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theeveninghour · 6 months

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All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby!

WC: 16.1k ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things.

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it.

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo.

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour.

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous.

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return.

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into.

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed.

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal.

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee.

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit. But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.”

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone.

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure.

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else.

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.”

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove.

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully.

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire.

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.”

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone.

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked..

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it.

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift.

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief.

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes.

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance.

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment.

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed.

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon.

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate.

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room.

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees.

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction.

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension.

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel.

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.” He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on.

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind.

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind.

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.”

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way.

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you.

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment.

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up.

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive.

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily.

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features.

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed.

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness.

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight.

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple.

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up.

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here.

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed.

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose.

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred.

Shit.

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky.

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed.

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead.

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting.

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit.

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared.

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand?

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles.

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt.

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head.

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently.

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming.

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound.

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago.

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate.

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you.

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode.

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian.

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded.

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try.

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you.

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives.

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens.

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook.

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him.

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!”

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered.

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.”

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back.

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home.

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body.

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you.

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.”

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically.

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now.

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.”

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly.

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained.

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently.

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own.

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life.

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male.

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time.

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.”

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit. You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly.

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action.

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee.

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly.

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off.

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.”

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading.

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin.

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth.

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven.

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier.

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.”

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed.

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.”

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile.

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested.

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you.

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love.

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.”

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core.

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh.

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations.

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh.

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself.

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back.

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch.

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off.

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up.

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed.

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest.

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked.

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder.

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there.

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt.

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest.

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours.

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf.

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm.

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard.

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.”

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked.

2K notes · View notes

mrsdesade · 3 months

Note

What about some Homelander x needy fem reader smut? He made her cry and then he goes soft on her? :)

Say no more anon, here's something for you! It will definitely be something long because I liked the idea so much!

Afterparty;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera as usual) TW: NSFW, mention of drugs, teasing, smut, fluff, aftercare Words count: 2,6k

You and Homelander are attending a night party hosted by Vought, a grand event where the company's high-profile visitors and staff gather to mingle and celebrate.

Was as extravagant as ever, with celebrities, influencers, investors, and a few lucky civilians gathered together in an opulent ballroom. Laughter and music filled the air as people mingled around, engaging in small talk and celebrating.

You've had plenty of conversations, meetings with executives and public appearances with Homelander. By the looks of it, you've both done your part to keep up the public image that Vought has made of you two.

Exausting.

As the night starts slowly to wind down, you find yourselves with a brief moment alone. Homelander looks at you with a mix of tiredness and relief, as if he can finally let his guard down now that you two are out of the spotlight.

"Goddamn, these parties are a pain. I know they're important for the image, but dealing with all those people trying to win my favor… it's starting to wear me down."

He lets out a frustrated huff, his eyes flitting over the crowd around you.

"I swear I could snap the neck of the next person who comes up to me asking for an autograph or a selfie..."

You simply let out a little laugh, but your eyes are wandering around, and your arms are crossed at your stomach, you seem distracted.

Homelander notices the hint of something amiss in your laughter, his sharp senses picking up on the fact that you're not quite comfortable.

"Hey, you alright? You're not your usual self tonight."

''I think I drank too much, I've been feeling strange ever since the party began...but I only drank two glasses of champagne, alcohol usually doesn't cause me problems.''

It's clear that something is wrong, the more he looks at you, the more the signs of your discomfort are visible. Under the beautiful make-up that has been done on you, your cheeks are red, and a few small drops of sweat slide down your temple. Quite strange, since it's December, outside is snowing.

"Two glasses of champagne shouldn't have that kind of effect on you. You're a damn superhero, and a strong one. Are you seriously getting ill from some champagne? I was waiting for a more epic weakness, you know? Something like kryptonite, I don't know."

''If you're here to make fun of me you can go back to the party. Fuck, they must have mixed some kind of drug in my drink. Maybe something that would kill a human has that effect on me. That's the only explanation I have..."

''Someone was stupid enough to drug you? I should find whoever did it and rip their damn head off."

''You're not helping me.''

Your look of disapproval is eloquent, you would like to explain the situation to him better, but you can't do it explicitly. He seems really stupid to you right now. You're holding your chest tight with your arms, your legs are shaking slightly and for the first time you're struggling to stand on your heels.

"What do you want me to do, hold your hand and comfort you? I'm not exactly known for my tender side, you know."

Despite his words, he comes closer to support you with a hands on your back, it seems like you could fall to your knees at any moment.

But immediately he can feel your skin unnaturally warm to the touch. It's at that moment that he starts to notice something unusual, a change in your demeanor. Your breathing is rapid and shallow, and your eyes have a glassy look.

Homelander's eyes widen in realization, as he finally connects the dots.

''...those bastards. They have put an aphrodisiac in your drink.''

''Wow, It took you a while to understand, men never think about these things, I honestly envy you.''

The situation is quite embarrassing for you, but you still manage to want to make fun of him. You have found a stable and comfortable position holding on to his arm, everything seems normal to the people around you, but you know that you will be able to control yourself only for a short time.

He notices the change in your behavior, feeling your hand gripping tighter onto his arm, and the proximity of your body next to his. He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure.

"Yeah, laugh it up. But you're the one who's struggling to stand still. How the hell did they pull something like this off? I thought Vought security was supposed to prevent something like this from happening."

It's clear that you're not listening to him, you feel the warm from your legs coming up to your throat. You bite your lower lip trying to think as little as possible, but your gaze falls on his hands, causing your mind to drift to absolutely less pure thoughts.

"What are you looking so intently at my hands?''

You lean in a bit closer to him, your playful demeanor turns more tempting, and your voice lowers to a sultry tone, his right hand still holding onto your waist and your running up on his fingers.

''Can't you imagine?''

Homelander tries to maintain his cool demeanor, but he's failing miserably.

Your fingers continue to softly caress his hand, tracing circles on his knuckles, adding to the tension between you two. You take a small step closer, your body now almost pressed against his, and look up at him through your eyelashes, a sly smile on your lips.

"All the things I'm holding myself back from asking you to do to me right now."

His mind suddenly fills with images of what you're hinting at. But he remained silent, faking a smile to the guest who are still walking around the room.

''Come on Homelander, let's get away from this party. I need you. I crave your touch. On me. In me.''

Your lips ghost along his jawline, pressing the promise of a kiss near his ear. You know exactly what to say to convince him, even If your mind is not completely clear, you know what you want and how to get it.

"Please, I'm begging you."

His self-control is about to snap.

''Fine, let's get out of here before I lose my damn mind. Follow my lead and act natural."

He starts guiding you towards the exit, with a certain urgency, casually nodding to guests and saying brief goodbyes as you make your way out of the room.

As you make your way through the crowd, you try your best to act normal and compose yourself, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the facade. Finally, he finds a secluded corridor and leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door closes, the illusion of control shatters. The tension that have been building up between you two throughout the night reach their peak, and he takes a step forward but you are the first to close the distance and kiss him. Your body wants nothing more than him, the effect of the drug is getting worse and although you haven't said anything, your body language is more than eloquent.

The sight and feel of you, craving for him so openly, is intoxicating.

"God, you're too damn beautiful, Ophera. I've never saw you so messy and needy... only for me.''

''Oh, just for one time, could you just shut up and use your hands for something useful?''

"Eager, aren't we? Don't worry, I'll gladly indulge you.''

He wastes no time in doing as you demand. Your sparkling red dress falls to the floor, but the heat you feel continues to increase, you feel his hands descend on you, and his fierce kisses forbid you to breathe.

He pushes your legs apart with one hand, then he starts caressing you, making you release a sudden moaned whimper. The feel of his leather clad fingers moving so slowly it immediately brings you closer to the edge.

Ridiculous, how is this possible? You think. Ah, yes, that's right, the aphrodisiac, this sensation is like nothing you've ever felt. But it feels so freaking good.

His two fingers slides inside of you, he's enjoying the idea of torturing you. He can feel himself hardening more with every wet sound and moan from you, but driving you insane is going to be way more fun for him than sharing a temporary pleasure.

''...look at you, so needy just for my fucking fingers. You are truly shameless.''

Back against a cold wall, hands on his shoulders, balancing precariously on your heels while your legs tremble and your mind doesn't think clearly, this time he's in control. He's the one in charge.

Time begins to pass. Half an hour, an hour, two, three.

You're whining, you're moaning, and it sounds gorgeous.

What you don't know, is that from the exact moment he saw tears appear in your eyes, he wants to see you cry in his arms. He want to see you desperate for pleasure. You're nearly scream his name.

''You're making such a good show for me, keep going. Keep going...''

He’s enjoying how you’re desperately thrusting against him. Begging him do not stop. Ah yes, sxx between superheroes, durability is the key word to having an extreme fun. Or extreme pleasure. Y'know.

At a certain point you feel his hand move away a little, perhaps his intention was to move on to something more substantial, more thicker. But you immediately block him by grabbing his wrist. Your eyes meet again, and you really are a beautiful mess.

''Don't you dare...to stop...''

''You’ve had thirty orgasms. I'm at zero. How greedy you are.''

Bastard. He’s been keeping count.

''I don't care...touch me again, only one more time. Please...''

Your mind, now overwhelmed by ecstasy, having now the most intense moment of your life. It seems like you can't get enough, and here's his chance to get what he wants. He wants to see you cry.

''Then beg for it.''

His hand that he had leaning against the wall now comes violently wrapped around your neck. Since he can't satisfy himself, he decides that he will have fun in another way. Can't have the pleasure? Then he will have violence. Both are perfect.

Your legs are shaking again and your breath becoming more shallow. You murmur his name in short moans, begging him as he ordered, eyes closed as your makeup slowly begins to run on your cheeks, accompanied by a few small tears.

He is extremely fascinated by you in that moment, you're so lost in pleasure, so desperate for his touch to the point of crying.

''Homelander...''

You cried out as your body finally release, another orgasm coming down hard from your desperate wait. Your body shudders as your walls squeeze tighter around his fingers.

Then he pause, fingers slip out, he stopped for a second looking at you, still lost in the pleasure aftershocks.

Your body is drained of energy, your breathing ragged. You are too tired to speak, the intense moments you’ve experienced leaving you breathless. Your body feels weary and heavy, the afterglow of your passionate encounter still lingering in your core. And then your legs give out, and you stumble, risking falling, but the fact that he is in front of you, saves you.

''Hey-- you feel good? It was too much?''

He asked a bit worried, his arm wrapped securely around you.

A small, weary smile curves your lips, acknowledging his unexpected concern.

''Are you serious? It was...incredible. I assure you I'm fine, more than fine. Just a bit tired.''

He holds you firmly against him, his strong arms encircling your trembling body. He notices your exhaustion and the way your legs give out, nearly toppling over.

''Don't lie to me, tell me If there's something wrong.''

''Dear, I'm being more than sincere right now, do I seem regretful or unsatisfied? I don't think so.''

You laughed, taking him off guards with your spontaneity.

''Well--uhm, yeah okay, good. Now, let's get back to my apartment. The effect of the aphrodisiac has worn off, and soon you will feel cold with only this fancy dress on.''

''Sure...let's get back to the 99 floor.''

You try to move away from him a little, just a little to walk to the door, but you feel the balance missing and you fall back with your hands resting on his shoulders. Your expression is tired but amused, you find funny even a moment like this.

''Where do you think you're going? Come here, you tired diva. You don't have to walk, I'll carry you.''

He lifts you in his arms carrying you as you weigh nothing, and then he let out a short phrase whispered with kindness.

''I'll take care of you.''

He pauses for a moment, realizing the unfamiliar words that just slipped out of his lips. He clears his throat, trying to cover up the unexpected softness in his voice.

Your reaction is one of mild surprise mixed with a hint of amusement. You look at him with a sly smile, raising an eyebrow. Knowing damn well that he's not used to doing such things.

''Oh, what happened to the tough, domineering Homelander? Suddenly, you're acting all caring and loving.''

"Listen, why do you have to be so annoying?"

Homelander rolls his eyes in response to your playful remark. He knows you caught him in a moment of unexpected tenderness.

''Don't get used to it, doll. This is a one-time exception.''

You let out a small, satisfied laugh at his response, knowing you got under his skin again, like usual.

''Oh come on, lighten up. It's quite charming, you know. You playing the concerned and gentle lover.''

''Concerned and gentle lover, that's not really my thing, if you didn't notice.''

He watches you with a hint of skepticism, waiting for your next smart answer.

''So why did you put your cloak around my shoulders when you lifted me up? It was a spontaneous gesture and you didn't even notice it.''

Homelander froze for a moment, caught off guard by your observation. It was true, he had subconsciously done that without even thinking. He lets out a defeated sigh, realizing that you know that he cares, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

''Fine, you win. I didn't like seeing you shivering. And maybe because I…care.''

"Aww, who would have thought? The great Homelander, soft? For me? How unexpected. Maybe I should thank the one who put the drugs in my drink, without his intervention I would never have discovered this side of you.''

You smile warmly, teasingly caressing his hair with your hand while he's walking outside the room, It's now late at night and there's no one one around. Only the silence and the neon lights of the big Vought tower.

You hug him, staying close to him, safe in his arms, enjoying that moment of kindness that you don't know if it will ever return. But for tonight that's fine. You give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and let him carry you to his room.

''Damn you for making me say things like that.''

He whispered, after after gently placing you on the bed, where you will sleep together that night. You sink into the soft bed, a soft smile on your lips. You look up at him in the dim light, waiting for him. That smile will be his downfall, or yours, who knows.

He's secretly pleased by all of your lovely reaction, and he adores you so damn much, but he will never admit it.

-------

Thanks again for the request, it was really entertaining to write, hope you like it! Kisses <3

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heartfullofleeches · 2 days

Text

[tw: mentions of death]

Last Carnis fact (for today)

So, quick tldr is Carnis is a lab experiment created with both human and cow dna to be a food supply and organ donor for the public. They heal at an insane rate and are effectively immortal. This project was later disbanded and all test subjects after Carnis were executed or moved to secret locations.

Now, you may ask how Carnis' siblings were able to be killed. The older Carnis grew, the more violent they became. Scientists saw the danger and basically installed a killswitch in later successful subjects where if their brains were damaged in one specific spot - they die for good.

Carnis came before this decision and therefore they are the only true immortal. Carnis is not aware of this, saw the deaths of their siblings and also believes they'll die if something happens to their head/brain.

Carnis asking for headpats from Reader is the biggest display of trust they can give.

#Carnis my oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere blurb

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serxinns · 3 months

Note

Platonic Yandere EraserMic fam dealing with a fem teen that's an anti-hero? Like the couple is tasked with watching the wayward adolescent, because she was really close with taking down the hero commission ( let's not pretend to not know how shady they are ). But before she can fully execute her plan she was taken down by the Pros, the couple in question included. Now the two heroes and their family has to play babysitter/ temporary foster family to the little rebel. Because even though they've done more good than harm in most cases, taking down villains and corrupt heroes a like. Most of the main figure heads can admit that her taking down something as big as the hero commission will cause a major wave of distrust for the hero society. Which compared to the little ripples of distrust their vigilante causes by exposing the corrupt heroes that dwells behind the scenes of the hero society, taking down something as big as the hero commission will possibly cause a tsunami and leave behind collateral damage. So to stop the carnage before it happened, they caught their darling slipping last minute and used it to stop them. Ever since then the vigilante has be under near constant surveillance by the two heroes ( and possibly more-- ). But enough about that, what's life like with the EraserMic fam and their little anti-hero?

P.S. If you can't tell, the darling quirk has a lot to do with water. She can manipulate water, her voice can enchant and control others, and she can even turn into a mermaid.

Yandere Erasermic family x Reader!

Tw: Blood, mentions of Abuse, Threats of violence, graphic violence, mentioned cheating, unhealthy obsessions, Death, Murder scenes, and more if you aren't comfortable with these types of stuff don't read, please

"THEYRE RIGHT THERE" one Hero ordered the police as they chased down the person with the white fox mask down the alleyway carrying a suitcase, not long before they found the body of Fire Ranger The famous pro hero that can shoot fireballs out of his body

he was discovered in what recently seemed to be a flooded basement hands and feet chained up connected to a ball and his skin was covered in blisters and scald burns, the only thing the culprit left out was a single video posted on his phone on his Social media labeled "the truth of a filthy hero" Aizawa grabbed his phone and searched up video and decided to watch it

the video showed the hero, hitting his poor girlfriend until bruises showed yelling at her calling her cruel and disgusting names, saying awful and pretty offensive statements in public at times, and a video of him with multiple women touching and flirting with him while they all make cruel jokes about his girlfriend the video was labeled "is this the hero you root for?" With a single smile

the smell and the video were so sickening that the cops had to run outside the house to puke it was such a disturbing site...

Aizawa couldn't believe his eyes who would've done such a horrific act he didn't care for heroes ofc but was making up theories of who could've been, it quickly stopped when he saw a figure running from the crime scene with a suitcase in hand and that's how they ended up here

Shouta aimed their capture weapon towards them and shot but the focus mask completely dodged it with their swift movement, the chase went on and on until the perpetrator later climbed onto the roof and sprinted away he watched I'm shocked and angry "crap..." he said simply irritated "Sir what should do now we have to follow them!" A female officer spoke out to the hero whilst replying with a huff, "retreat they got away" he nonchalantly said as he slowly walked past them defeated once again

Later that night Aizawa was in his office observing the files of the now 5 cases in his hands he looked closely to see every one of them all single their deaths it's been their 5th top hero death in the past 6 months and nobody seemed to be knowing who would've done it observes more trying to see the pattern of these deaths and why they were killing top pro heroes ever since the 3 pro hero's has been confirmed dead publicly the hero society started to collapse...

You watched from above on a roof with chaotic glee, popcorn in hand while some kids started to vandalize the statue of Striker, another pro hero who got killed a month ago, drawing dick shapes onto its forehead, the word liar onto its chest, and a clown makeup planted straight onto their face while making cruel jokes at her, after a while they walked away proud of their work

You climbed down to examine the masterpiece the boys did "It's such a shame how such a pretty face was just a mask to hide what you are~" you teased at the statue as If she was standing right there glaring daggers at you, oh how you remembered the way her prideful smile dropped as you showed her pictures of her bullying and harassing her employers, never giving the hardest worker the deserved pay, and overworking them to the core where some of them committed suicide due to the constant bullying.

The way she pleaded with her life the same way her victims did when she was all high and mighty as you kept dunking her head into the water until the point she was coughing and throwing up water the way she finally took her last breath looking at you with the fear in those eyes it made your spirit flare up in some sort of sickening and gleefully sensation

After that, you decided it was time to go back to your hideout so you went to plan your next attack after all a big day was waiting for you! And you needed to get ready!

Days after Fire Ranger got exposed for his wrongdoings and announced dead, the citizens grew more suspicious and resentful of the heroes..., most of them would shame them for "hiring such disgusting people", you giggled at the fact that citizens were now making up rumors and theories that the hero commission was only hiring people with higher power and look it became so bad that the citizens were now Booimg harassing other famous heroes to the point they had to take a long mental break and on the brint to quitting

"Shouta, baby you've been in your office for the whole afternoon hour, Eri has been worried about ya, " Hizashi said with a plate of a cream baegal and some dark coffee with a cream heart on top just the way he likes it, he planted a kiss on the man's cheek he looked over and formed a small smile and sighed "It's just that it's been months and the culprit hasn't been found yet, 5 deaths in six months and we don't even have any evidence, clues or even a single suspect of who's doing it"

Aizawa laid his head on the desk in exhaustion mic was about to say something but noticed something like some sort of pattern...he moved shouta grabbed the files and looked closely and his eyes widened "Hizashi I know what the killer goal is..." hiszaahi looked up at him strangely his eyebrow raised "You know how every time every victim isn't innocent here right ?" Hiszashi nodded interested to hear him out "And every time we get there a video is posted on their account showing their true colors and dark intentions right?"

They both stared at eachother intensity when shouta said the final part

"The killer isn't after Heros just innocent heroes... They're after the corrupted ones. ...And they're getting their background information"

...

"COME BACK HERE YOU BITCH!" The villain shouted as he and other groups of criminals chased after her, woman shuddered at the booming voice as she ran, turning and twisting in any direction while panting heavily and sobbing she shakenly grabbed her phone trying to ring the police but a bullet shot the phone making the glass shatter in her face She yelped, bits if glass piercing through her face but continued running as her legs ache and her remaining adrenaline supported her

She quickly ran to the alley where she was met with a dead-end she frustrating cried out as she dropped to her knees the villain leader and his goons chuckled darkly as they cornered her she scattered and backed away, the villain then grabbed her harshly by the arm meeting an evil grin plastered on his face, "you gave us quite the chase there kid I must admit" his other hand grabbed her chin harshly and yanked it making her look at him "but you and father already made a deal and you belong to me now" "FUCK YOU!" The girl spit at the villain's face

In anger, he threw the girl down hard making her sprain her arm and grabbed a knife in his pocket and pinned her by her neck against the wall shoving the knife into her mouth "I had enough of that filthy mouth of yours why don't we cut off that little tongue of yours the girl's eyes widen as she closed her eyes ready for the pain coming to her...

until she suddenly felt his grip loosen and a thud seeing a hole in his chest as he collapsed lifelessly, the other goons started freaking out aiming their weapons and quirks waving them everywhere until another water-like arrow shot another goon in the head, "WHAT THE WHATS GOING ON!?" As one goon question as the others started panicking out there minds, "I should be asking the same thing you scums"

Behind them was a fox-masked figure holding what seemed to be a spear made of water, the goons backed up and aimed their weapons at them but the fox-masked giggled "This was way too easy your leader was such a pain I swear wish I could've tortured him..." she said as she rolled her eyes "but Oh well! Anyways can you hand me that girl please just throw her towards me and no one gets hurt"

the goons all glared daggered until one goon signal another and decided to be extreme and grabbed the injured girl and put a knife around her neck she squealed in pain as the knife pressed into her neck "TAKE ONE MOVE AND THE BITCH GETS IT" he grinned sadistically the fox masked yawned unamused at the man's threat "can you villains say anything original these days? Thats such a cringe statement"

You then disappeared into a puddle of water, the goon was confused and alarmed they all aimed their weapons in every direction, the fox-masked jumped out of another puddle, and stab the goon behind holding the girl she was then dropped onto the floor and scattered towards the wall behind you with all her energy, goons started getting angry and started to attack out of fear and anger charging towards you but a bullet has met their heads before they could even touch you, up on the roof was a rabbit-masked person with a sniper,

you and Homura then savagely killed each of the goons one by one trying to leave no one behind a goon then tackled you from behind and pulled off your mask "Y/N!" Homura called out and aimed her gun at the goon and shot the man directly in the head falling on top of you, "thanks" you pushed the body off, quickly putting back on your mask and cleaning yourself up, all there was left was 2 shivering goons and a shivering injured girl Homura went up to the scared girl and started confronting her while you could take care the last two "and then there was two~" the two goons flinched at your teasing voice you smiled sadistically as you held your weapon up ready to attack them until you heard footstep...

Hero footsteps

"THIS IS THE HERO ASSOCIATION GROUP PUT YOUR HANDS UP"

"Fuck.. and I was having the best for last..." you whined feeling defeated "COME ON WE DONT HAVE ANY TIME" Homura yelled you quickly put on your mask as Homura summoned a portal and the two of you disappeared,

when the pros and police went around the corner they were all met with a very gruesome scene..they later arrested the two goons and let the teenage girl call her grandma while the police investigating one of the police found a hair...

A single h/c hair...

"Whew, that was fun!" You said exciting out the portal and into your and Homura's secret hideout, you and Homura decorated the hideout that used to be an abandoned modern house everyone ignored the two of you stayed and lived in that hideout for years making plans and more the hideout "and dangerous you could've gotten us caught you know that right that villain pulled off your mask revealing your identity!" You rolled her eyes at her "But we killed the dude and the other two goons are in jail so they can't do anything we'll be fine" You brushed her off but she was still glaring at you anyways I'm gonna go plan another assassination!

"We already took down 5 isn't that enough?!" Homura glared as you were once again researching for your next victim "I know but I'm feeling a bit confident these past months they haven't caught us now and they never will" Homura groaned at her friend's stupidity checking who were you gonna target next untill you heard a faint knock on the door

The Both of you froze and stared at each then back at the door Homura signaled you to the portal she summoned when you were about to take the 1st step the door was smashed open revealing a few pro heroes and police officers yelling at the two of you to put your hands in the air you were about to activate your quirk until a red-winged hero held a leather like sword on your neck "I wouldn't do that if I were you kid~" you glanced at the man and suddenly started smiling

"Ah you right I should have I'm sorry" You caught the hero off guard in time to turn around and kick him in his groin he grunted in pain while you started running towards the exit Homura urged you to come on but you were wrapped around in strong like fabric on you, "ILL COME BACK Y/N!" Homura said as she quickly went into the portal you watched sadly but were glad she escaped "y/n you are now being detained the handled by the police you're coming with us" the man with long black and red eyes said as you were escorted with quirk cancelation cuffs and into the police car

At the police station, you were questioned by a lot of police officers, they were surprised when they found out about your age "A fourteen-year-old!?" One police officer examined the picture making sure that was true "How can a 14-year-old be able to kill 5 of our top heroes in 6 months!?!" Another said shocked "And their quirk is really strong so their skills are above average than the average teenager"

officer Tsukaucki and his colleagues started talking and bickering about what were they gonna do with you while they investigated, they couldn't put you in jail the hero society would've gone on a hunting spree to try and free someone as young as you, and villains would've tracked you down so their hands were tied at the moment, so they had one remaining option...

While you were sitting in one of the waiting rooms for criminals hawks were in charge of watching you which you disliked but kept quiet you noticed how the red-winged hero was staring at you for a long time "I'll be right back" as he went to the vending machine getting two drinks one some iced coffee and an f/d (fav drink) walked over and handed the Drink to you, you stared for a moment as he calm smiled at you, you silently thanked him and slowly took opened it taking a sip,

it was refreshing at least..

the two of you started making conversation about goals dreams weird stuff just anything honestly keigo noticed how you were very secretive with certain stuff but he didn't care it was kinda of nice talking to people and it feels kinda nice honestly...

"Y/n l/n" a voice called the two hawks escorted you out of the waiting room there you met a giant rat or mouse creature wearing a suit and tie with a permanent scar on his eye he smiled warmly at you "So is this the culprit? She seemed so young mr Tsukauchi?"

"Yes, this a the culprit behind the deaths Mr Nezu we are still under investigation at the moment and we dont know what to do with the girl " Tsukauchi exclaimed nezu walked closer to you and examined you for a moment looking you for a moment and writing something down "now tell me what is her quirk? " "Water manipulation sir she can also change the temperature of the water and add pressure onto it and can make weapons out of her water"

Mr. Nezu smiled brightly as he was impressed "ok I think I may my decision" he said as you looked up at him "L/n San I'm gonna give you two choices on what to do with you" You glanced up at him with a blank expression "you'll be in watchful of the pro heroes pro heroes with having to go to UA for your rehabilitation process or you can go to juvie that's islands away from Tokyo with very great security until you are trailed as an adult choose wisely my dear" he said still in a gentle bright tone

You glared at him you wanted to protest how you were doing the right thing but you knew you weren't gonna have any freedom if you picked the 2nd option so in a quiet tone

"I pick the 1st choice" Nezu smiled brightly again "Wonderful! I'll go make a quick phone with a dear friend Of mine they already have 2 wonderful children you won't be that lonely! while the police will gather up your stuff! See you next week!" Nezu gave you a quick wave as you were escorted into the waiting room again

While you waited for your fate to come to started making conversation with Hawks more he was a pretty chill guy in your opinion kinda funny too but you didn't trust him at all just wanted company

"Eraserhead! So pleasure to meet you!" Nezu greeted the tried underground hero "It better be good nezu" Aizawa said "Well we caught the culprit! And it's a 14-year-old teen" Aizawa's eyes widen choking on his drink "A what?" "Yes yes, a 14-year-old They are very skilled and their quirk is fairly powerful water manipulation was their quirk" Aizawa couldn't believe his ears at the moment how could someone that young take down 5 of the best pro heroes? "And we decided they're going to stay with you and your family for the time being!"

"What..."

After a bit of convicting and deals with Nezu he reluctantly agreed he called Mic and asked if they had a spare bedroom and thank God they did, after signing some papers and agreement forms they gave you your stuff and gave you to him you were his and his husband's responsibility now...

The drive back to your new "home" was silent Aizawa processing everything like he just decided to take care of a vigilante teenager when they pulled up at the house he broke the silence "We're here" You glanced outside of the car window, outside was a fairly big house not so big but not small either just big enough to keep like a family of 5 in there and there was a small little garden in the front with pretty flowers

When the two of you walked to the doorstep you could hear a little girl giggling inside with cats meowing "You have cats?" You glanced at the pro "Yes 4 of them 2 girls and 2 boys is there a problem are you allergic?" You nodded your head sideways the two of you made it to the front door he glanced at you for a moment "You ready?" You took a deep breath and nodded

The door slowly opened and you were meeting with a very cozy environment the house looked very clean and tidy the living room was filled with some dolls a console under the TV stand and a cat sleeping on the couch "Shouta!! Your home" you were then met with a man with long blonde hair tied into a bun with an apron with cats on it the man over and kissed shouta on the cheek and then he met your gaze "Oh hello! You must be y/n aren't you?" He then a warm smile plastered on his face he took his hand out to shake as you were a bit hesitant to

"I... I know you might be a bit nervous cause you're going to be living with a bunch of random people for a "different" reason" but that doesn't mean me and my husband are gonna treat you any different than my kids!" he reassured you making you calmed down a bit "speaking of the kids! Hitoshi Eri come down here for a second!" Two kids were later revealed to you one with long white hair and red eyes with a red dress and boots and another kid that was close to your age with lavender hair with a white t-shirt and pants

"Now this little lady right here is y/n she will be living with us from now on!" Eri then did a small little wave with a shy smile as you did the same while Hitoshi lazily waved at you as well "Hi!" "Hey.." they both said as you did the same "now why don't you give y/n a house tour! While me and your father make dinner " The girl smiled brightly as she took your hand and excitedly leading you up the stairs shinsou following behind them as the couple chuckled to themselves

For the past 5 days you have been living with the eraser-mic family your bonds with each other got stronger each day

Aizawa can relate to you on a certain level so he doesn't judge you completely, honestly the more he spends time with you the more he thinks you are his kid, Aizawa would watch detective movies or investigation channels when everyone else sleeps on the couch with a half sleep dad and his very talkative child talking over the show and making theories but he doesn't mind, he prob would teach you a thing or two about the types of flowers in their backyard are they and do little scavenger hunts for you Shinso and eri to make yall bond a bit, he would also throw in random cat facts of the day whether be weird, funny or even disgusting

When your walk out the street if anyone looks at you the wrong way or talking he's sends a death glare in there way, when you comfortable enough he would give you hat pats here and there and

Hizashi would make you watch him cook and even let you help him at times! Which makes his heart warm he would practically do group hugs with his children always including you in it no leaving you out he loves to watch over each of his children whether be playing dolls with Eri or gaming with Shinsou even if you just doing nothing he watches over you and never gets bored he's the type of parent to even watch his children when he sleeps, he teaches you how to garden certain stuff like strawberries, raspberries, just anything you like!

But there are times when he can be overbearing when one of the sassy cats accidentally scratches you and Hizashi kinda freaks out running to get a band-aid and kissing it, he LOVES to spoil his kids so don't be surprised when he comes back with your favorite things!, Is very clingy he would give you big bear hugs

Shinsou was a bit suspicious of you at 1st didn't trust you at 1st but when you found out he was playing your favorite video game that's how the two of you bonded over each other, Shinsou and you would pull small pranks at the family, like swapping salt with sugar, making hizaahi accidentally dyed your hair and recording and the both of you laughed, he's very protective of his sister so seeing you and Eri get a lot makes his heart warm, if you ever tried to sneak and do something he would be a snitch or not it depends, very protective of you as well will glare at anyone you talked to

Eri is just the cutest of all she is just so excited that another girl is in the house she would beg you to wear her dresses (even tho they're too small) and do little tea parties with caramel(one of the cats) Shinsou and her, she loves to go put the garden and tells you all about the flowers and how pretty they are, heck even one day she saw a flower that looks just like you and said your as beautiful as this flower (it was a weed) but let's just say you kept it in your room for a while

And then there was the 1st day of school you had to wear a different type of uniform (basically a UA uniform but a bit darker like a darker gray basically)

Aizawa and Hizashi wanted to make your 1st day of school amazing so Hizashi made you your favorite lunch and snack with a sticky note saying "Have a great 1st day of school!" While Aizawa was giving you some simple rules-a-day tips about his classmates

1. No talking about vigilante stuff infront of them

2. No dating untill 34

3. Stay with Shinso at all times

4. Don't ever try to talk off the quirk canceling cuffs unless you have training (but don't worry you have good combat training even without your quirk)

5. If any of the classmates start bothering you let him know and etc

6. When we go in this building reframe to me and Hizashi as Mic and Mr. Aizawa or Sensei or present Mic

"And no dissing the Ua security system or telling anyone how to hack them," he said sternly looking at you "Aw but Mr shouta they do suck-" "I know the w kid but just brace with me here" he huffed "Fineeeee" You whined Mr Shouta wasn't any fun

Shinsou sadly couldn't walk you to your class because the two of you were gonna be in different classes but he told you to let him know if a grape dude came up to you flirting with you

When you arrived at the school you were gawked about how big the school was and groaned when you realized you had to walk "do this school have any elevators?" "No unfortunately we're gonna have to walk" "UGHHHUUH-"

When the rest of you got out of the car Nezu was in front of the entrance with a smile that looked a bit too excited "Ah y/n welcome! Why dont you follow me to your class" Nezu said leading you and Aizawa away, Eri, Hizashi, and Shinsou waved bye to you while eri held mic's hand

When the 3 of you were heading to class a couple of students looked at you with mixed expressions, some scared, some in envy, and some in awe at your appearance, but you didn't think any about it and just kept walking, you arrived at your class you stared up at the sign for a bit ignoring nezu's guide to the school untill he gently put a hand on your shoulder

"You ready to come in?" Nezu and Aizawa both stared at you for your answer You mentally prepared yourself and nodded, the door slid open as you walked into the class, the classmates were now silent and were now on you "Class please welcome our newest addition to the class please introduce yourself" you mentally rolled your eyes and placed yourself in the middle

"Hello my name is y/n l/n and im a proud vigilante and my quirk is water manipulation" "Wonderful! Now you go have a seat behind yaoyorozu san!" Then a girl with a ponytail raised her hand up as you walked towards your seat you felt every eye on you which made you uncomfortable momo gave you a little wave and you did the same

At lunch, you searched around to sit and you saw Shinso you walked towards him and sat at his table "Hey loser have fun " he teased you rolled your eyes "Ugh no class was so boring, I met with a couple of students a green hair, a frog girl, some girl with pink skin and some hot head blonde, was annoying me trying to me it was so overwhelming and your dad (hizashi) was so embarrassed waving to me with that cheesy grin on his face" shinso chuckled laughing at your "suffering "Well dad can be embrassing but he means well just at the wrong time"

It was training time and it was probably one of your favorite class periods, exercising was a piece of cake, and sparing oh SPARRING was the absolute favor you were up against the the boy who fried his brain every time he used his quirk named Denki he gave you a little wink which you rolled your eyes, everyone else staring at the two of you wondering what was gonna happen

"Sorry if I hurt you too bad princess~," he said as he blew a kiss at you, you faked a gag finding it funny while Aizawa glared at him causing Denki to gulp nervously, as the sparing began you lifted Denki the air and slammed him down you saw put him in several positions making him plead for mercy everyone else eyes were admired and were mesmerized by your skills that's when they all knew they wanted to get to know you by the end of the day

Timeskip cause I'm damn lazy asf

At the end of class, you quickly went into Aizawas car where the rest were waiting for you "Hey y/n how was school" You looked over to the two heroes Eri smiling at you with a candy apple in hand while Shinsou smiled eating up all the cute expressions you were making (as siblings shinsou is platonic) "...it was crazy"

Shouta, Hizashi, and Shinsou all snickered while you glared at all of them and eri was munching away at her treat "so how about we go out huh? "To celebrate your 1st day at school" eri smiled as she clapped her hands excitedly in her car seat "I wanna go to the {preferred restaurant}!" "Ah ah eri you picked last week lets give y/n a go!, so y/n what kind of restaurant you wanna go"

You stopped for a second and thought about it now realizing this was your fate for now you were gonna stay with a crazy family with a bunch of crazy students from now on you then blur out the answer "yea that restaurant seems nice.."

Shouta and Hizashi already had a strong bond with you, they already considered you as part of the family even Shinsou and Eri agreed they loved their new sister/daughter you were the family light in their life!

#yandere present mic #yandere hizashi #yandere bnha #yandere ua #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere mha #tw obsessive behavior #yandere class 1a #bnha fluff #yandere erasermic #yandere family #momo yaoyorozu #platonic yandere

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kittykattropicanna · 9 months

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my brain is absolute mush i am in love with him!!!! he tries to get you to send him more photos — and you more than happily oblige — and he guards them like his life depends on it. slowly starts to ask more personal questions, mostly trying to figure out if you have a partner and when he finds out you don’t? the game is on. starts using pet names in his letters here and there, drawing you in deeper and you’re so helpless against him. and then the calls start and he hears your voice and then it’s all he can think about. tries to get you to say certain things — especially his name — for him to tuck away for later when he’s alone with your photo and his hand on his cock and wishing more than anything to have you instead of his fist ):

he thinks himself a good person, all things considered. but knowing you, and knowing you’re out there? no protection, such a sweet and soft thing — it worries him. maybe he asks johnny to try and find you. doesn’t necessarily disclose his true intentions, mostly out of curiosity. but then he starts thinking of when he gets out, how he can meet you, bring you back to his place, knowing he’s the best one to keep you safe and so he uses his time to get a head start so when he’s out he can finally keep you ):

hyperventilating, screaming, projectile vomiting, this, this, this, THISSSSS,

The reason im soooo obsessed with your ask is because 1, you’re a fucking incredible writer and 2, you dived so deep into PrisonPenPal!Simon’s psyche, his such a smart dude and unbelievably manipulative when he needs to be…..

Sorry everyones!! asks are taking so long to get out!! I just want to go into the most detail possible and give everyones ideas justice!! if you're waiting, I promise you its in the works rn <3

TW: mentions of murder, jail, corruption kink, masterbation (Reader & Simon), public masterbation (kinda), phone sex, smut, manipulative!Simon and kinda stalker vibes I guess (not yandere)

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

If you think about his sentencing, he purposely played his cards in away that made him the victim without him actually having to act like the victim if that kinda makes sense?

The second he punched that kid he knew he fucked up bad, and then when he saw the blood seeping out of the kids skull and covering the floor, he knew he fucked up really bad.

A normal person would either run, go into hiding, try and resist the arrest, break down and have a panic attack. But he knew this wasn’t time for an emotional response, he needed to start planning what his next step was going to be and how he was going to execute it in a way that favoured him.

His not a psychopath, his 100% capable of feeling and experiencing human emotion and is very emotionally intelligent, but when he needs to be, his actions can be extremely calculated to the point its almost scary.

When he sees your picture though, something definitely clicks in his brain, he just wants more.

If that means more pictures or letters or even a phone call, he just needs it.

I think maybe its something primal as well… his a man at the end of the day, and being locked up for years in an all male prison with all male guards means he hasn’t even seen a women that isn’t a playboy model for fucking agessss

His not dumb either, he knows you put effort into taking that photo for him, he knows you put on a red bra because he told you his favourite colour was red. So the idea that maybe, just maybe you feel the same way, or are at least starting to, really erupts something in him.

But you’re completely right. He wouldn’t show a soul the photo you sent him. He’d go to drastic measures to hide everything :( you sent them to him, you’re writing to him, not anybody else,and he knows that if any of the other inmates found out about you, or god forbid, saw a photo of you, they would have an absolute field day.

He sees how the men his jailed with act when wives, sisters or girlfriends come to visit their loved ones.

He hears their disgusting comments about the women’s bodies, the detailed answers of what they would do if they ever got their hands on them. It always made his throat fill with bile and stomach twist.

Si may not be a perfect man, but talking like that about another mans women? His above that.

Thinking about how they would say the same things about you, how’d they’d all pass the photo around with a dirty smirk on their face and snicker? He wasn’t having that, over his dead fucking body.

He writes back to you keeping it relatively normal, lighthearted and friendly, but he sneaks in a little

“Ya’ boyfriend probably isn’t over the moon ya’ writtin’ someone like me, aye? I mean, if my missus was writin’ to a felon I’d blow my fuckin’ top love, theres gotta’ be somthin’ out there better for ya’ to been doin’, readin’ a book or somthin’ like that. It was lovely puttin’ a face to a name, just seein’ someone so happy makes me smile”

Receiving his letter makes your heart sore, you made him smile.

Obviously you had to send him more photos right? You just wanted to make him smile…. right? :(

You definitely didn’t want to send more because your pussy clenched when he called you “love”

Its definitely not because he was so protective over you, knowing he was so worried about your well-being, always asking if you're doing okay, asking if you’re safe…

“I worry bout’ you out there lovie, ya' gotta keep safe, look after ya’ self”

Getting your friends to help you take more photos for him!!!

Maybe you force them to go on a hike with you… you wear those leggings that make your arse look fantastic, posing in front of a nice view and purposely sticking out your cute little bum, subtly showing it off to the camera…. Showing it off to him :((((

But its just to show him the view!!!!! He hasn’t seen a nice landscape in years!! He deserves it!!

You’re not a dirty girl :( you’re a good girl!! You would never do something so disgusting for a man who’s locked in jail, your daddy would be so disappointed if he knew you were sticking out your arse for a man like Si >:(

Calling over your ex-situationships so they can fuck you, your dildo wasn’t enough anymore, you needed the real thing….you needed Si, but obviously you can’t have him, right? There’s no possible way you could ever experience your biggest fantasy….right?

So other men will just have to do :(((

Having them hold you down and fuck your pussy mediocrely, closing your eyes trying to imagine Si :( maybe even moaning his name accidentally…..

Its never really that enjoyable though, all you can think about is how Si would fill you so much better…technically, you have no evidence to prove that, but his such a gentlemen!! He knows how to speak to a women…he must know how to fuck one as well!!!

It only makes sense….

It makes you so sad… he’d never think about you the same way you think about him >:(

He’d never fantasies about your sloppy cunt the way you fantasies about licking up his fat cock, teasing his tip and ruining your throat as he shoves his meaty dick down it :(((

Rubbing your swollen clit on your pillow as you moan for him, maybe even looking at the grainy photo of his face while you pleasure yourself :(( you’re so disgusting for him, so needy, he would never want a girl as yucky as you….

When Si receives your next letter informing him that you don’t have a boyfriend as well as a photo of you posing for him, that’s when the obsession really begins :3

His not obsessed on a yandere level but his definitely deep into it :)

He never really thought about what he would do after he got out, he always kinda just guessed that he would go back to his old ways, but now he has you very obviously showing some type of interest in him, his mind is fucking racing!!!

Maybe he can get your number and use his monthly call to talk to you, maybe you can come visit him while his still locked up, maybe you’ll be willing to have him when his out, maybe you can move in together, maybe he’ll marry you, maybe he’ll finally get to fuck that sweet little pussy that his been fantasising about, maybe…maybe…..maybe..Ahhhhh!!!

Stealing sponges and a rubber glove when his on cleaning duty :((((

Bargaining with his prison mates for hair ties and an empty Pringles can so he can make his own makeshift fleshlight :(((

Fucking his fat dick with it while his eyes focus on your arse, imagining his got you in doggy and fucking you stupid:((( Maybe even putting his pillow in front of him and pretending its your arse, squeezing and spanking it >:(((

His corruption kink is feral…he knows his a lowlife with nothing good ahead of him, his more then aware that for the rest of his life his going to be labeled as a murderer, but the idea of him taking a pretty little thing like you and pulling you down with him makes him cum so hard his thick juicy thighs shake, fleshlight filling up with his cum and quite moans falling from his mouth >: (((

He doesn’t know were it came from, he just wants you to be with him and he knows he’ll never be able to live the white collar lifestyle you so obviously enjoy.

The idea of taking you out of that world and reeling you into his consumes him. Shitty one bedroom apartment, cardboard boxes as bed side tables, stained carpet and a flickering kitchen lightbulb. Its almost feeds his cocky superiority complex. Being able to pull a beautiful doll like you, get you so obsessed and needy for him that you’d follow him to the shit hole he calls home.

Being so obedient, so willing, that you give up everything you’ve worked for just to submit to him…..

Receiving that sweet little letter excites the fuck out of him, don’t get me wrong, but it also scares him a little, his protective instincts kick in a bit.

If you’re one thing, its a little naive.

You’re so willing to give up sensitive information about yourself without a second thought, you’re very obviously extremely vulnerable and trusting….

As much as he wants to protect you, he also sees these personality traits to be extremely beneficial to him.

You’re very easy to reel in after the line is crossed from polite and friendly to more flirtatious and maybe even a little bit sexual.

He addresses you differently in his letters now, no longer just using your name and actively being more outwardly affectionate towards you

“Hello my sweet girl :)”

and

“been on my mind lot’ lately, been thinkin’ about you, thinkin’ all sorts of things I know I shouldn’t ;)”

Once that barriers broken and your letters are just as enthusiastic, he knows his got you.

His got you to a point that he knows asking for a phone call isn’t a risky move anymore :3

He plans it though, he knows exactly what his going to do on that phone call and he knows nobody can be around while his doing it.

Like I mentioned in the first fic, his sentence was reduced because of his good behaviour, this obviously means his on good terms with the guards and most of the other inmates. They all owe him a favour in one way or another. He hadn’t asked for his good deeds to be returned, not needing them to be……until now.

He writes to you deciding on a date and time, Thursday at 3am.

He wanted to be alone when he talked to you, have some privacy and not be bothered.

His on really good terms with the night guard who works Thursdays, with just a little bit of bribing, he could be let out and have his phone call with you alone.

“Listen mate, ya’ want to know who’s movin’ drugs in and out of this joint? I can tell ya’ with no worries, but I need ya’ to do me a solid favour”

The guard his reluctant of course, but like I mentioned, Simon can be calculated when he wants to be

“Magin’ the raise you’d get if ya’ could give ya’ bosses that information? I saw ya had a photo of a little girl on ya car keys, think bout all the toys n’ shit you could buy er’ with some extra cash”

And obviously, he got what he wanted, it was light work really ;)

As 3am slowly got closer, you were shitting yourself, lets be real. It was hard to wrap your head around Si being an actual person, you know? Like of course his real, but it was all becoming a reality now….

You were three large glasses of wine in when it was time to call.

When your phone started to ring from an unknown number, you swore your heart dropped :((

The call almost rang out before you got the courage to answer it :(

When you did a very deep, rough voice with a heavy Manchester accent answered, you could hear the smirk through the phone, a confident “hello sweetheart” to match :(

His voice had your breath catch for a minute….of course you’d come up with your own idea of what he would sound like, but never in a million years did you think he would sound so charming, so confident, filled with anticipation, like he had been waiting for this moment for weeks…like he had thought of you the same way you thought about him :(((

It made your tummy swirl, that all too familiar hot ache feeling buzz in your clit :3333

On the other end of the line Si gently stroked his throbbing cock as you said your hellos :((

Your voice was even more memorising then he imagined, sweet little nervous giggles as you spoke to him, quietly letting him know that you weren’t quite sure what to say, that you were a little on edge, maybe a little excited.

You could hear his laboured breath through the phone, a distant wet sound that you couldn’t describe, so quite that you didn’t know if it was real or just your preverted mind playing tricks on you, making you hear things that aren’t really there :(

Just the sound of your voice was driving Si crazy :( you’re just as sweet as he imagined you, maybe even sweeter

He knew it was wrong of him :(

He knew that asking you to join his little game was evil. He had you right were he wanted you, and asking you to play with your pussy for him on the other end of the phone while directing you on how to finger yourself as he fucks his girthy cock with his hand wasn’t what you deserved…..

But he couldn’t help himself, not when you were talking to him like that, so innocent and sweet :(((

“Sweetheart, I need ya’ to do me a favour darlin’, okay? His cock was so hard it hurt, voice out of breath and sweat dripping down his brow. You were within arms reach, so close but yet so far away.

“Slide ya’ hand into your panties baby, start playin’ with yourself, come on, tell me what you're doin, describe it to me”

You so easily obliged, so willing to please him :( agreeing nervously with a stutter and shaky breath as you tell him what your doing

Describing to him what you’re wearing, an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath :( telling him you didn’t put panties on just for him :(

You let out a quite moan as you play with your tits, telling him how hard your nipples are, squeezing the pebbles and whining as he eggs you on

“That’s it baby, play with those tits for me, yeah?, that’s my girl, squeeze em’ for me, there ya’ go” Si had to lean himself against the phone box as his tip leaked with pre cum :((((

Using it to lubricate his vainy cock making the wet sounds louder through the phone, you whine louder at the thought of his cock, closing your eyes you trail your hand down to your panties and slowly slip underneath the fabric to play with your wet cunt, just like Si asked:(((

“Rub ya’ clit for me baby, tell me how good I make you feel, say ma’ name, say it” he wanted so badly to commit it to memory, lock it away for later >:(

You moan his name as you circle your clit, eyes shut as you imagine Si doing it for you instead. You chant his name while your back arches a little, pleasure building at the sound of his rough grunts and wet cock being pumped through the phone >:((((

“I know, I know sweetheart’ just hold on a little longer for me, yeah? That’s ma’ good girl, ya’ not cumin’ yet” his hand fisted his cock, squeezing himself as tight as possible and screwing his eyes shut trying to imagine he was fucking your wet pussy, not his callused hand rough and dirty from the weights he was lifting early that day :(

“Finger ya’ cunt baby, finger ya’ cunt and scream ma’ name”

You were dangerously close to the edge, the knot in your tummy tightening by the second, your once nervous moans now turned unashamed.

Taking your other hand and slipping it into your pussy, you let out a desperate whine, muling your hips as you pumped yourself, squelching noises matching Si’s as you abused your wet pussy :((((

“That’s ma’ perfect girl, that’s it. Come on, let go for me, let me hear those gorgeous moans”

Finally letting the coil snap your back arched like a cat, legs shaking as you moan his name, desperate whimpers as tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks

Si gritted his teeth as he pumped himself, ropes of his sperm painting the concrete wall in front of him as his heavy cock twitched in his hands, animalistic grunts falling from his lips as that feral pleasure he’d been chasing washed over him. :((

He’d never cum that hard in his life, vision blurry from the white hot pleasure with your heavy breaths in the background :3

Just as he was about to open his mouth, speak to you again, the phone cut out, he had used up all his time with you :(

Harsh beeps filling his ear as his cock slowly softened, tip bright red from the attention…

He needed you more then ever now, protective instinct going through the roof :(

Knowing you’re out there all alone with nobody to keep you safe made his blood boil…..

He needed to have a set of eyes on you, the constant letters weren’t enough anymore :((((

Maybe there was a bit of jealously as well, the thought that there may be someone else….

It drove him up the wall, made him feel rage he had only felt very few times in his life

If he couldn’t have his eyes on you, then he’d 100% send Johnny out to do the work for him.

Looking through your letters and highlighting when you mentioned the name of the cafe you went to every morning, the name of the bar you and your co-workers went to every Friday to celebrate the end of the week.

Of course he wouldn’t tell Johnny the truth, simply asking him to keep an eye on an “old friend that’s going through a rough time” while his locked up for the rest of his sentence :(

And Johnny obliged, happy that Simon was in contact with people that weren’t just 141.

Reporting back to him every week, always with a positive review :)

A soft thing like you cant be left to fend for yourself sweetheart, not in a world like this. But don’t worry, his got your back, even behind bars ;)

RAHHHHHHHH, him, my mind is filled with HIM

PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

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imfoive · 1 month

Text

The Youngest Son - Chapter 5

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: tw-descriptions of overdose, mentions of drugs, cursing, death, physical assault, somewhat proofread WC: 4.6k A/N: A longer part! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ────────────────────

Lee Jihoon, the fourth son of the Lee family, had always done his best to dodge his responsibilities. But as time went on, the weight of those responsibilities caught up with him, leaving him cornered and unable to live as he pleased.

At thirty years old, he found himself bowing to his younger brother, Minho.

Jihoon had once been a bully, taunting Minho, pushing him around, and following the example set by his older siblings. Yet, despite the years that had passed, he still struggled to understand why they had treated Minho so poorly. Minho might have been a consequence of their father’s mistakes, but Jihoon wondered why he, along with his older siblings, had been so unkind. But having spent years away from his family, Jihoon’s perspectives had diverged. He’d avoided their narrow-minded views and had come to see Minho in a different light. Now, he genuinely believed that Minho deserved the respect he had earned.

But despite it all, even though Jihoon had been working under Minho for a year, they weren’t particularly close. The constant comparisons between them only served to emphasize Jihoon’s shortcomings in the eyes of others. Whispers about the brothers echoed through the office.

“He’s older, but his younger brother is an executive?”

“V.P. Lee is always cleaning up after his brothers.”

Despite the gossip, Jihoon had grown accustomed to it. The scrutiny was nothing new. But, there was one thing the two brothers had in common.

Lee Jihoon hated L Corp.

Then there was the eldest of the three brothers, Joohyeon.

Once favored by their father, Joohyeon had fallen from grace after a series of failures. His latest misstep was so severe that it prompted a swift and harsh decision, his position as Vice President was bestowed to Lee Minho and he was suddenly sent off to Japan.

Joohyeon had always been the pride of his parents, overshadowed only by his older cousin Jungshin, who had shown exceptional promise from a young age. Being the second child in the Lee household meant Joohyeon was constantly compared to his cousin. But Jihoon’s carefree nature and disinterest in academics inadvertently made Joohyeon stand out in a positive light. He was always thankful for the kid’s naivety. Jihoon would cause trouble, and Joohyeon would try to diminish the anger in his parents. Like a good son.

And he was a good son for a while.

When Lee Minho was brought into the household, Joohyeon was old enough to understand the implications of being illegitimate. He absorbed his mother’s prejudices and mirrored her behavior, smiling at Minho in public while harboring resentment behind closed doors.

Lee Joohyeon had long prided himself on being the dutiful son, always striving to please his parents even though he consistently came second to Lee Jungshin.

However, Joohyeon failed to recognize Minho and his capabilities.

Over time, Minho’s ascent was swift but discreet, the older brother failed to notice that the youngest of the brothers came for his place. And quickly took over.

When Chairman Lee first compared Minho to Joohyeon, he was bewildered but brushed it off. Then came a second time, and a third and then persisted.

Lee Minho was smarter than him, Lee Minho was better than him.

Lee Minho was a scapegoat for his dimwit older brother.

He was the dimwit older brother.

Then came the incident last year that made him fall. Fall hard.

Those damn messages.

Initially, they were merely taunting and annoying, which Joohyeon brushed off without much concern. However, the messages soon escalated in intensity and became very specific. They began to delve into Joohyeon’s past misdeeds, his personal failures, his inadequacies. Whoever was sending these messages seemed to have intimate knowledge of his life, causing Joohyeon to become increasingly cautious and jittery.

The thirty-two year old found himself under constant stress, plagued by nightmares and a sense of unease. He was always on edge, as the messages continued to haunt him, revealing secrets he had hoped to keep buried.

Joohyeon’s cousins would mock him, joking that he couldn’t handle the workload and accusing him of trying too hard. Their taunts cut deep, echoing the criticisms he received from the mysterious sender of the threatening texts. He would scrutinize their smug expressions, wondering if one of them could be the messenger behind the unsettling messages. And when Joohyeon attempted to trace the origins of the threatening messages, he encountered a frustrating pattern. The messages always originated from different locations, as if the sender anticipated his every move.

So he turned to his youngest brother.

Lee Minho was the one who always managed to get these kinds of tasks done. They only thought about the youngest son when they needed something.

Of course, Minho happily obliged.

When the youngest began his investigation, the frequency of the threatening messages noticeably dwindled over the course of a few weeks. It seemed as though the sender had grown cautious. Of course, since Minho was on his hunt. Joohyeon let his guard down.

A dimwit indeed.

During one of Grandfather Lee’s elaborate family dinners, which he insisted on hosting every time he returned from a trip, Minho seized an opportunity to pull Joohyeon aside.

“The messages are coming from L Corp. Headquarters.” Minho disclosed quietly.

Joohyeon blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the revelation. Before he could inquire further, dinner resumed, drawing their attention back to the bustling dining room.

Everyone seemed to be there, everyone except Jungshin.

But only a few minutes later, the eldest grandson walked through the dining room entrance, smiling.

“Apologies Grandfather, I had to send an important message.”

“At least you’re here.” The old man nodded approvingly, his gaze shifting to Jihoon, who was reluctantly present with his eyes fixed on his cellphone.

Jihoon’s mother nudges her younger son, who rolls his eyes and sets his phone down.

Everyone engages in their own little conversation.

Joohyeon’s phone dinged.

As his eyes scanned the bright screen, his world seemed to freeze. A chill ran down his spine as he read the message

Why did you do it?

And this time, the sender wasn’t anonymous. It wasn’t an unknown number that went dead when he tried to call back. No, this time there was a name attached to the sender. Joohyeon’s stomach churned, a feeling of nausea rising within him.

The boisterous laughter from Jungshin snapped him back to reality. Joohyeon blinked, feeling dazed as he glanced around at each family member seated in the room before his gaze froze back onto his screen.

“Have you heard about Y/N Park and rumors of her American boyfriend?” Jungshin stated loudly, his gaze was fixed pointedly on Minho, clearly aiming to elicit a reaction.

Minho remained composed, recognizing Jungshin’s attempt to provoke him. With a calm demeanor, he shifted the conversation away easily, like he had always done.

“I see my brother is more interested in gossip than business. Have you begun preparing for the conference this weekend?” Minho replied evenly, a polite smile spreading across his face as he lifted his gaze from his food.

The smirk on Jungshin’s face quickly vanished, replaced by a hint of anger as he leaned forward, ready to retort. However, his mother intervened, gripping his hand firmly to silence him.

“There’s no reason for us to talk about the Parks or Y/N, is there? She’s no longer engaged into this family, nor is she on good terms with Minho. Isn’t that right, Minho?” Jungshin’s mom interjected firmly.

Grandfather Lee cleared his throat, prompting his older daughter-in-law to sit back and compose herself.

“The business deal we had with the Parks was only hindered briefly. Any sane businessman won’t just shelve a forty billion dollar project.” Mooyoung stated matter-of-factly, continuing to eat his food.

Jungshin laughs, leaning in “Since the contents of the project are all out in the open now. My fam—Our family, should find another way to make personal ties with the Parks again.”

He quickly corrects his sentence for insinuating that there were two families within the Lee family. Although it was a true statement. There were two families. The older son and the younger sons of Chairman Lee. It was supposed to be kept unsaid.

Grandfather Lee continued eating, showing disinterest in the business discussions his grandsons were initiating.

“And what exactly are you thinking?” Minho’s mother asked, one brow raising curiously.

“Like it was planned from the beginning. But this time, we’ll choose someone who can correctly do his part.”

Jookshin finally perks into their conversation.

“Who here is a good option? Jihoon who would rather jump off a cliff, Minho who ruined his relations with Y/N, or Joohyeon, who looks like he’s not even in this world?” She directed her glance towards Joohyeon, seated at the end of the table, still engrossed in his phone.

“Me.” Jungshin’s laughter filled the room.

For the first time that night, Minho’s usually composed demeanor darkened with a hint of displeasure.

“Brother, don’t you think you’re a little too old?” Jihoon finally chimed in, showing interest in their ongoing conversation.

“Why? I’m not divorced, I’m the eldest son, and I actually have a good reputation.” Jungshin retorted confidently

“Does Y/N mind an eleven year age difference?” Someone asks, and all eyes are on Minho.

The youngest in the room glances at every single face, then looks at Joohyeon, who had long disassociated, and his grandfather who continued eating as if he was all by himself.

Minho clears his throat, placing his fork and knife down.

“Miss Park doesn’t have a preference when it comes to age. As long as you give her the attention she craves. But…she particularly fancies handsome men.” He glances.

There is silence in the room after Minho stops speaking. Jihoon snorts, stifling back a laugh.

“I guess even our eldest brother doesn’t make the cut then huh?” He cackles, his father glares at him and he quickly covers his mouth, chuckling silently.

It was true, Jungshin had lots of attributes, but when it came to looks, he fell behind all his brothers.

“Plastic surgery can’t be passed through genetics son.” Jihoon’s mother comments, an indirect jab at her sister-in-law, a former beauty pageant contestant.

“Father, what do you think?” Mooyoung asks his father.

Chairman Lee gets the final attention from his family.

“Mooyoung, Doyoung. I think I called you all here for family dinner. Not the discussion of business marriage.” He simply states, not looking up from his almost complete dinner.

Both his sons straighten in their seats, sharing uneasy glances.

“I’m going to go rest.” He states, placing down his utensils.

The sound of the chair being pushed against the floor, brings Joohyeon back to a dinner he completely zoned out of. Seeing his grandfather exit, he quickly stands as well.

“Sorry, I have something important to tend to.” He glances at Minho, signaling him to follow.

And like that three people are gone from the dinner table.

“Why does he look so spooked?” Jookshin comments, getting back to her food.

Jungshin’s phone buzzes and he excuses himself as well.

Entering the living room, Minho found his brother staring wide-eyed at his phone, on the brink of a panic attack. The older brother’s shock was evident, his hands trembling as he finally handed over the device to Minho. The screen was filled with threatening texts and screenshots.

“Brother, just exactly what—”

Before Minho could finish, the sound of Jungshin’s snickers echoed from the hallway. The eldest brother, stepped into the room, his eyes still fixed on his phone. Seeing Jungshin’s amused expression, laughing with his phone in his hand, Joohyeon makes his own connections and completely loses it.

“It’s you isn’t it?” Joohyeon growled, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. Without waiting for a response, he lunged at his older cousin, tackling him to the ground.

The loud bangs from the living room echoed into the dining hall, drawing everyone’s attention. For a moment, they exchanged puzzled looks before rushing to the scene. In the living room, Minho and the servants struggled to keep the older Lee brothers from attacking each other.

“What the hell is going on?!” Lee Mooyoung shouted, his voice filled with frustration.

The fighting brothers froze, their eyes shifting to Jungshin’s father and the rest of the family gathered at the entrance.

“Father, this idiot has gone crazy. He attacked me like a rabid dog.” Joohyeon spat, bloodied and enraged, glared back at Joohyeon as he struggled to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose.

The rabid dog in question fell silent, staring at the dark carpet he was on, slowly he sat up and pushed back his hair. His face was decorated nicely with signs of his fight.

Minho also stood back, hands behind him as well.

Their father studied them both, his anger palpable.

“You two, follow me to my study. Now!” He commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Jungshin, still fuming, interjected. “What about what he did to me, Uncle?”

“I’ll deal with it.” Doyoung muttered, cutting off any further protest from the eldest.

Before Jungshin could push the matter, his own father silenced him with a stern look.

Upon entering their father’s study, the sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room, striking the already frantic and wounded Joohyeon. Minho froze by the closed study door, standing rigidly as he had been back in the living room.

“Have you gone mad?!” Their father bellowed, his voice filled with fury.

He glared at Joohyeon, who was holding his cheek with both hands, his face a mask of pain and humiliation. Doyoung’s anger shifted as he approached Minho, grabbing his jaw to inspect a red gash on his face, evidence of his involvement in the altercation.

“And you’ve managed to get your younger brother involved in it as well.” Doyoung continued, his eyes scrutinizing Minho’s injury.

Joohyeon’s face hardened with resentment. Despite his own injuries being more severe, their father’s concern was clearly focused on Minho’s minor scratch. No matter how much Joohyeon needed Minho’s assistance, he could never bring himself to like him.

“Why did he do that? Is he drunk?” Their father demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory.

The question wasn’t directed at the hysterical Joohyeon, but rather at Minho. The youngest son glanced between the men, hesitant to speak, waiting for his brother to give him a sign.

“Don’t look at him!” Doyoung snapped.

Minho looks down, nodding.

“Brother has been receiving some malicious messages lately.” Minho began. “He wanted me to find out who was behind them.”

He glanced at Joohyeon, who was still looking at the floor, his hand pressed to his cheek.

“I haven’t identified the culprit yet, but the messages seem to originate from our company. Joohyeon might have suspected Brother Jungshin was behind it, which is why—”

“You fool!” Their father cut him off, his voice dripping with frustration, head snapped to glare at Joohyeon.

“How can you just point out a culprit without concrete evidence? Don’t you have even that much common sense?” The father’s anger was undiminished.

“You could have waited for Minho to find the evidence before taking such reckless action, especially in front of the family. You’re lucky your grandfather wasn’t here.”

Lee Doyoung pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think through how to address his children’s missteps. But still, his gaze softened as he considered Joohyeon’s distressed state.

“What were the contents of the messages?” He asked, directing his question at Joohyeon, who remained silent. Seeing which, only fueled Doyoung’s anger further.

“You, tell me what those damn messages were about!” He demanded, turning to Minho, whose confused expression indicated he had little information.

“I… don’t know the exact contents but they are threatening and taunting. As if they knew a dark secret.” Minho glanced at Joohyeon, who was now clenching his fists tightly, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and fear.

Doyoung’s gaze softened with concern as he looked at his guilty son. Sensing something was amiss.

“Minho, you can go now. Take care of your face. You need to be presentable for the conference this weekend.” He instructed, his eyes never leaving Joohyeon, who looked on the verge of breaking down.

As Minho exited, the study door clicked shut behind him. Silence lingered for a brief moment before Doyoung’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Show me the messages.”

Joohyeon’s hands shook as he retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Doyoung took it, his eyes widening in shock as he scrolled through the threatening messages and screenshots. His expression shifted to one of profound concern and worry.

“J-Joohyeon, just what have you done?”

Joohyeon’s face contorted as he cried, suddenly grasping his father’s wrists. He broke down, his composure shattering as his face scrunched up in a mix of desperation and fear. The phone slipped from Doyoung’s hand and fell to the floor with a loud thud, its screen darkening as it lay there, forgotten.

“Father. I…I killed Jae.” He cried.

Minho walked out of the Main Residence, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he glanced at his watch, noting the time as he descended the stairs toward his car, parked nearby. A faint smirk played on his lips, a sense of satisfaction evident in his demeanor.

“The next message should’ve been sent by now.” He muttered to himself, his smirk widening.

Just then, Joohyeon’s phone, forgotten on the ground of his father’s study, dinged with the arrival of a new message.

It was from “Jae”.

Brother, why did you kill me?

“You bastard, just what did you do!?” Doyoung was upset, the backhanded slap had Joohyeon tumbling backwards onto his father’s desk, his already beat-up face bruising even more.

“I didn’t mean to father!” He gets on his knees, grabbing his father’s legs.

“Please father save me. I made a mistake. I just wanted to find out about the secret deal like you wanted. I was doing as you tasked me to. I didn’t mean to kill him.” He cries hysterically.

His father grabs him by the collar, pulling his back up.

“Minho was able to find out about that damn deal. And he didn’t have to kill anyone.” He mutters, pushing his son back.

The old man runs his hand through his hair, trying to figure out what could be done. He was pissed and extremely upset but he didn’t want his son to be punished.

“I’ll have Minho deal with the messenger. You have to lie low for a while, go abroad. I’ll give the V.P. position to Minho.” His father states, mind still wracking.

Hearing about his position being taken away from him, the older son’s head shoots up.

“No father, you can’t. Not to Minho.”

His father glares at him, pushing him back onto the desk.

“You have no say anymore. Keep quiet and listen to me if you don’t want to end up paying for your crimes.

Minho replayed the video again. And again it showed Joohyeon and Jae, the night the younger man died. It took him a year, but the youngest Lee was able to retrieve the footage from the compromised Yacht CCTV.

It’s the same video evidence of an already high Jae lounging over his lines of cocaine. Joohyeon shoots him up with more drugs, once. Twice. Three times.

The footage clearly shows the shock that Jae’s body goes through, figure spazzing, Joohyeon freaking out.

Foaming at the mouth, Jae falls still.

And the older cousin is frozen. He gets close, nudging him, shaking him. The older man checks for a pulse, immediately falling back in shock after realizing that his younger cousin was dead. He moves his body back and glances around, then looks up, spotting the CCTV in the corner. He approaches it. And the screen goes jittery.

Minho rewinds. Screenshotting again.

The incident had stripped the older brother of his title.

Joohyeon was sent abroad. And coincidentally Minho had “dealt” with the messenger, getting rid of the evidence. The youngest son was promoted, and Lee Jihoon has suddenly become a member of his team.

What a combination those two made.

The stoic younger brother who smiled politely when appropriate and the messy older brother who goofed around whenever he could.

Although, everyone still wondered exactly what made Jihoon come back to assist in L Corp. when he hated it so much.

Summers faded into winters, and time marched on relentlessly for Lee Minho. Despite the passage of seasons, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of success.

Promotions came, and he took on ambitious projects, solidifying his reputation as the “youngest prodigy” at the company. His cousins were jealous, uncle and aunt hating him a little more every passing day. His mother still despised him, his brothers barely spoke to him. His grandfather continued to dote on him. But Minho always returned to an empty and dark apartment.

He lacked friends and acquaintances, choosing instead to immerse himself fully in his work.

If Lee Minho claimed he didn’t miss Y/N’s presence by his side, he would be lying. Sometimes, as he entered the familiar apartment complex, he harbored a fleeting hope that around the next corner, he would find her leaning against his door, just as she always used to, patiently waiting for him.

But she wasn’t.

She was in New York. And had been for the past two years.

And despite Lee Minho’s desire to stay under the radar and avoid unnecessary attention, his continuous excellence in his career made it impossible to escape the spotlight. As he climbed higher in his professional life, the inevitable admiration and attention from others became overwhelming. And suddenly he found himself at an age where the topic of marriage seemed to buzz around him in whispers.

Young ladies sought his attention eagerly, drawn by his success and status. They would throw themselves at him, hoping to capture his interest and secure a future with a man of his caliber. However, Minho’s lack of reciprocation and genuine disinterest proved to be a significant barrier. It was a repeating cycle, women intrigued by his achievements would initially pursue him ardently, only to grow tired of his reserved demeanor and lack of enthusiasm.

That’s how that morning ended.

The granddaughter of one of Chairman Lee’s fishing buddies had left their breakfast abruptly, clearly disheartened. She hadn’t even waited for their drinks to cool. Lee Minho stared down at his steaming coffee, thoughts swirling in his mind.

In moments like these, he couldn’t help but reflect on his younger self from Australia.

That Minho possessed a drive for revenge and destruction. A boldness and sincerity that seemed to have faded over the years.

That Minho would’ve listened to his grandfather’s guidance. He would have pursued this girl earnestly, made her fall for him and perhaps even propose marriage. He would’ve gotten a closer step to his goals.

But the Minho of today was different.

He was accustomed to wearing masks, and likely would have kept that mask on even if he married this girl, and suddenly the thought of it made him frown.

The one person Lee Minho didn’t need to put on a facade for was across the world.

He laughed at himself, reaching for his drink.

The next time Minho heard about Y/N was when he had gone to New York for an overseas meeting, a year and some months after his promotion. Jihoon was with him and they were staying at one of The Rose Hotels, at the lobby Jihoon had looked around and asked Minho.

“Did you know Y/N is staying in the penthouse of this location?”

Minho signs at the reception for check-in, looking at Jihoon at the mention of her name.

“She’s always promoting this location through her socials.” He leans back onto the top of the reception desk, waiting for his room key.

“Do you want to grab dinner with her? I can call her.” The older brother brings out his phone, and Minho thanks the receptionist behind the counter, taking their key-cards.

“I don’t want to. Have fun.” He responded blankly, sticking Jihoon’s room card into the chest pocket of his jacket, before walking away.

Jihoon sighed, shaking his head at his boring brother.

“The rumors were true then. They definitely aren’t friends anymore huh?” The older brother speaks to himself.

And Minho doesn’t hear about her from others again.

Six more months, and Y/N was officially gone for two and a half years. Though news of her return in a week was going around. It doesn’t take long for the whispers to reach the workaholic executive’s ears. Though he doesn’t show any reaction to the news, any signs of interest in her or her return, his heart beating rapidly says otherwise.

Minho couldn’t wait to see her.

Two days before Y/N Park’s return was Minho’s birthday. Despite the obligatory wishes from his team and messages flooding in, the day felt mundane and unremarkable to him. Birthdays had lost their sparkle long ago, becoming instead a reminder of his father's infidelity and the ensuing family discord.

Around his birthday, his mother’s disapproving remarks seemed sharper, his aunt and cousins’ disdain more palpable. It was a time when Minho felt the weight of his family’s judgment more acutely.

It was around his birthday that he wanted to ruin even more than he did the day before.

But Minho had not always spent his birthdays alone. From the age of sixteen to twenty-five, Y/N had been a constant presence by his side. Whether she was dragging him reluctantly to events or surprising him with unexpected visits, she had always managed to bring a touch of brightness to his otherwise somber birthday celebrations. Her absence now only amplified the emptiness he felt on this day.

Ha.

He chuckled wryly to himself as he parked his car in the apartment complex lot.

Minho walked into his apartment, exchanging his shoes for house slippers. His eyes froze on the pair of black heels neatly placed next to his own shoes on the shelf. The distant strains of The Birthday Song played on a piano instrumental, drifted to him from the living room.

Cautiously, he took a few steps down the corridor, his mind racing.

He froze at the entrance, jacket in hand, his eyes locking onto the figure twirling gracefully in his living room.

There she was, Y/N.

She wore nothing but a men’s dress shirt, an image both familiar and unexpected.

“~Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday my Minho. Happy Birthday to you!~” Y/N sang, her voice filling the room with a mix of familiarity and surprise.

She paused her twirling and approached Minho, her arms snaking around his neck to pull him closer, a wide smile on her lips as she enjoyed his surprise.

“What-when did you arrive?” Minho managed to ask, his voice a mix of surprise and delight, his lips curling into a surprised smile as he processed her sudden presence in his living room.

He glanced around the room, taking in the loosely decorated birthday decor. The balloons by the window, fairy lights twinkling, and a birthday cake with a candle waiting to be lit and blown out.

Clearly taken aback, Minho’s surprise prompted Y/N to giggle, eyes sparkling with amusement. A finger rested on his chin before she playfully flicked, eliciting a low chuckle from him. A genuine, cheesy grin that he couldn’t control taking over his stunned expression.

“Did you miss me, Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23

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mouse-of-dimitrescu · 10 months

Text

𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 🎄 #𝟽 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ( 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚐𝚊𝚢𝚢𝚜 )

The Dripping Prayer ( TW NSFW )

I DONT WANT ANYONE TRIGGERED OR ANYTHING BY READING THIS ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: mentions of religion, chapel-based, semi-public sex, TW for religiously traumatised babes, lesbian sex, mentions of confessions, guilt, being a pariah, finger-fucking, eating out, rainstorm.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

You stood in the chapel. It was a Tuesday and the afternoon was due for arainstorm. You sat on the wooden bench in the front and twiddled your thumbs. You didn't know why you were sitting in the chapel or twiddling your thumbs like some depressed old man about to be executed for murdering his ex wife. Nevermind. Your thoughts rambled on until you heard loud footsteps coming from behind you. You turned to see your next door neighbour, Jane Murdstone walk through the arched doorway, boldly looking around and eventually turning her glance towards you.

" Miss Murdstone." You greeted, standing up and looking back at her.

She approached you. Her footsteps never failing to produce a sound of daunting rhythm. " Good afternoon, what brings you here?" She asked, taking off her gloves and hat. You smiled, watching her actions.

" Shelter from the storm. I'd like to say but I don't really know.

Jane nodded and looked at you up and down for a brief moment. " A storm? I hope not. I walked here."

" As did I." You nodded and sat back down. Surprisingly, Jane took a seat next to you and you both gazed at the stained glass. Just then, the rain began pouring down and you let out a small groan. " There it is." You chuckled.

" Well, we wil have to stay here until the storm passes. Where is the priest? I actually came to have a word with him." Jane said, looking around.

" Oh, he went out just as I walked in. He had business to attend to I think."

" What business?" Jane looked to you.

You shrugged. " I don't know. What did you want to speak to him about?" You asked, sitting up properly in your seat.

" Just a few confessions. I'm burdened by then and I need his assistance." Jane explained shortly, not caring to look at you as she spoke. You nodded silently, not wanting to pry.

Jane turned to you eventually. " Have you ever...felt something that you shouldn't have felt?" She asked, her voice sounding a bit colder than usual.

You frowned in confusion. " What do you mean?"

Jane sighed. " You probably haven't. But I wish to know if you've ever felt some...form of...lust for another being. Maybe even love for someone you are forbidden to love?" Jane searched your eyes, feeling a bit anxious.

You nodded silently and looked at Jane. Of course you had experienced love and attraction that was forbidden by society and the church. You wouldn't dare to admit it until now.

" Like a woman?" Jane whispered, making you nod again. " Have you ever repented?" She asked.

" I don't know how love can be frowned upon. I'm not sorry for loving someone. I don't know how love can be a sin." You responded calmly and adamantly. Jane looked at you and have you a small smile.

" You don't think I need to confess?" She asked, her pinkie finger gently grazing over your hand in a secret language — an intimate motion that you initially tried to ignore.

" Confess for what? Loving? Experiencing attraction?" You asked. Jane nodded with understanding and held your hand.

" Thank you." She whispered. " It feels forbidden to speak of these matters in a church or even hold your hand but I find myself careless right now." Jane admitted, looking down and eventually looking back up into your eyes.

Your eyes met hers and like a secret prayer — her emotions translated with yours. " No one is here... we're alone until the storm dies down." You squeezed Jane's hand.

Jane nodded in response and brought her free hand up to your cheek, caressing it. " May I?" She asked, her voice barely audible. The storm outside was blocking some of the syllables in her words.

" Yes, Jane. Yes." You whispered and inched closer towards Jane. Her hand escaped yours and made its way to your waist as she leant closer towards you. Her lips touched your own extremely lightly, a bit hesitant. But you matched her yearning with a mutual kiss — your heart felt like crying. Tears escaped your eyes and you held onto Jane. It was like you were being lifted by something. Like flight — a relief from the unfixed — an end to silence and that longing was met with a single flutter.

When you pulled away from the kiss, Jane leant your forehead against yours and you both smiled breathlessley, shutting your eyes and holding her hands in yours.

" Thank you." You mived your head back a bit so you could look at Jane properly. She brought your hand up to her lips and kissed it, eventually leaning her cheek in your palm as she began kissing up your arm. You gasped when Jane's lips met your exposed neck. Her warm breath sending echoing goosebumps throughout your body. You tilted your head back further to give Jane better access and she happily nibbled on your sweet spot.

" Oh...Jane." you moaned softly. " Jane you're making me feel." The confession fell from your lips like a honey-dipped verse. Jane smiled against your soft skin and kissed your jawline.

" Feel what? A certain need reserved for solitude?" She ran a hand over your thigh. You gasped and nodded, looking into Jane's eyes which were usually cold — instead of coldness, they had a sparkly to them and your body quivered slightly.

You wrapped your arms around Jane's neck and kissed her deeply again. " Jane..." You whispered against her lips.

" Yes darling?" Her one hand trailed your dress up your legs. " Oh you're so pretty." She looked down, admiring your legs and thighs. Jane's arm wrapped around your waist and you leant back into her. Your back leaning against her chest as you slouched. You moved your legs so you were lying on the wooden bench, your knees bent and your head and upped body propped up on that hard wooden bench. Jane smiled and watched your dress fall down your legs, folding into little pools at your waist, revealing more skin.

" Jane...I need you." You admitted, looking up at her.

Jane admired you for a moment before kissing your cheek. Her slender fingers found the waistband of your knickers. You gasped as Jane slipped her hand underneath the lace fabric. You gripped onto Jane's dress, the material scrunched up in your grasp as you tried to focus and compose yourself.

Jane hummed in approval when she felt your arousal coating her fingertips. She ran two fingers through your folds, parting them to have better access to your glistening entrance. Your body jerked at the friction.

" Oh darling, you're so deprived." Jane teased, swirling her middle finger around your throbbing clit. Jane grasped onto your thigh with her free hand, spreading your legs a bit more for her as she dipped a single finger into your pussy, making you moan out.

" Oh..." You had never felt this way before. Jane circled her middle finger inside you, exploring your walls. It was as though your mind had gone blank and the only person that crowded your thoughts was Jane.

She continued her actions and began moving her finger in and out of your tight hole, making your hips buck up at the sensation.

" You're so tight and wet around my finger, darling." Jane whispered against your neck and your moans grew even louder at her words.

" Please Jane...another finger!" You moaned out, feeling Jane's palm brush against your sensitive clit with each movement.

Jane slowly added another finger, watching you moan and pant in pleasure. You gasped at the slight stretch and released a strangled groan of Jane's name. Jane smiled down at you and started to pick up the pace, her fingers curling up and eventually finding your g-spot with each thrust.

" Jane! Oh... Jane...." Your voice trailed off as you moaned. You felt Jane lube up the third finger and slowly slide it inside of you, making you groan and writhe under her touch. Withdrawing her fingers and thrusting into you with a sudden urgency, your eyes rolled back and you leant your body even more into Jane's chest. With every thrust, you felt Jane's fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you and your legs began to shake. Your body herking against Jane as her movements began to speed up. Loud moans echoed throughout the chapel, remaining unheard because of the roaring, tempestuous thunder.

" You going to cum?" Jane asked, her voice low and husky. You groaned, becoming even more and more turned on due to her tone. You nodded quickly and Jane smirked.

" Cum for me." Jane said. The lightning synced with your cries and you came hard for Jane. it was like flying and falling at the same time. You looked up at Jane as your orgasm began to wear off and she leant down to kiss you softly, her fingers still moving in and out of your cunt.

" That was lovely." You whispered against Jane's lips. Jane smiled and withdrew her fingers, humming in approval as she licked up your mess. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight.

" I quite agree." Jane chuckled and held you close to her, you looked up at Jane with a small smile.

" Can I pleasure you too?" You asked softly.

Jane nodded and wrapped her fingers gently around your neck, meeting your lips again in a yearnful kiss. " Kneel for me." She whispered, making your breath hitch.

You immediately knelt down in front of Jane. She gently lifted her dress , hiking it up her long legs, spreading them for you. You bit your lip and teaced your fingers over Jane's thighs, peppering sweet little kisses upwards, reaching her clothed cunt, the fabric damp with her arousal. You brought your hand up and played with her over her knickers. Jane moaned as you accidentally circled her clit and you smiled at her reaction. You took her knickers off, sliding them down her legs, eventually stuffing them in her purse. Jane smirked and adjusted her dress, making it easier for you to reach between her legs.

You experimentally licked a slit up her folds and her sweet arousal triggered your taste buds. You planted a kiss on her pussy and two of your fingers parted her folds. You licked circles around Jane's sensitive bud, hearing her moan out as she gripped your hair, pulling you loser to her, needing more friction.

" Oh...darling." she groaned when she felt your finger explore her slick entrance before pushing inside of her. " Add two more." She commanded, tugging harder at your hair. You happily obeyed Jane, adding two more digits, feeling her hot walls tighten around them. Jane let out satisfied moans and you groaned when she pulled at your hair. In response, you grasped onto Jane's thighs and spread them further apart.

You pumped your fingers in and out of Jane while your tongue continued to stimulate her clit, making Jane release guttural moans as your increasing speed. The light rain pattered against the surfaces outside — like a clock, making the pleasure more urgent.

Jane and you were getting more and more turned on, knowing that someone could burst through that arched door at any moment. The two of you would immediately be dealt with by authority and society — forced to apologise for something you weren't sorry for. You couldn't give a damn about that. All that mattered was Jane.

Jane moaned louder when you curled your fingers up inside of her, her walls fluttered around your digits and you sucked harshly on her swollen clit. Jane's legs began to tremble at your sides, her thighs pressing hard against your head, trapping you in. It was obviously a happy moment for you.

" Oh! Darling...faster! I think I might..." Jane couldn't finish her sentence. The pleasure was overwhelming. You sped up your pace, thrusting your fingers and curling them inside of Jane as you did before while she flung her head back. Jane gazed upon the stained glass — her eyes slightly unfocused, the golden halos in front of her were a blur as she came hard, crying out your name like a sacred prayer. Separated syllables interrupted by moans and untamed breaths.

Jane's slick covered your fingers. You began to slow down your pace, letting Jane ride out her orgasm. Her breaths were still heavy and when you let go of her cunt and slipped your fingers out of her, some of her cum creeped down her thighs. You eagerly licked it up, making Jane chuckle as she looked down at you. Your lips were puffy and half your face was covered in her cum.

" My word, you're a mess, darling." Jane took her small black bag and shuffled through it, withdrawing a handkerchief and leaning down to wipe your face. " You did so well. Your mouth works wonders." She kissed your cheek and you smiled up at her.

You eventually pulled Jane's dress back down like normal, readjusting it before standing up and dusting off your knees. You sat next to Jane and rested your head on her shoulder, she wiped your fingers clean for you.

" May I have my knickers back, darling?" She asked, holding out her hand, expecting you to give them back.

" No, I'm keeping them. Thank you." You laughed, not missing the small blush on Jane's cheeks.

Jane let out a small sigh and couldn't help but laugh. " You're so naughty." Jane wrapped her arms around your waist and gave you a soft kiss. You deepened the kiss and smiled against her lips.

" We should do this again sometime." You mumbled.

" I agree, maybe we could use the confession box for extra privacy?" Jane suggested, her tone darkening with lust at the thought of it.

You laughed and nodded. " That could be arranged." You kissed Jane's cheek and she held your hand. The storm outside began to subside, the pouring rain began to diminish into a slight drizzle.

" We should get going." Jane whispered with a hint of sadness in her tone.

" Come around to my house whenever you'd like." You sat up properly and looked at Jane. you both eventually stood up and she nodded.

" Of course I will. " Jane gave you one soft kiss — that was the only minute you wished for an eternity.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

#jane murdstone #gwendoline christie #jane murdstone x reader #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems

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indigos-stardust · 4 months

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Four Keys: Skhadu (Shadow)

Other Characters: Buwe - Flicker

So I'm gonna be real guys I am filled with guilt that I have not posted their lore and stories, I'm just too much of a perfectionist so I'm just gonna ramble like I'm talking to a friend so I can get all of this out

Tw for child abuse, but its not descriptive its just part of his story

So Skhadu is an illegitimate prince of the draconic people in this fantasy world. He hates his father (Ganondorf <3) and his fathers Advisor/Mage (Vaati <3) even more!

He hates not having real power but still being forced into doing crap for everyone and then not even having the freedom to make his own choices.

Hes kinda been forced into this enforcer role, where he kinda has to terrorize anyone trying to plan some rebellion or coup or whatever. There's a lot of issues especially with the Kings great hibernation coming and the rumor of their only valid heir, Skhadu's half sister, being extremely ill. Like "Oh hey I might die" ill.

She would be the one with the crown and guardianship of their fathers Realm (kingdom wise and centuries nap wise). So if she's out for the picture, or at least weak, then that leaves alot of room for plenty of others to take a chance at power.

Point is though, Skhadu still has to attend stffy formal events, be constantly controlled so he doesnt "Embarrass the crown even more", and train to just do whatever everyone else orders him to do. The training is very brutal, and with Vaati being the one teaching him his magics? No very fun...

Not to mention he's constantly disrespected and humiliated, he has no choice, no freedom... just occasionally pity. It's what his father said preventing him from being killed.

So Skhadu runs away. He's still a prince. Just a Prince of Theives now. Or that's what he proclaims anyways.

He wants to make as much money as possible with as much chaos and fun as he wants thank you very much! Get real power on his own! Cause as much chaos and destruction however HE wants to! Not worry about responsibilities or appearances! Or Vaati threatening to lock him in a cage for two weeks without any food again! Adventure! maybe a girlfriend! Freedom! Money!! That he can actually use!!!

He even has the skills for it too- All his years stealing, sneaking, and fighting Vaati has payed off! And he's not only read about plenty of techniques, he's even learnt from other thieves<3 he's definitely found his place

SURPRISE: The heir, his half sister, really is ill. Fatally. He is the next best thing to an heir they have. The closet thing to keeping power in the family. They'll offer him whatever he wants if he comes back.

Skhadu does not want to come back. He finally got real freedom. Real happiness. He understands how much the "power" he'd get is just a lie. He's not interested. Responsibilities are gross. He'll live in secret and have an AWESOME time doing that thank you very much. The colorfully worded letter containing his own scales proves that.

So the manhunt ensues. He'll never be caught- Hes too smart, too clever-The crumbling Kingdom can suck it and figure out their own issues! Not force him to! Hed rather end up in a jailhouse again than being publically executioned whenever a new coup shows up.

Or just live in hell being nothing but Vaati's puppet. He knows he can't run away forever though.

Buuuuuuut, something does catch his eyes...

There's some little haggle of misfit adventurers looking for some "triforce" artifact or whatever. Something about "finding the sacred keys" or some crap. It sounds like a bunch of guys high of fairy dust believing in some folk tale, but Skhadu knows better. Because he knows that's what his father was searching for. To restore the power of their kingdom, and become a god. Skhadu had just thought he was a madman. But with the evidence he's seeing... Maybe Ganondorf is not.

It's supposed to take the energy of one's soul and mix it with their greatest desire. Fueled by the raw magic of the elements, their wildest dreams can come true... Even defeating death.

Its.. probably an exaggeration, but based on the actual viable magical documents, it does seem entirely possible he could use it to save his sister. He's NOT doing it because he "cares" about her or whatever. Shes stuck up and overly perfect! Skhadu is just doing it for his own interest, its a dog eat dog world afterall. If she can be the heir then they'll stop hunting him, and he'll be free!

Besides, those adventurers or whatever? They're a bunch of saps, it'' be super easy to trick them! He'll just let them do all the hard work and steal it from them at the very end! Yes, yes, he IS a genius, and a very handsome one at that.

Sure he'd be a traitor to the throne and his new "friends", but really, what's one more lie to the pile?

#four keys #my art #my au #four swords #fs #shadow link #fs shadow #four swords shadow #fs art #four swords art #four swords manga #four keys shadow

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zoeysdamn · 7 months

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I had no choice - Knight!Nikolaï x reader

A/N: More angst for @corpsebasil AU? heck yes. Also I'm sorry in advance this was better in my head fjnkjrbg

Part 2 of this one-shot (tho you can also read it as a stand-alone)

Summary: You and your secret lover Sir Nikolaï got married in secret a few months ago. As the princess of Ravka, you can’t let this information become public right now. But what might happen if your hand is forced to reveal it? Are your royal duties more important than your union to your beloved knight? TW: angst, child neglect, slight violence, mention of blood and death in childbirth, angst, slut-shaming, dubious morals, mention of su!cide

It was easy, at first. The first months of your married life, albeit a secret one, had been blissful and lovely, and easy. There was the thrill of secrecy, the shared glances that now carried the bubbling emotions of newlyweds, the stolen kisses behind curtains, and the knowledge of returning to each other’s arms when the night would come. But after several months of this untainted happiness, reality slowly came back. It wasn’t a crashing realization, more like a creeping around your mind just like the insidious whispers in the corridors reaching your ears from time to time. Then came the crippling doubt. Nothing loud or really consistent, but quiet and haunting at every small moment of silence within your mind. What if someone knows? What if we weren’t that discreet? What of it then? You knew the answer to that last one, of course ; treason, trial, exile, maybe even execution for Nikolaï – perhaps even yourself. Ironically, the love Nikolaï showered you with was precisely what made you neglect those thoughts. It might have been a deliberate subconscious move too, to bury your own head in the sand instead of being practical. And that despite all of the warnings around you, that led you to the exact situation you currently were in.

The day had started as usual though. You woke up in the arms of your lover – your husband – like any other day. It was always a bliss to look at the peaceful asleep face of Nikolaï, getting kissed by the first rays of sun like a delicate brush on a painting. You consider yourself lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of the handsome relaxed face of the knight every morning. Though it was always a matter of getting up before the maids came to your own adjacent chamber, Nikolaï always took the time to shower you with kisses to start his day ; you gladly returned the favor, by the way. Then the dreadful slipping away from his chamber, just to put back on the princess role once again. Getting dressed, getting breakfast, where you see Nikolaï again, dressed in his knight outfit this time. The day has gone by as usual, meeting with your ladies in waiting or dignitaries, walking around the palace gardens, Sir Nikolaï always close by as the dutiful bodyguard – and devoted husband he was. Then during the afternoon tea, a guard showed up to whisper something to your beloved knight’s ears, to which he answered with a sharp nod. Polite as ever, he had excused himself to attend this military matter that requested his attention ; nothing out of the ordinary really, for the captain of the knights.

The prospect of him leaving your side for a few hours had you pout a little, but the deception had been quickly washed away by the knowledge and secret promise of a later reunion in the wink Nikolaï secretly sent you before exiting the room.

Really, everything had started as it always was.

Then, out of the blue, two guards arrived in the tea room and asked to follow them, per your father’s request. It wasn’t something terribly surprising either, as the princess of Ravka the king could sometimes summon you ; so although it wasn’t planned, you weren’t surprised and you followed your father’s guards. Most of the palace guards were known by you, at least by face if not by name and Nikolaï’s words, but the king’s guards were a special case. Unlike the rest of the military, they didn’t serve Ravka, but the King only. And you were about to remember that very soon.

“Father,” you greeted with a small courtesy as you entered the gilded room, “you had requested my presence?”

The king lifted his nose from the paper he was reading. Despite all the etiquette lessons you had been through growing up, the first thought that came to your mind was that he was looking old. Decades of ruling a country and being an absent father does that to you, you supposed. All while you thought about it, you missed the somber look the monarch was giving.

“Leave us,” he said sharply to the guards. Ever obedient, the two soldiers who escorted you swiftly left the room without a word.

This made you frown slightly in confusion. “Is something wrong, father?”

“What do you think?” he said sharply. “Why would I have summoned my useless child if everything was fine?”

The sting of his words took you by surprise for a moment. Growing up, you knew the king didn’t like you – your mother was supposed to give birth to a boy after all. With no male heir and a wife who died shortly after giving birth, the King never bothered to hide his disdain for you, at least in private. You had learned to not be upset by it with the years, and by the time you were an adult you both ignored each other the most you could. The sudden verbal attack for years wasn’t expected.

Squaring your shoulders for the incoming scolding, you tried to keep your voice as steady as you could. “What do you mean, sir?”

The king slammed his hand on the table out of anger, startling you. When he looked you dead in the eye with a look full of hate, you knew it was useless to try to resolve this issue with diplomacy.

“Do you think of me deaf and blind, child?” he spat angrily. “Do you think of me stupid enough to not know everything that goes around in my own house?”

Gulping slowly, you tried to appease the situation. “Sir I–”

“Do not talk back,” the king hissed as he sprung up from his chair. His face had turned redder in anger as yours paled. “Did you think you could go around my back like that?”

“Sir,” you said shakily, even though your voice tried to be steady, with all due respect, I really don’t know what you’re talking ab–”

The slap that echoed in the room cut the words out of your mouth before you could even blink. Add to that the surprise of the physical attack, and the force your father used on it, you lost balance and crashed on the floor. Your ears were ringing, head spinning as a hot, searing pain bloomed on your cheek. Trying to steady yourself on the hardwood floor, you barely even noticed the tears welling in your eyes at the shock. With a trembling hand, you reached for your bruised cheek ; a string of blood coated your fingers, fresh from the cut the sharp edge of the king’s rings had made when he slapped you. You felt your heart sink into your stomach at the sight: there was no coming back from this situation.

“Don’t make yourself a liar atop of a whore, child”, the king seethed, glaring coldly at you.

The words felt like a second punch, you almost snapped your neck looking up to him with wide eyes. The pathetic sight of the princess of Ravka on her knees with tears-filled eyes and bruised cheek made the monarch snicker in disgust.

“Did you think I’d never found out about your ridiculous affair with that bastard? That saints-forsaken son of a bitch of a knight–”

“Leave him out of this,” you pleaded with a raspy voice. The tears were heavy in your eyes and voice, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t fight for Nikolaï’s honor just like he did for you.

“I’ll have that filthy bastard’s head no matter how much you’ll beg,” sneered the king in disdain. “This is what you get when you spread your legs for the first knight in sight, you whore.”

The accusation hurt even more at the implication that you could have bedded any knight that had come across you ; Nikolaï was anything but a random knight. But your father hadn’t finished with you yet.

“And it wasn’t enough for you to fuck him, you had to marry him,” he spat with a disgusted snarl. “Just how dumb are you? You had one role in this life, to marry according to my choice and nothing else! Who would ever marry a useless slut like you now, hmm?”

Despite your firm intent to stand up for your love and union, you couldn’t help but feel a heavy lump of shame forming in your throat. Years of conditioning to your role as the princess of Ravka came to shame you: of course as a female heir, the only use you were supposed to have to the kingdom was to marry the most interesting party your father and his council would have chosen. But alas, you had failed this mission in favor of your heart’s choice.

“You’re a disgrace to this kingdom and your family,” the king spat once again. “But as much ashamed as I am with you, I fortunately have a solution to make something acceptable for us.”

Snapping your head up from the floor, you stared at him with wide eyes, fearing what he would say. “What are you going to do?” you asked with a trembling voice.

He tsked in annoyance. “Your little…fling is fortunately not known by anyone but me. I made sure of that after my spies reported your filthy sins to me.”

His words echoed in your mind once, twice, before a gasp escaped you when you realized his implications. “D-do you mean that…you had them killed?” you hiccuped.

Once again your reaction seemed to only bring more irritation to the king, who only rolled his eyes. “Did you think I’d let anyone live with that knowledge? You have dragged our family’s honor through the dirt enough, I couldn’t let anyone spread a word about this.” He glanced at you to see tears roaming on your cheeks and let out a bitter huf. “This better be a lesson for you, you ungrateful child. Their deaths are because of you, and no one else.”

“No,” you whimpered, “this isn’t true, I never wished for their deaths–”

“Enough!” the king barked, running short on his patience. “I will not hear one more word from your treacherous mouth! You will be confined in your room until I deemed so, and I can promise you that the only way for you to get out will be to be married to someone I chose to fix your mistakes!”

Your eyes widened, causing more tears to roll on your cheeks. “You can’t do that!” you cried pathetically. “You can’t unmake vows made before the Saints–”

Another rough slap cut you once again, and you gasped at the new attack. “Quiet! I don’t want to hear anything from you, whore!”. Just as you tried to ease the ringing of your head after the slap, your father forcefully grabbed your face to make you look up to his hateful eyes. “I may be unable to untie that heathen marriage of yours, but death most certainly can.”

His words tore an horrified gasp from your throat, but he carried on venomously.

“I’ll have the head of Sir Nikolaï delivered to you on a silver platter as a wedding gift, as soon as that son of a bitch returns to the palace, do you understand me?”

Against all of your might, you nodded your head weakly, tears roaming on your face. As soon as he got your understanding, the king yanked his hand off your face in disgust. As to prove a point, he immediately grabbed a handkerchief and wiped his hand clean; that’s the moment when you realized that something other than tears was dripping on your lips. When your trembling fingers brushed against your abused lip, you realized that was blood which dripped from your nose.

The king shot you another disgusted glare.

“Put yourself together, child.”

Like an automat, you clumsily managed to get up on wobbly legs, eyes lost into nothingness. You felt dizzy, numb, unable to think properly at the tragic turn of events in such a short amount of time. It was like your body acted on its own, whipping away the blood that had tickled down your face with the back of your hand in a very unlady-like manner. It didn’t matter though, considering your father had already turned his back to you to look at the window, signaling this was the end of this dreadly entrevue.

“This conversation never happened to anyone but us,” he stated coldly. “Am I being clear?”

Somehow your body responded on its own – even more surprisingly, your father seemed to have seen you nod ; or perhaps he had expected you to react like the obedient puppet you had been trained to be. You barely even noticed him calling for one of his guards and the said guard entering the room.

“Take the princess back to her rooms,” he ordered coldly. “She is to be kept there under some of my personnel guard’s surveillance at all times until I say otherwise. No one but a few personal maids is to enter, am I understood?”

Whether the guard had answered or not didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Too lost in your own foggy, broken mind, you barely even be conscious of your own moving through the halls of the palace to your room, nor the looming presence of the watching guard. It was only when they let you inside of your room, and you heard the lock of the door, that the full realization of the situation sank in with a crash.

Tears that had previously dried up came back flooding on your cheeks and you felt like you were suffocating. Trembling and dizzy, you had to lean on the wall for support as you cried. How did all of this happen?

Nikolaï and you had always shown the utmost discretion, of course ; you knew the risks. No one had witnessed your wedding but the priest who had officiated it. As a man of the church, he was sworn to secrecy, you had an absolute trust in him. Embraces, kisses and passion had always been confined to the privacy of your chambers – much to both your disappointment and safety. Outside and for everyone’s eyes, you became the princess and Sir Nikolaï once again and nothing more. So how did everything go so wrong, so fast?

Shaky fingers went to clutch the ring looped on the thin chain around your neck. Oh, how you wished Nikolaï was here with you at the moment. You craved his presence, his comfort and his love. He would have known how to comfort you, how to find a solution. But he wasn’t by your side, and the moment he’d come back would be his ultimate demise. A sob wrecked your body ; you probably wouldn’t even be able to see your love, your husband one last time.

You spent the next half hour crying, whimpering, curled on the ground against the wall. The gash in your heart couldn’t stop bleeding, forbidden to heal due to the absence of Nikolaï and the tragic upcoming of his inevitable death. Despair clung onto your soul, embedding itself to the deepest parts of yourself. Never in your life, especially after your wedding, you would have thought you’d feel like that again.

Being the princess of Ravka never prevented to have an abusive parent, you knew that better than anyone. Insults and slaps had been frequent when you were a child, whether it was for a silly mistake on your part or simply your father having a bad day. The king never forgave you for your mother’s death and you being a girl ; his parental affection had been buried deep down in the ground at the same time as your mother, it had seemed. But the years had passed, and you had learned to know better than to expect any love from the king, and to avoid his rageful fits by making yourself useful. Being a political asset by mastering the art of negotiation and diplomacy had smoothed your relationship with the king ; until today, it had been years since he last raised his hand on you.

“Your majesty?”

You jumped in surprise, startled by the sudden voice in your room. Snapping your head up, your tear-filled eyes met your maid’s worried ones.

“Are you alright, your majesty?”

The lump in your throat only felt heavier. That girl was blessedly unaware of the torment you had been thrown into. A wobbly lip and tear-stained cheeks wouldn’t fool anyone, yet you nodded weakly.

“Not really,” you rasped.

The frown of concern on the maid’s face only worsened, just to be cut by a gasp at the inspection of your own face. “You’re bleeding! Have you been hurt?”

Brushing your fingers against your nose once again you gulped at the sight of blood once again. Your father definitely didn’t go easy on you this time.

“Help me up,” you mumbled weakly, to which the maid obeyed promptly.

As a contrast to your tired numbness, the poor servant fussed in anxiety, helpless and worried about her mistress’ state. She led you to sit on a vanity, you could hear her from a distance talking about soothing tea or something. As she busied herself your eyes wandered to the reflecting surface in front of you. A wave of nausea and tears rises when you lock eyes with your reflection: half-disheveled hair and red eyes, cheeks red from both the slaps and the tears, a bloody nose and dread sinking into your bones. The woman in the mirror is someone you never thought you’d see one day – or again.

Suddenly, all the sadness and sorrow morphed into something else. Disgust. Fear. Anger. Rage. Everything bubbled inside of your chest, craving a way to get out. As your eyes wandered, trying to get a hold of something real to ground you, they landed on a little box covered in dust. Hidden behind bottles and jewel boxes, you hadn’t touched it for years.

The sight was like an electroshock; all of the sudden, you remembered what was inside of that box. And then all of those emotions raging inside you turned into even more: resignation.

“Alyosha?”

The maid immediately rushed to your side in worry. “Yes my lady?”

“I need you to deliver a message for me.”

The sun was starting to set when a knock echoed on your door. Given the context, the faintest sound should be startling you with the fear of dreadful news. But you knew exactly who it was, so you invited them to enter.

The sound of armored steps on the wooden floor and the locking of the door hang heavy in the air.

“You requested my presence, your majesty?”

You turned around to face the knight who had entered your room. Where you usually expected blonde curls and a loving smile, you met the dark hair and stern face of Sir Dominik Vertov.

“Indeed,” you said quietly – and way more calmly than you had thought barely a few hours before. “I thank you for coming, Sir Dominik.”

Polite and composed as ever, he only squared his shoulders. “It’s my watch, princess.”

Unlike his childhood friend Nikolaï, Dominik had been promoted to the King’s guard after his duties during the war. Nikolaï had been offered that place too ; he refused.

Your lover had admitted several times that he missed his best friend. Even if they both had their duties in the palace, they didn’t meet quite as often as they used to. But today, you were relieved that he and dominik had partied ways, for it may be your only chance now.

“I’m still thankful for your presence,” you said carefully. When you asked your maid to deliver a message to Sir Dominik, asking him to meet with you as quickly as possible and in the utmost discretion, you weren’t so sure he’d agree to it. After all, you were only the princess ; his allegiance laid with the king, not you.

Like reading your thoughts, the knight gave you a pointed look. This made your throat tighten; there was no need beating around the bush any further.

Taking a deep exhale, you unfold the words you had thought on for hours earlier.

“I have something to ask of you,” you started, careful to keep your voice as steady as you could. “This isn’t something easy, and I know there is no way for me to repay you for that, or even ask your forgiveness for.”

The knight frowned slightly at your words, both curious and perplexed. What was so terrible you could ask of him? Several answers came to his mind, some terrible, some absurds, but you soon cut off his train as thoughts as you declared:

“I need you to help me to take someone’s life.”

That definitely wasn’t something he expected. Dominik raised an intrigued eyebrow. “With all due respect princess, I’m not sure killing someone can solve any problem you might have.”

“Believe me, it is,” you insisted gravely.

“I’m not a thug for hire –”

“It’s a matter of saving Nikolaï’s life,” you cut him, a little louder. At your words, Dominik stopped his rambling and looked at you with wide eyes.

After a few seconds of the initial shock – both of the prospect of his friend being in danger and the princess calling him by his first name, he recomposed himself. “What do you mean?”

You gulped, feeling more nervous and your will faltering at every passing second. But you had to be strong, for Nikolaï.

“What I’m going to tell you can’t be known by anyone,” you said quietly. “Should you turn down your help on me, you have to at least swear to not tell a soul.”

The knight looked more and more confused, but strangely agreed to this. So with a deep inhale and a turn to the window, you dropped the bomb.

“A few months ago, Nikolaï and I got married in secret,” you confessed quietly, wrenching your hand together nervously. A soft gasp was heard from Dominik, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “We started a romantic relationship around a year ago, which no one knew about. Or so I thought until today.”

You could practically hear the churns turning in Sir Dominik’s head. He would be fast to understand the situation, surely.

“Someone found out,” he deduced out loud, and you nodded. “And you don’t want to be exposed.”

You whipped around at his underlying accusation. “This isn’t about my pride or reputation! If I had to throw everything away, my name, my titles and prices to be able to be with Nikolaï freely, I’d do it in a blink of an eye!”

This took him aback slightly. Even if he was a royal guard, Dominik never thought nicely of high-born morals. Even less to someone like Nikolaï and him. And that’s why he was now more concerned than ever.

“...who knows?” he asked after a few moments of silence. This time you faced him, and you could read the real question: who has to die?

The weight in your stomach got heavier, even if you had made your peace with this inevitability. “Someone who has the power to order his death,” you muttered.

You couldn’t say out loud that the king was the target ; who knows who could be listening?

As soon as it clicked in his head, Dominik’s previously composed face turned into a mix of horror and disgust.

“This can’t– you don’t mean – “

“It’s a heavy task I’m asking, I know,” you muttered.

“It’s not that!” the knight snapped. “You’re asking me to be accomplice of regicide, princess,” he whispered through gritted teeth, careful not to be heard.”

“I know,” you repeated in a quiet, yet steady voice. “But I also know that the king doesn’t make threats lightly.”

Dominik looked down; he was aware of that.

You turned to your vanity to retrieve the dusty little box. Once full of colors, it was now a faded crackled porcelain. But it was also what may be your salvation. Opening it, you carefully took a small velvet pouch, barely bigger than a thumb and returned to where the knight was standing. Dominik raised an eyebrow at you when you handed the pouch to him.

“What is it?”

“What might earn Nikolaï the right to live,” you answered cryptically. At the frown of incomprehension from the man, you could only offer him a sorry smile. “Pour it in my father’s wine, it’ll be a quick death. It’s the safest way of ending this.”

“For who, for you?” he snorted, throwing a disgusted look at the pouch of poison. “Having someone else killing your father because he had been mean to you and is forcing you to a divorce?”

His words felt like a slap once again, and your face darkened. “Divorce isn’t an option for the king,” you hissed, “It’s Nikolaï’s head he wants.”

Saying it out loud made you choke on your own words. Hearing the threat clearly from your father was one thing; realizing the actual danger by saying it yourself was something else. Dominik too, had his eyes widened at the statement. He thought that Nikolaï would have been imprisoned for his crimes, maybe whipped. But death? The king was cruel but he never thought he’d go to such lengths on one of the most faithful knights in the kingdom.

“Please,” you begged, your voice wavering as tears threatened to spill, “I can’t live without him. If anyone happened to Nikolaï I would never forgive myself.”

Sir Dominik didn’t respond. Stepping closer, you handed him the pouch once again, with trembling hands.

“If not for me, do it for him,” you whispered weakly. “I’m begging you to help me to save the man we both love.”

A beat passed. Then, the knight slowly reached for the pouch. As you felt it leaving your hand, it was like a weight in your heart was lifted at the same time. Sir Dominik stared at the small pouch for long seconds.

“How will this work?” he asked quietly.

You tried your best to not let out a relieved sigh. “Pour it into any liquid. It’ll be over after an hour or so.”

The knight nodded. “Any signs that might alert doctors before he…passes?”

You shook your head. “It’s supposed to be painless. Not easily noticeable either after the death, for what I’ve been told.”

Looking up at you, Dominik frowned slightly. “You were awfully well prepared for this situation, it seems.”

The new underlying accusation didn’t upset you like before. Instead, you just smiled sadly.

“It was never supposed to be for the king,” you said with a tint of sadness, to which he frowned even more. “Poison is said to be a women’s weapon but people often forget it might also be a painless way out for some of us.”

Dominik’s eyes widened at your words. Sensing his confusion, you darted your eyes away, the sting of long-gone memories coming back.

“Noble titles and gold never stopped anyone abusing their child,” you muttered bitterly. “No matter how fine your clothes and manners are, being called and treated like the utmost failure half of your life can make the strongest minds sink.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to get a grip on your trembling hands. No matter how many years had passed, you still remembered every single slap and punch your father had thrown at you behind closed doors.

Raising your head a little higher to gather courage, you turned back to face the flabbergasted knight. “Thankfully I had a wet-nurse who saw through it. After patching another wound, she blessed me with this.”

“Blessed you?” he frowned.

“What other choice did I have as a woman?” you ask sadly, and you knew by the way he looked away that he understood. “It’s only a fair thing to finally use it to end this cycle of violence.”

“At what cost?”

“Thankfully not Nikolaï’s life,” you countered quietly. “But…I’m sincerely sorry it’ll cost yours.”

Dominik nodded solemnly. He knew this; as one of the king’s guards, he was among the very few people who could approach him. Maybe this poison won’t alert anyone at first, but the suspicion of assassination would soon rise. The list of suspects would be very small, and it would be only a matter of time before Dominik would be arrested for treason if someone figured things out.

So he’ll have to flee. Abandon his rank as a king’s knight, his reputation, his life. All of this to be replaced by the brand of traitor and murderer. He was willing to do it. Of course he was. Nikolaï had saved his life during the war countless times, and above that he was his best friend, his brother. If he had to run away and live a life of fugitive for the rest of his days in order to save Nikolaï, he’d do it in a heartbeat. No matter how serious the crime could be.

“I’ll be on the road as soon as it’s done,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

You nodded slowly. The guilt that was sinking in your stomach made bile rise in your throat. “Do you…have someone who would come with you?” you asked quietly. If the man who helped you had to run, you sure would do anything to help him. But Dominik shook his head.

“We don’t have much time,” he simply said. “Nikolaï and his men are said to be back tomorrow. It’ll be done tonight.”

Again, you nodded, afraid that tears could fall if you spoke. Dominik straightened his back, and bowed.

“It’s been an honor to serve this family, princess. I shall bring with me the comfort of knowing my best friend has a woman like you by his side.”

The small smile stretching your lips at his words was a sad one. “I’ll be forever in your debt, Sir Dominik. You’re a good man.”

He offered you a sorry smile as he lifted himself up again. Both of you knew nothing would ever be the same after this night. Now bound by the terrible secret of what will come, in order to save Nikolaï.

So without a word, he made his way to the door. Just when he was about to open it, the knight stopped himself and looked back at you.

“Are you really willing to kill a king for a mere knight?”

The answer, although heavy with consequence, was immediate.

“I deeply believe that every life is equal beyond our birth and titles, Sir Dominik.”

That made him smile. “You’ll make a fine ruler one day, princess.”

You thanked him with a bow of your head. He returned it and then, quietly, slipped away from your chamber. No one heard the door click, nor did they notice a missing horse from the stables a few hours later in the dark of the night.

That night, laying in your bed, you kept your eyes open until daylight to let the last few tears of guilt run down your cheeks, thinking about the lives you has sacrificed for you love.

The crashing news of the king’s death came before Nikolaï returned to the palace.

It was a valet who discovered him, laying in his chair with eyes half closed and skin cold. Words spread fast as a doctor was hurried to the king’s side, and by the time the rumor had reached the kitchen, the monarch was confirmed dead.

A heart seizure, the royal doctor told you after he was brought to your chambers with a somber look to deliver the news. The tears and cries that escaped you hearing your father’s death were genuine, and everyone saw how deep their princess was affected. Truth was, those tears weren’t for the king; they were for Sir Dominik, the knight who had now abandoned everything to save your husband. Now the poor man was doomed to a fugitive existence, and you weren’t sure if somehow you could forgive yourself that.

The mournful look and tears did the trick anyway. Everyone was looking at you with sorry eyes for the past days, and cladded in your black clothes you played the role of the mourning princess to perfection. Two days after your father died, Nikolaï came back to the palace.

As soon as he stepped down his horse, a servant hurried to deliver him the news. It was all it took him to rush through the palace’s corridors and to your room. He bursted into your chambers unannounced, panting and face painted with worry, but it vanished as soon as he landed his eyes on you. Before you could rise up from the chair you had been reading on, your husband engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug.

Both of you clung on each other like your lives depended on it – and somehow, they were. You could even feel Nikolaï’s hand shaking in emotion. After a long, much-needed minute of embrace, he lifted his head from your neck to have a look at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked in worry, searching on your face for any sign of discomfort – apart from grief.

Instead of answering, you were staring at him, beaming. Every single detail of his handsome face, even painted with worry, sent a flood of relief through your body. He was back, he was here, he was alive. Your husband had come back to you alive and well, while you had feared the opposite for the past days. What was grief and guilt until then turned into joy and warm relief.

“I am now,” you finally whispered, still not quite believing Nikolaï was here at last.

The knight let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. Taking your hands with his, he held you close to him. “I’m sorry about your father’s passing, my love,” he said sincerely.

You could only offer him a tight smile. Nikolaï didn’t know what your father had done during your childhood. As he never lifted his hand on you for years, Sir Nikolaï had never been around to witness such tragedy. And you never wanted to share this with him; you and him deserved better than those plaguing memories.

Right now all you needed was the comfort of your husband’s arms, just to prove to yourself that everything had not been in vain.

Soon, when the time of mourning would be done, you’d publicly announce your engagement to Sir Nikolaï. Being a well-renowned and popular knight would play in your favor, the council would be glad to have him as the prince consort next to Ravka’s new queen. Soon, you both would be free to be married once again and be never afraid of loving each other again.

Soon, everytime you’d see Nikolaï’s face and smile, you’d convince yourself that it had been worth every sacrifice and lie. When the guilt would creep up on your mind during sleepless nights, you’d face them with the knowledge and conviction that you had no choice. Even if that meant losing good men or forcing fate.

Nikolaï might have been your bodyguard before becoming your husband, but as his wife you’d burn down entire cities and behead dozens of kings to keep him safe. That was a promise and a choice you’d intend to keep at any cost.

sorry it sounded better in my head *sob*

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai x reader #sir nikolaï #knight!nikolai #knight nikolai lantsov #angst #nikolai lantsov angst

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