Your eyes just barely adjust enough to make out the outline of his large bed of furs when you’re pushed back against the door, slamming it shut. 

An almost subsonic growl fills the small room as you look up and up to meet glowing yellow-green eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, even faster than it had when you’d been running only a few moments ago. A cloud moves from in front of the full moon and the beast that Temar must be now looms over you.

Heavy hands—or are they paws now?—pin you to the wall, one spread over your sternum and the other engulfing your hip. Your hands reflexively reach out and curl around his arm, fingers sinking into dense, soft fur. With the hand pressing against your chest, you barely manage to make a sound more than a surprised inhale, anything else compressed by Temar’s savage strength and your own shock. 

Fight or flight seems to have tried to kick in only to unexpectedly leave you both at ‘freeze’ while you stare one another down. The moonlight illuminates his face, throwing into relief the complex mix of man and beast Temar now is. The same black salted with gray that had been evident in his beard is now more evident in the thin layer of fur covering his face. His jaw is larger to accommodate the sharp teeth and prominent fangs now present. His mouth is open as he pants and huffs, eyes fixated on you. You can still see the man in the beast, but he’s more than he was only moments ago.

You hold perfectly still as Temar leans down and starts to huff and sniff at your neck, shifting his fingers as he does so. You can feel his claws snag in the looser weave of your chemise as he does so. Has he always smelled like the forest? you think in a shocked haze, like the pine trees and the freshly turned earth with an undercurrent of musk. He growls into your neck while you stay pinned like an insect on a card, unable to do anything else when confronted by the reality of his transformed appearance, of his touch when he had recoiled from you so vehemently before.

You jolt when he manages to do more than growl, when you realize it isn’t your imagination that puts your name on his lips. Heat sears through you to hear the need in his voice, the demand, by the idea that you’ve managed to make such an impression on him that he managed to speak at all. Then those lips cover your own in an uncoordinated but wanting kiss. Instantly, your mind is wiped clean of rejection, and disinterest, and undesirability. Those ideas can’t exist in tandem when he kisses you like he’s starving. 

When you break apart, you breathlessly gasp out his name, a hand cupping his jaw. You suck in shallow breaths, as if you only just stopped running, as if he’d been chasing you since he’d told you to run. You tremble with shameless lust at being sought after specifically—he hadn’t just been demanding after vague wants but for you.

He manages your name once more, tongue and jaw and teeth making the word hard to understand except that all your senses are straining for him, desperate for anything to help you understand him, to understand this change. “Mate.” 

You don’t know if it's a question or not, but it's all you’ve been offering since you first showed up on his doorstep. “Yes,” you reply breathlessly, suddenly more desperate than ever in his hold. Desire burns through you for him. You tug futilely at his jaw, push desperately against the massive paw on your chest to reach him. “Temar. Mate.”

You don’t fool yourself into thinking your strength is what moves him, but perhaps your words do manage to penetrate his mind because he presses his lips to yours once more, immediately deepening the kiss. He fucks into your mouth with filthy promise. Your head is held between the door at your back and him, hot and massive, crowding you, boxing you in, cutting off any escape. Escape is the absolute furthest thing from your mind.

His grip on you strengthens, the hand on your sternum moving to bracket your neck. His thumb rests lightly against the column of your throat, the claw drawing a line of danger on your collarbone. His fingers hooked over your back, their claws digging into the meat of your shoulder. They haven’t broken your skin but you know they could, the sting of them makes you want to arch both away and into them. 

You tremble as you realize how securely and sinfully caught you are by this werebear, by Temar. You know that he could hold onto you like this for hours and nothing you could do would be able to force him to let go. You never want him to. Instead you melt in his hold. His hand pinning you by your hip is likely the only thing keeping you on your feet and not just a pool of lust at his.

His need is evident given the way his hips rock against your own. The press of him against your whole body is unlocking some hidden need in you and you attempt to push back, to rut against him in return. You feel desperation growing in your bones, in the heart of you, something wild and wanting that can only be sated by him. Temar rumbles his approval, moving more deliberately against you until a growl of frustration escapes him.

When he pulls back, readjusting his hold on you, you open your mouth to protest, to say something, anything to get him back. It’s reflexive after how this night has gone, but unnecessary now. Temar picks you up with no apparent effort, only impatience, and tosses you onto the bed. 

You land with an oof, scrambling to think around the rolling heat that moves through your body threatening to drown you at such a display. You’ve barely made any sense of yourself after being flung through the darkness when he’s dropped low and moved on top of you. His movements are strong and decisive as he pushes your chemise up. He noses his way between your thighs, spreading them apart to make room for him. You barely have time to consider being embarrassed about being exposed, at how wet you know you are, when his wide tongue, inhuman roughness obvious, covers your cunt.

Your yelp of surprise turns into a long drawn out moan as he licks at you, vigorously, hungrily. He places a massive hand on each of your thighs, claws stinging just enough to quicken the pulsing need between your legs. You twitch and shiver as he pushes your legs further apart to accommodate his bulk. Your heated skin finds the remaining fabric bunched around your waist too much and you hastily try to shuck it the rest of the way off as fast as you. It's the most uncoordinated you’ve ever felt due to the manner in which Temar is concentrating on sucking your mind out of your head via your cunt.

Free at last of the uncomfortable and restricting garment, you reach down, fingers threading into Temar’s wild mane of hair on instinct alone. You don’t kow if you’ve even stopped moaning since his tongue attached itself to your cunt. Simultaneously, it's too much and not enough and all you can do is try to hang on for the ride he’s determined to take you on. Sweeping you down into the heat of feral lust with him. 

One of his hands leaves your thigh to clamp down across your stomach and hold down your hips. Your fingers tighten as he holds you in place to take what he wants from you. His unwavering focus is on eating you out, so starving for you that for now even the beast is content with your taste, leaving his hips rutting against the bedding. 

Temar wrings sounds from you know you’ve never made before. You never want anyone else to even try. Fuck, so good, you think. Or maybe you say aloud because you swear he grunts his approval and his tongue somehow manages to reach deeper. 

The black pad of his thumb rubs your clit perfectly and you scream you shatter. He growls triumphantly as he greedily drinks down every last drop of your release

You feel unspooled and languid, molten in your pleasure. Temar too seems satisfied with the meal he’s made of you for now as he pulls back, licking his lips. His fingers tighten their hold on your hips as your only warning before he flips you over. Dazedly, automatically, you try to brace yourself. He grunts in approval at how he has successfully maneuvered you onto your hands and knees. Right where you wanted to be ever since you first understood that he was in heat without a lover. Since you realized you wanted to be that lover.

One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke up your spine and you shudder at the feeling of calluses, iron strength, and claws. Instinctively, you arch into the motion, wanting to encourage him to touch you as much as possible. You’re so grateful you’ve already tossed your chemise gods know where. “Please,” you gasp out.

He rumbles with approval and as if having heard your unarticulated thoughts, drapes himself further over you. He pulls you against the cradle of his hips with one firm motion eliciting a squeal from your lips. It's evidently not close enough, as he wraps his fingers around your shoulder and pulls again until he can rut his cock against where you feel oh so empty. 

With you where he wants you, Temar releases his hold on your shoulder to lurch you both forward, him bracing you both with that hand on the bed. It leaves you clearly trapped under him. You close your eyes to savor the position and you’re struck by the image you two would paint, were you able to see. Perhaps that should be more intimidating or even frightening than it is, but you like the heavy weight of him, the power evident in his body as he cages you in. 

The ache between your legs only grows more acute. “Temar,” you plead, attempting to move your hips against him despite the hold he still has on one of your hips. The gnawing hunger and persistent emptiness are starting to hurt, desire buzzing along your every nerve. 

“Mine,” Temar proclaims as the head of his cock finally catches perfectly and he starts to drive into you. The stretch and ache of him causes your moan to fracture under the strain. It’s been so long, but you're so wet it almost doesn’t matter. He’s so thick, so long, you’re losing all sense of anything outside of where the two of you are joined. The last few inches cause a pleasurable burn as you clench around him. Gods it's been too long since you were filled like this, if you’ve ever even had someone with his girth before. 

Temar growls contentedly once he’s fully seated inside you and you gladly take the precious few seconds to adjust. Soon enough, he pulls nearly all the way out of you causing a desperate whine to build up in the back of your throat until he thrusts back in, ripping a ragged sound from your throat that might resemble his name. 

He picks up speed with each movement of his hips, getting surer and stronger each time. You feel your whole body move and jolt with his each and every thrust. Your hands scrabble fruitlessly at the bedding under you, trying to brace yourself or get a grip but you can’t, uncoordinated and weak from your previous orgasm as well as the overwhelming way Temar is fucking you. 

He’s going to ruin you and you’re going to thank him.

His control seems to be fraying the longer he’s inside you. You can see the claws tipping his fingers get longer where they dig into the bedding and you can feel the way they dig into your hip. The pain is the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure of him finally hitting that perfect spot inside. You can feel your inner walls flutter from the sensation. Temar must like that because he groans and makes a noticeable effort to strike that same spot repeatedly.

The unrelenting attention pays off immediately as you can feel your need wind tighter and tighter while your mind empties of thought except for the sensation and heat Temar is bringing forth from the depths you. The continual barrage of his cock finally shoves you over the edge of pleasure once more and you obligingly shatter.

He groans as your clenching around him seems to be all he needs to let go. He hilts in you one last time and you feel him come hard. He fills you up with his seed, warmth spreading, and continuing to make little half thrusts, as if trying to make sure it stays deep within you. You’re still coming down from your orgasm but the sense of satisfaction expands in your chest now that Temar’s reached his peak too.

You close your eyes, limp underneath him, but more content than you’ve felt in ages, in perfect harmony with your werebeast mate.

At some point, you feel him tip you both over onto your sides, though he keeps his cock firmly seated within your heat, keeping you full. Temar’s rumble is full of satisfaction and he engulfs you in his hold, making it clear neither of you are separating anytime soon.

You don’t know how long you lay there on your side, blissfully fuck out, still full of him. You don’t care. You enjoy floating in the hazy afterglow. Eventually he slips out of you, pulling a gasp from you and a whine from him. He nuzzles against you, as if to comfort you. You’re too boneless and witless to do anything more than nuzzle him back. 

At some point you do notice him start to move against you once more. His large hands are running along your body, as if committing it to memory. It’s not until he starts to focus on your nipples, rubbing his thumb in increasingly tight circles. Desire starts to zip through your sluggish veins and you whine, twitching in his loose hold. He seems to appreciate your reaction, nudging your head with his until you turn it to face him better. He catches your mouth in a consuming kiss, more coordinating than any previously but just as hungry. It's deep and filthy and leaves you vibrating for me.

His hand covers your cunt, still swollen and wet from your combined cum, in addition to the desire within you he’s stroking back up into a blaze.  Your sensitivity causes your hips to stutter as you’re caught between wanting more and being too tender for it. He loses interest in using his hand once you’re pushing towards him more than you are moving away. Pulling you down his body once more, his fur causing goosebumps to ripple across your flesh until you’re back where Temar at least seems to think you belong: in the cradle of his hips.

“Oh! Temar, you—mm, o-oh,” you attempt to say something to address the reignition of his desire, but before you can, his stiffening cock has managed to press against your cunt just right, moving through your lingering wetness and the spend that’s leaked out of you since said cock last left you.

“Mate,” he intones, lust certainly back into his voice. He pulls you up off the bed, securing you to his chest with the hand still clutching your chest. You’re not sure his other hand he's left your hip since it settled there. “More.”

“I, yes,” you reply, trying to pull yourself back together. Of course while in heat, he’d want to—you cut your own thoughts off with a surprised moan as he pushes back into you. Your fingers clench in the sheets as your sore, but slick muscles allow him back inside. The overstimulation is giving your head a rush. 

Luckily, this time Temar seems more deliberate and rhythmic with his thrusting rather than frenzied and desperate. His other hand resumes kneading your chest and rubbing against your stiffened nipple. The change in angle seems to keep him from going too fast and luckily requires none of your strength. In fact, the sensation of him fucking you while you lay limp in his grasp is quickly bring your own lust back at a dizzying pace you don’t expect.

He shifts and the angle gets even better, causing you to moan loudly in encouragement. You sag against him, your bones feel liquid from the way he’s been relentlessly thrusting within your cunt. His grunts and your pants fill the room. You’re still so hot, with sweat rolling down your back only to be absorbed into his fur. The sensation ensures you never forget who and what is taking you. You glory in it, in knowing he chose you.

You feel like he’s determined to fuck you until you can’t see straight, can’t move and you’re beyond willing for him to try. 

Gods, he’s going to make you forget your own name.

Something curls deep in you, winding around itself with each passing second he continues moving within you. He hunches forward, just enough to press against you, to change the angle some minuscule amount, and that spring releases. You fracture around him. As before, that appears to be all he needs to push as deep as he can and spill his seed in you one more time. The sensation of his release, of the desperate way he continues to try to fill you are the last things you remember before the pleasure pulls you under.

-/-

In the morning, or given the angle of the sun, the afternoon when you wake after a sleep longer than an hour, Temar surrounds you still. You’re in no rush as you take the time to regain your bearings and take stock of your aches. Without opening your eyes you can tell he’s looking at you. “Regret?” you ask simply, stock still in his hold, voice scratchy from overuse. You lost count of how many times aTemar fucked you last night. It's all a blur of heat and desire.

“No,” Temar rumbles, adjusting his hold. “Mine.” The added growl behind the words even in his human form sends a shiver down your spine and reignites the ache in your muscles in the most pleasing manner. 

It's more than you were hoping for, and yet you can’t help but ask, cautiously, “For the rest of your heat?” Some small part of you is still expecting to be sent on your way far sooner than you’d like to be. 

“I suppose you’ve convinced me,” Temar replies, the amusement in his voice unable to stay hidden under his put upon reluctance. “If you’ve made this foolish choice, I suppose I’ll let it stand—for now.”

“You may be stubborn, but I think we can agree I won this battle,” you point out. You finally blink your eyes open for long enough to look over your shoulder and meet his brown ones. He looks indulgent when you cup his cheek. “What makes you think you’ll fare better in the next one? I’m not sure I want for this to end with your heat.”

“I thought you’d say something of the sort,” Temar replies with a roll of eyes. He nips at your ear and pats you on the hip. “We can discuss after your bath.”

You hum, pleased immensely by the prospect. “See? Perhaps it’s you who is mine after all.”

---

Extra thanks to everyone who followed along with the original posting! all your comments and tags and asks were super encouraging!!

[fatkish]

Alpha Gyomei x Omega Reader

When Gyomei heard that an Omega had passed and survived the final selection, he prayed that you would survive and that you wouldn’t die prey to demons

He thought that, while admirable, an omega shouldn’t have to fight

You first met during the Kamado Siblings’s trial. You held tightly to Nezuko’s box and refused to let anyone touch it

Even though he cannot see, he could sense you protecting the box that held the demon. He thought that you must have been mistaken or confused about the demon, you probably thought it was a child, thus you would protect it similar to one

He could hear your growls whenever anyone got too close to you or the box. He was worried about how you would survive against a child demon if you ever faced one

When everyone questioned whether Nezuko would or wouldn’t attack a human you got fed up and walked up onto the engawa and apologized to Kagaya before taking your water container and washing off the scent blocking ointment covering your scent glands and even cut your hand on your blade before opening Nezuko’s box

The Hashira were each stunned and held themselves back when you injured yourself. When Nezuko refused to attack you despite being a bleeding omega, something every demon wouldn’t have thought twice about, Kagaya accepted Nezuko, and you stuck your tongue out at the other Hashira

Gyomei cried when he smelled your blood. He was saddened by your pain

When Kagaya asked the Hashira to take time to train you, Gyomei wasn’t so sure but agreed to do it anyways. After talking with Kagaya, he understood that Kagaya’s intention behind this training was to hopefully help you find a suitable mate so you would hopefully settle down instead of fighting

When you went to train with Gyomei after training with Shinobu, he was worried about what his typical training would do to you. Even though it was harsh, you stuck to it and remained determined to pull through it despite your many failed attempts

When you would train in the river, you saw that there were fish there and decided to catch a few for dinner on occasion

You would gather ingredients and make food for Gyomei and Genya. Gyomei, despite being blind, was actually very skilled in the kitchen, making him your cooking partner

You both would cook together and eat together with the addition of Genya. The poor boy was so flustered to be in such close proximity to an omega

Genya would always thank you but he never looked you in the eye. You kept trying to mother Genya since he was still a young Alpha and hadn’t fully presented yet

You’d often try and nuzzle and give Genya affection to which he’d get flustered and either shut down or run away much to Gyomei’s amusement

If Genya had food on his face you’d try to clean him up only for him to grow flustered and shut down

You’d give Genya tips and teach him a few moves while you both trained. Genya was worried for you but he didn’t know how to show it

Gyomei loved hearing you and Genya get along. Your near constant attempts to smother him like a pup and his adamant refusal that he’s not a pup

In the evenings and at night you’d get tired and snuggle up to Gyomei whilst he meditates or prays, often laying your head on his large thigh and curling up to him. He’d smile and run his hand over your head, giving your scalp a few good scratches before continuing his meditation

He was surprised when you would nibble on his fingers, a behavior often seen in omegas when they’re between the ages of 2-6. It’s often a comforting behavior as well as a familial bonding behavior. He cried realizing that you see him in a familial sense

Gyomei grew very fond of you and secretly prayed that you would allow him to be your alpha. He knows he’s large and has a rather intimidating presence, that’s why he’s always been afraid he would never find a mate

Most people are afraid of his large stature and it doesn’t help that he’s naturally very strong. That’s why he was so thankful to be able to spend time looking after you

When you finished training with him and left for Sanemi, he bid you good luck and farewell. He knew Sanemi could be rough, but he’d never mistreat an omega

Gyomei would miss you and your company

Tag list: @imagineshazamlokimight

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

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: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[prythianpages]

one shots

angst=  `♡´ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

↠ I've Been Waiting For You ☁︎ `♡´ | After centuries of waiting, Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate. (this is kinda inspired by Alice & Jasper from twilight.) | bonus part

↠ A Field Of Dandelions ☁︎ `♡´ | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

↠ Be Safe ☁︎ | you are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go.

↠ Be Patient ☁︎ | After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, spending seven agonizing days yearning to tell you about the bond.

↠ When I Kissed the Teacher ☁︎ | After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

↠ In My Eyes | Rhysand's Sister reader`♡´ | Azriel has lost you once and when unseen circumstances bring you back to life, he will not lose you again. Even if it means going against his family.

↠ 'Cause It Was Always You ☁︎ | After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

↠ Goodnight ☁︎ | Azriel has a night time confession.

↠ Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes `♡´ | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

↠ A Light That Never Goes Out `♡´ | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares. (Part two to the fic above.)

↠ Next to You `♡´ | The world is ending and Azriel does all he can to be next to you.

↠ Beautiful Stranger ☁︎ | Azriel gets injured while spying in Spring and meets someone he never thought he would. His mate.

↠ Hopelessly Devoted | You're hopelessly devoted to Azriel, suspecting he’s your true love. Meanwhile, Eris is hopelessly longing after you. aka Eris being your mate but you're too infatuated with Az to notice.

series

↠ Hopelessly Devoted to You | masterlist of interconnected one shots based off of the one-shot listed above.

↠ Fate, Up Against Your Will | Rhys’s sister OC

↠ Azriel x Green Witch | A series of imagines that is based from A Field of Dandelions.

↠ A Court of Shadows & Moonlight | Rhy’s sister oc |  Daughter of the Night Court’s High Lord. Half Illyrian. Half High Fae. Rhysand’s little sister. A Dreamer. Only few know her as Valeria and only one knows her truth. She is the moon, a lonely girl cratered by imperfections, and he is her night, the one who helps her shine bright.

↠ Give 'Em Hell | beron's daughter oc | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court. *currently on hold*

[wlfchnlv3r]

Mate

Non idol! Hyunjin x Nine tailed fox ! Fem reader

Synopsis: the “fox hunt” is open in your country, and you, the last nine tailed fox, despite all, you’ll find your mate.

Word count: 1.2 k

Warning: light smut, fingering, virgin! Reader.

Note: meow hope you like it!

There is a "Fox Hunt" in your country, and hunters have appeared from every corner.

Everyone wants to hunt you, the last nine-tailed fox.

Legends say you’re a gorgeous girl with long red hair and deep amber eyes, the last of your species that during mating season, show up in the woods.

• • •

You are injured, running in the woods during a storm, some men shotted at your legs during the hunt, and you are searching for a sheltered place.

You spotted a wooden house with lights on, you slowly approach the door, knocking, before a young men, with a buzz cut turns out.

Hyunjin knew who you were the moment he laid his eyes on you, your hurt expression made his heart clench.

You were trembling because of the wound and the rain, “can- can I come in…? Please”.

Hyunjin instantly helped you to stand up, holding his arm around your waist.

After that moment everything becomes blurry and you passed out.

That was the first impression you had of your “savior”, it’s been four months and you now live with Hyunjin in his house, at least is a safe place, but that’s not… all, you planned to stay there until the wound had healed but something came up, a feeling between you and Hyunjin.

• • •

You are now looking at your dressed figure at the bathroom.

Hyunjin walks over to the bathroom door and stands opposite it, he can hear how you walk or make some movements, “You done, little fox?” he asks.

You still looks at your figure, “yes…”.

He opens the door, seeing you standing in the nightgown he gives you. His gaze slides over your body up and down, his smirk does not disappear, “Ah… I was right.. You look beautiful in this nightgown…”.

Hyunjin gently caresses your waist and hums, he looks at you quietly, admiring your face, “Such a pretty fox…”.

You are lost in your thoughts, “you know… I never looked at myself in the mirror before I came here” you admit.

He raises his eyebrow, genuinely surprised, and he can’t help but chuckle, “What do you mean? You never looked in the mirror? How...?”.

“My mother was against the concept... of beauty itself and she always told me that I had to love myself for what I cherished in my heart” you simply say with a smile.

Hyunjin listens to you quietly, “So you didn’t even know that you are beautiful? Damn…. I’m surprised, you should’ve known a long ago how gorgeous you look..” he says.

He continues to stare at you with a smirk, he gently runs his fingers through your hair, caressing them softly, “But now you know how beautiful you are, right?”.

You are taken aback by the question, “I don’t know…really” you admit with sincerity.

Hyunjin sighs and gently grabs you by the chin, making you look at him, You really don’t know.. Damn.. I need to show you how beautiful you are, don’t I..?”.

He suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you up in his arms, holding you against his chest, “I’m gonna show you how beautiful you look.. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself the way I see you..”.

You gasp a little and hold onto him.

Hyunjin gently cradles you against his chest as he walks back into the bedroom and sit in front of the big mirror with you between his legs. He’s standing behind you, his chest pressed against your back, he looks at you through the mirror with a smirk, “Look at this… Do you see how gorgeous you are, little fox?”.

You look at yourself in the big mirror and smile, maybe he is right.

Hyunjin’s fingers are caressing your hips, but the touch becomes more gentle, as if to explore every inch of your body. His eyes continue to look at you through the mirror, watching how you react to his touches when an idea pops in his mind, “You look stunning in that nightgown.. So damn good..” he says as he starts to spread your legs and touch your inner tights.

His touch make your body shiver and you have to control the urge to moan.

«Mmm.. Can’t help myself… So damn beautiful..» he says pulling your panties aside and gently caressing your folds.

Hyunjin smirks at your reaction and looks at you through the mirror, feeling how your body tenses up, “I love those noises coming from your mouth, little fox”.

You can’t help but moan and let your head rest on his shoulder.

His smirk grows even more and a chuckle escapes his lips as he hears you moan, he notices how your reaction to his touch is getting stronger, and he continues to slowly tease your clit, “I haven’t even done much, but you’re already making those pretty noises for me” he continues to rub her clit with circular movement increasing the pressure.

You whines loudly as he suddenly push one fingers inside you, you still look at him through the mirror, your lips parted and soft moans that escapes your mouth.

You are about to close your eyes when Hyunjin clicks his tongue, “Ah ah ah.. I want you to keep your eyes open, little one”.

Your gaze never leave his through the mirror, and you make a little movement against his hand, wanting more, needing more.

He notices how you move against his finger, and he smirks, realizing how desperate you are, his fingers slowly moving inside you, “Mmm… Look at you… all desperate for me, does it feel good? You like that?” He can easily see how your expression change with every movement.

You are already a mess, you never experienced that but you want more, “hyunjin…more- more please” you whines.

Hyunjin’s free hand grabs your neck, gently making you look up at him in the mirror, his fingers gently caressing your skin, “pretty foxes like you always get what they want” as he says that he slides his finger out of you, just temporarily before pushing two fingers in your wet entrance.

You choke a moan, his fingers pushing against you g spot, making difficult for you to control yourself.

Hyunjin’s gaze meets yours in the mirror, he keeps your chin gently in his grip, his eyes looking deep in yours, “Are you enjoying this, little fox?.. I’m sure you are, you look so pretty like this, all desperate and needy for me” he says moving his fingers faster inside you.

You are a whiny mess, your orgasm is near and your legs are shaky.

He notices how your legs are shaking and how close you are, and he grins, watching you in the mirror, “Are you close? Are you going to come for me?”.

As soon as he says those words you comes followed by a loud moan, it is your first orgasm, and it happened with the right man, the one you want as your mate.

Hyunjin gently pulls his fingers out of you, he continues to look at you in the mirror while he brings the fingers that were inside you to his lips, and he slowly licks them, cleaning them up.

With a quick movement you turn around and hug him, you think you have finally found your mate.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere @justwonder113 @yerijaksel

(Comment to be added to the master list 🎐)

[grandline-fics]

hi! i just read all of your oneshots and they’re perfect, i’m in love. hoping it is okay to request something with zoro having a soft spot towards reader? he doesn’t even realize it a first, but since reader is somehow quiet and gentle (not weak though!) he starts to take note of small things to do/don’t do or notice their actions (ex: taking care o the crew) a lot more than others. thank you. <3

DESCRIPTION: Who knew you were Zoro’s soft spot? Apparently both of you are the last to know 

WARNINGS: none, just pure fluff

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 856

A/N:  Thank you for your kind words and for this request! I hope it's to your liking. I've been feeling a little under the weather these past couple of days so some fluff was needed <3

MASTERLIST

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

It’s tiny things; little, practically meaningless things that are so easy to miss but they’re there. When you first joined the crew, your presence fell into the likes of his and Robin’s; strong but relatively quiet and easily looked passed if you wanted. You didn’t see the point in wasting energy needlessly and knew the value in waiting until letting yourself be known. Zoro unknowingly enjoyed that kind of calm you naturally brought and found himself gravitating towards it because it seemed even when he was in his own space you were still in his eye-line. In the beginning he found it a little strange that it kept happening, he knew you weren’t following him. Hell most of the times you were on the other side of the ship or talking with someone else so he cleared it as coincidence and thought nothing of it. As time went on, there was a lot he was putting down to mere coincidence. 

When you were all exploring new islands it was purely happenstance that you two walked side by side. Neither of you were the type to bound about and race ahead without a cause for urgency. He found he didn’t get lost as easily when you were close. You always seemed to know the way to go. On one trip Brook had commented to Zoro how lucky he had been that you were there to talk to him at the right moment otherwise he would have kept walking towards a path that would have taken him towards a ravine. Because of your voice suddenly pulling him into conversation he’d kept the right track and avoided possibly injuring himself and getting a lecture from the others. Lucky right?

It was also luck of the draw that when eating or drinking off the ship, Zoro was sat at the table in such a way that his back blocked you mostly from view from any unwanted stares. It was never in a subconscious way to keep you from interacting with others but it was like another sense he had that he was able to tell when you just wanted to sit with the crew and enjoy your meal. It seemed to go both ways too in that regard. If women tried to approach and flirt with him you effortlessly had a way of making a joke to dissuade them and steer them in Sanji’s direction. Was any of it done out of jealousy, possessiveness of the other’s attention, or an overwhelming need to protect? Not in the least, it was just doing what needed to be done to help out a friend and fellow crew-mate.

On the Sunny it’s no different. It’s not even a second thought, his body just reacts without thinking. In the early, barely waking hours when he’s finished his night watch and is about to grab a quick snack before training he always pulls out a specific mug from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. It’s never for him and like clockwork you appear just as he’s finished drinking a glass of water. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stifling a small yawn you always offer him a small smile and greeting that is returned. You both pass each other, your only motivation is caffeine to see you through the last of the watch before everyone else is awake while he goes to the crow’s nest to train. 

After all this time it’s never occurred to you to question why your mug is waiting for you when you rise. You don’t know why but it’s something that immediately makes your morning a little bit brighter. It’s also routine now that an hour or so after breakfast, you and Zoro both nap; him to rest between his training sessions and you to grab another couple hours after your night watch. Nami occasionally glances up from her charts to shake her head at your sleeping forms. Robin finds it adorable while Brook chuckles, nostalgic over youth and love’s first stages. 

“Jeez they’re both so clueless.” Sanji grumbles, he’s accepted long ago that he doesn’t have a chance with you but is so infuriated that nothing has actually happened. He lost you to the swordsman who hasn’t even thought to make a move. Usopp grins and watches as you stir slightly in your sleep which in turn makes Zoro react before his body relaxes again. Currently he’s lying on his back with one hand tucked behind his head. While the other that’s draped over his chest, his fingers almost touching yours that are curled by your head as you sleep on your side. 

From his spot on Sunny’s head, Luffy grins. “I don’t know. I think they do know, in their own way.” It’s the little, insignificant things that you both do for each other that are easy to miss and while a lot of little things add up into something bigger, none of it compares to the way that you and Zoro unknowingly look at each other at any given chance. Because that is something so big that no one else can ignore. 

[russo-woso]

Will you please do a lia walti x reader where reader gets injured in international duty and Lia is really worried because she saw it happen on tv

I’m sorry I can’t be there | Lia Wälti

Warning injury, mention of blood

Summary Lia can’t be there when you make your debut for your country

(Please pretend Leah was able to play in the December matches. I know she wasn’t in the squad but I realised as I had finished writing it.)

“That’s not Lia again is it?” Leah questioned as she saw you on FaceTime.

“No.” You respond, clearly lying.

“Hi, Lia.” Leah said as she took a place sat next to you.

“Hi Leah. How’s my girl doing?” Lia asked, and Leah fake gagged at the pet name.

“She’s doing fine. Scoring goal after goal in training.” Leah explained, taking the phone off you so she could continue the conversation with Lia.

It was your first England camp and to say you was nervous was an understatement.

You were scared that you weren’t going to be good enough, scared that you’d have no friends there, thinking that the Arsenal girls would go and spend time with their other friends, but you were completely wrong.

Leah had been with you throughout the whole camp, making sure you were settled in, making sure you were never bored or alone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lia had pulled Leah aside and asked her to make sure you were alright and Leah couldn’t say no to her best friend.

And anyway, you and Leah were like sisters so she was obviously going to look after you.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?” You asked Leah, gesturing for her to give you back your phone.

“Bye Lia, see you soon.” Leah waved to the phone, handing you the phone. “I never spend any time with my best friend anymore because of you.” Leah mumbled under her breath as you shook your head at her.

“It was you who introduced us.” You defended, remembering the time when Leah introduced you to Lia on your first day at Arsenal.

“Love, I’m going to go to sleep now but I’ll message in the morning.” Lia said, restricting the bickering between you and Leah to continue.

“Okay, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, liebling.”

“I regret introducing you both. It’s absolutely sickening how in love you two are.” Leah stated, sighing as she recalled all the past times where you and Lia have been sickeningly cute together.

“You’re just jealous because you have no one to be sickeningly in love with.” You pointed out as Leah’s signature frown appeared on her face.

“I can easily talk to Sarina about dropping you from the squad.” Leah threatened, clearly joking with you.

“There is no way we’ll be dropping Y/N from the squad.” Sarina said, walking into the room. “She’s a valuable player, one that we need.”

“Thank you, Sarina.” You spoke before turning back to Leah and sent a smirk to her.

Leah shook her head before walking out.

Letting out a small laugh, you joined into a conversation with Beth and Lucy.

————————

Looking at your phone, good luck I love you xx was displayed on it from Lia.

“You’ll do fine. I know you will.” Your Arsenal teammate, Alessia, said, resting her hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks, less.” You responded, hesitantly, not knowing if she was right or not.

“Alessia’s right, mate. Believe in yourself. You’re here for a reason.” Lotte spoke up, as everyone hummed in agreement.

After getting warmed up and ready for the game, Sarina pulled you to the side, explaining that she’d put you on later in the game.

You smiled, happy that you would definitely be debuting for your country.

Remembering Lia’s message earlier, you opened your phone sending a quick text.

Thank you, baby. Sarina said I’d be on in the second half. Good luck on your match x

And with that, you walked out of the tunnel and onto the bench.

————————

After a disappointing first half, the Netherlands scoring two goals, and a dramatic start to the first half, Georgia and Hempo equalising, it was your turn to run onto a sold out Wembley.

It was the 79th minute and from the tactics Sarina had shared with you, you were fairly certain that you could help change the scoreline.

And that’s exactly what you did.

As you received the ball on the left wing, two minutes into injury time, you looked up to see Tooney making a run into the box.

You took a touch before delivering the ball perfectly to Ella’s feet.

However, before you could even see if Ella got it into the goal, you were taken off your feet due to a late tackle.

You fell to the floor, clutching your ankle as you screamed out in pain.

The girls gathered round you, immediately calling for the medics to come over.

It felt like minutes before the medics got to you when actually, it was only a matter of seconds.

In the few seconds it took them to get to you, the Dutch player apologised profusely. She also got a red card, saying sorry a final time before making her way off the pitch.

You were trying to take your mind off the pain, instead trying to focus in on your surroundings, but as the medics took your boot off, a muffled grunt of pain escaped your mouth as you bit down on your shirt.

Leah held your hand, letting you squeeze it as medics slide down your sock to reveal a very broken ankle.

You looked up, which you know now you shouldn’t have done, to be met with a tonne of blood running down your leg and ankle.

You had figured she had gone into the challenge studs first, but what you hadn’t realised was just how impactful it had been, especially so forceful it had made you bleed.

Eventually, the medics called the onsite paramedics to stretcher you into the ambulance.

You couldn’t remember the rest, apart from Leah saying goodbye.

The paramedics gave you strong painkillers that happened to make you really out of it.

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, they took you into surgery, placing pins into your ankle before putting it in a cast.

Whilst you were in surgery, some of your teammates made their way to the hospital to check you were alright.

Leah made sure to request that she received frequent updates on you and also requested that you had your own private room.

Which came in handy because when you awoke from surgery and they wheeled you back to your room, you had several missed calls from Lia.

You clicked on her name, calling her back, and within just two seconds she picked up.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?” Lia’s voice was barely a whisper, sadness and worry clearly visible in her voice.

“I’m okay, love, I promise. Just a broken ankle. and several months of recovery, but I’ll be okay.” You reassured her, your voice hoarse from not talking for hours.

“It was so scary, baby. At the end of the match, I was told you went down and we turned on the tv on the coach back to the hotel and it was showing your injury. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’m sorry I can’t be there now.” Lia explained, small sniffles could be heard between every few words.

“Lia, love, I promise it’s okay that you’re not here. Don’t worry about me please. You go and enjoy the Spanish sun. I’ll be fine.” You repeated your words, making the point clear that you were okay.

“I love you, Y/N.” Lia’s voice broke as she said it, making your heart clench.

“I love you too, Lia. I’ll see you soon. Get some sleep, love.”

————————

After the exhaustion that the drama and injury caused yesterday, it wasn’t a surprise when you woke up close to 1 o’clock in the afternoon the following day.

Your eyes opened, hesitantly due to the light, noticing the big cast on your leg that you got to properly see for the first time in the daylight.

You winced in pain as you pushed yourself up against the bed so you were sitting up.

Looking to your right, you saw a big get well soon balloon on your table with a bouquet of flowers next to it.

Your eyebrows furrowed as a confused look took over your face, clearly confused as to who they were from.

“They’re from me.” A voice said from your left.

You recognised the voice immediately, after all, it was your favourite voice to hear.

“Lia? Baby, what are you doing here?” You questioned as you opened your arms for her to hug you.

“I couldn’t stand not being with you. I felt bad for not being with you when you got injured and I couldn’t not be here for your recovery.” Lia explained, tears welling in her eyes.

“You’re here with me now though.” You pointed out, moving on the bed so Lia could lay down next to you.

“I am. And I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too, love.”

My requests are open :)