#i couldn’t resist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanwarriorfictions · 26 days

Text

Not Again- Part Two

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: Y/n woke up in a strange foreign land surrounded by strangers that she couldn’t understand. Alone and desperate to get home.

Series Masterlist

-Part Two-

Y/n kept her dagger pointed at them. The two males and the small female didn’t seem to mind that fact, they seemed more concerned about the Wyrd mark on her brow.

“What is that,” the beautiful male with violet eyes asks, “how did it toss me out of your mind.”

She glares at him, “that was rude of you, trying to look into a ladies mind without her permission.”

She’d felt those talons at the edge of her mind, hitting that ice cold wall that had grabbed him and threw him out without hesitation. She’d felt his shock when that ancient power had flared, she’d felt his pain as it ripped into him just as viciously as he’d attacked her.

The corners of his lips tug, “my apologies, we’ve had bad experiences with random females falling into this world.”

She couldn’t hide the surprise. So she wasn’t the first they’d encountered. How many gates had been opened here? How many had been wrenched from their home worlds against their will. How did the gates get unlocked.

“I don’t take kindly to strangers messing with my head,” she says, memories of sitting in her mother’s office, learning of the valg queen who’d held her mother captive during the war, torturing and twisting her mind, the queen who had gone into her father’s head and convinced him another was his mate just to get her killed, “this mark is the mark of my blood, and protection against beings like you.”

Her mother had woven the protection into her skin the moment she was born, the mark upon her brow no longer just a warning of the price to be paid. The mark will continue to pass down through the bloodline, and it will protect them as it had protected her.

“Who are you?” She asks, “why did you bring me here?”

“My name is Rhysand,” the violet eyed male introduces, his casual stance not moving an inch, a preformance, she was well versed in those, “We didn’t bring you here, Azriel over here found you laying in the dirt.”

He gestures to the male with the dark bat like wings who’s scent had woken her. The scent was familiar, something she couldn’t quite place at first. She’d felt him draw close and that’s when she struck without hesitation. He fought well, countering each of her moves, not attacking, just blocking. When she’d pulled away and truly looked him over, saw those shadows that reminded her of her uncles’, she had recognized that he smelled like the libraries of Orynth. It’d shocked her enough to let the grip on the air go, and when he’d sighed in relief she’d unconsciously warned the air even more. It was strange, very very strange, that reaction to his pain. Her father would bite her head off for the slip.

“There was no one else with me?” She asked the male, Azriel.

He merely shook his head, “just you.”

The small female who’d yet to introduce herself steps forward, “who would’ve been with you?”

Y/n eyes the female warily, she looked like a normal fae, but something told her that this female was more than she seemed, “I was sparring with my father when the gate opened, a force I couldn’t see pulled me down, my head smacked the ground and then I was waking up here. Whatever it was seemed to have just wanted me.”

She could hear her fathers yell as she was pulled away, she remembers the flash of light as he shifted and then everything went black.

“The Wyrd gates have been sealed for 25 years,” Y/n continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible.”

Her mother had almost given her life to lock those gates, she’d given almost everything she was to do it.

“Wyrd gate?” Rhysand asks, shakily testing out the word, it existed in their language, given the way she was able to say it with ease, but obviously it hadn’t been used in a very very long time.

“A gate between worlds,” the small female answers, “gates opened with marks like that.”

She gestures to the mark still faintly glowing on Y/n’s brow.

“Nameless,” the female slowly reads, “you’ve got quite a long name to have nameless stamped on you, girl.”

“Amren play nice,” Rhysand chides halfheartedly.

“Wyrd marks are used for many things,” Y/n says, “it’s the language of worlds, like I said, this one is the mark of my bloodline, passed on from my mother.”

Ever the silent figure, Azriel simply watches, his eyes not missing any details. It’s almost enough to make her squirm, but instead she holds his gaze, refusing to back down even an inch. He’s unfairly beautiful, dark hair curling slightly at the ends, his face unreadable, his eyes the shade of whisky in fire light. Several inches taller than her, she’d have to crane her head back to look him in the eye standing next to him. A warrior, built with lethal muscles that she could see beneath his black shirt, large yet he moved with speed, like one of those wisps of shadows at his shoulders. And those wings, large and foreboding, wicked talons at the beak and on the ends, if he stretched them open they’d be twice, maybe even triple the size of him. The shadows around him dance, more sentient than her uncles, more wild too, they swirl around and whisper in his ears, she wonders what they have to say about her.

“Should we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?” Rhysand asks, a glimmer in his eye as he breaks the stare down between them.

He takes a step towards Y/n and that dagger is back up in an instant, “I’m perfectly happy to talk here in the open, rather than whatever cell you have in mind.”

Rhysand quirks a brow, “who said anything about a cell.”

Her answering laugh is as cold as ice, “you would invite me into your home? I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“We’ve been down this road before,” Rhysand says, “our last guest was keen on escaping anyway she could, I’m sure you would be as well. I’d like to be able to keep a closer eye on you. Azriel here would be more than happy to fly you up to the house of wind.”

Azriel sends him an inquisitive look, “I would?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Y/n says quickly, examining those bat like wings, “where is this house of wind.”

Rhysand grins as he points across the garden to the looming cliffs hanging above the city beyond, “up there. I promise flying will be much better than the ten thousand steps up to the door. Azriel won’t bite.”

She grins, showing off those sharpened canines, “who says I won’t.”

Azriel subtly examines those teeth, she could easily rip out his throat with them if she wished. Based on the way he shifts back on his feet, she’s sure he’s come to the same conclusion

“I’ll get there myself,” she continues, “just need a guide.”

With a flash of blinding white light, she shifts, taking the form of a large hawk. Surprise lights in the three fae’s eyes, Azriel’s wings flaring in shock. He takes in her form, her red tinged wings, those same cold eyes staring out at him.

“Well isn’t that something.” Rhysand’s head angles, “follow Azriel, he’ll show you to your room. We can continue this conversation in the morning.”

They glance at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Azriel spreads his wings and launches into the sky. She bows her head towards the two remaining before she’s shooting into the sky behind him.

She’s fast, faster than him in that nimble form. Azriel flies quickly to the house, yet she surpasses him and circles around to keep pace. He can’t help but feel like she’s stalking him, like he’s a field mouse that she’s picked out for dinner, waiting for the moment she decides to strike. Whatever sort of fae she was set him on edge, her power felt older and wilder like she was closer to the beasts the fae used to be, the ones with raw magic that drew directly from the earth beneath them. That wind could pull the air from beneath his wings, pull it straight from his lungs, that fire could burn him to ash from the inside out. It was the most unsettling feeling.

They land on the balcony, a bright flare of light and she is back to that fae form, cold eyes assessing every inch of the house around her. It fells like a mistake to turn his back towards her to walk inside, a mistake that could end with that red hot dagger in between his shoulder blades, maybe even one of those small throwing knives sheathed by her ribs. He can’t help but glance at the leather vest, it was tight to her skin, laced in the back to fit her form. The evidence of the way she’d been ripped from her world shown in the rips in her clothes, in the blood around her collar from the healing wound on her head. It’d started stitching itself together quickly considering how much she’d been bleeding when he found her.

“After you,” he says gesturing towards the hall.

Her eyes wisely slip towards truth teller at his side, but no complaint rises to her lips. She holds her head high as she walks past him, close enough that he could easily grab her and put his blade to her throat, close enough that he caught the scent of pine and snow and embers. She wasn’t scared of him, and with the way she fought, she had every right not to be.

He drifts behind her, giving her single word directions down the familiar halls until they were standing before the door he’d chosen as her room.

“The house will give you whatever you need,” he says, “simply ask and it will appear. If you need anything else, I’m right across the hall.”

If the sentient house was a surprise it didn’t show on her face, instead she asks with a small smirk on her lips, “are you my host or my keeper?”

The teasing tone takes him by surprise, “I’m here to keep a close eye on you. Our last guest had a tendency for surprises.”

She eyes him in that predator like manor, gaze drifting over his shoulder to a wisp of shadow, “keep any wandering eyes to your side of the hall.”

That shadow moves on its own accord, drifting towards her like she’s a magnet. She bares her sharp teeth at the little wisp, scaring it back to Azriel’s side. It hides like a scolded child and he finds himself holding back a chuckle.

“You’ve seen shadows like this before?”

She shakes her head, “not quite. Two of my uncles can control shadows like yours, but they’re not sentient creatures.”

He wasn’t surprised that there weren’t more like him in her world, he’d spent a long time looking for other shadowsingers to help him master his power, in the end it was just him and his shadows who’d figured it out. Even Quinlann’s brother wasn’t like him, not completely.

“They whisper to you,” she states, not a question.

“How’d you know that?”

A breeze drifts past him and she says, “I can feel them in the wind. Can’t quite understand what they’re saying, but I can feel their whispering in your ears.”

“It’s called shadowsinging,” he supplies, he’s not quite sure why but he tells her, “if you spend enough time in the shadows you learn their language.”

She hums, stepping towards her door, “keep the little busybodies close by, I don’t take kindly to little spies in my rooms.”

“As you wish, your highness,” he’s not sure where the title comes from, or the taunting tone.

She throws a look over her shoulder, those eyes blazing instead of cold, “Goodnight, shadowsinger”

The door slams shut behind her and Azriel simply watches. Watches as her shadow fades from the crack beneath, as a cold wind blows through his hair, as his shadows dance with that wind. He stands there for several moments until an amused chuckle sounds in his head.

Don’t let a pretty face distract you brother.

Shut up, Azriel scowls, closing the doors to his minds and turning to his bedroom. The breeze follows him and it gives him the strangest feeling of being watched.

Y/n found that Azriel wasn’t lying when he said the house would give her whatever she asked for. She’d barely thought about a bath before she’d heard running water in the adjacent room.

The bedroom was huge, to her right a large bed centered on the wall that looked like it could comfortably accommodate several people. A seating area to her left with plush couches and low backed chairs, made for winged males like her keeper across the hall she presumed. The red stone walls warm and adorned with a lit fireplace and giant windows overlooking the city far below. She’d admired the view on the flight to the house, but standing there looking at the twinkling lights below, the bright stars above, she could really appreciate the beauty in it. Yet, it didn’t hold a candle to the lights of Orynth in her eyes.

And just like that, the homesickness hit her. She could picture her family, her mother and father raging through the castle, looking for any clues as to where she’d been taken. She could see her uncles barking orders at warriors to search the castle and city surrounding from top to bottom. She could see her distraught aunt shifting into the snow leopard that would tear apart whatever person or thing that would dare harm her niece. What time was it back home, would they work until dawn, would they rest and come back in the morning, would her father hold together the pieces as her mother finally broke?

Y/n stared and stared and stared at that glowing city, wishing she was home, reading a book by the fire in her mother’s sitting room as she listened to her parents bicker back and forth. She’d been reading a romance her uncle had brought her from the castle library in Adarlan. It would still be sitting on the table, the scrap paper bookmark halfway through the well worn pages.

A tray appears on the table next to her, full of meats and cheeses and fruits. She could feel the curious presence around her, the house it seemed was a busybody.

She eyes the plate, “I’m not hungry.”

The tray stays put, and she huffs, pushing away from the windows towards the attached bathing chamber. That presence seems to sigh, clearly frustrated with her but she paid it no mind.

Her body ached, the adrenaline wearing off enough that she could feel each cut and bruise from the vicious way she’d been dragged through that gate and thrown to the garden floor in this strange world. Her head ached, pulsing with pain each step she took, everything ached, her head, her body, her heart.

A giant bath was drawn, steaming water with frothing bubbles that smelled of lavender. There were plush towels on the small stool by the bath, and clean clothes on the counter beneath the mirror. Soft light illuminated the space, she didn’t care to think where it came from, how it all worked. All she cared about was stripping off her tattered and bloodied clothes and submerging herself into that water. She felt each cut burn as she went down, felt the wound on her head scream in pain as she drifted down beneath the surface.

She burned, and kept burning, and burning and burning, and burning.

#this is a very slow slow slow start but whatever #I had to give them a bit of banter #i couldn’t resist #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter

350 notes · View notes

herbalsingularitea · 1 year

Text

Possessive Bernard the elf with a pregnant human!Reader Imagine

—

- After Scott and Carol have their baby it makes Bernard start thinking

- You go on a date after seeing baby Buddy earlier that day and Bernard seems really lost in his thoughts

- With some gentle coaxing you get him to tell you that he’s been thinking about children

- At first you think he just means Buddy and you agree with him that the Claus’s baby is adorable

- He lets it go, just nodding and agreeing with you but you can tell there’s still something on his mind

- Later on during the date you two get into a snowball fight

- He sneak attacks your snow fort and tackles you into the snow where you guys wrestle around trying to shove snow in each others face

- Eventually it devolves into just rolling around making messy snow angels

- Once you get too tired and collapse in the snow, he rolls over top you to give you silly tickly kisses that make you both giggle

- He’s still laughing when “I want to put a baby in you so badly” slips out

- You both freeze and he looks so panicked that he said that out loud but you’re blushing like crazy and ask if he’s serious

- He says he thinks he is and you shyly say you want that too

- He’s never looked so happy in his life and the silly kisses return, slightly more saucy than before

—

- Fast forward to several months later and there’s been random bursts of magic in the workshop

- All the elves start giggling and whispering anytime it happens

- You ask what’s up and Judy explains that uncontrollable magic bursts like that mean that someone’s got an elfling on the way

- Elflings are rare so everyone is super excited for the new baby and are trying everything to figure out who’s pregnant

- You don’t think it could be you since you haven’t had any symptoms and it would be really early if you were

- As time passes and no one comes forward announcing they’re pregnant, everyone is confused

- The magic bursts get stronger and stronger as time goes on

- One day you’re walking through the workshop with Bernard and a whole line of rocking horses explodes in a familiar burst of sparkles

- Every elf freezes as they watch the sparkles settle and then they slowly look over at Bernard and you

- Since Bernard is Head Elf, he’s got the most powerful elf magic in the North Pole and would be the only one capable of doing magic like that

- In one wild display of magic, everyone knows it’s you who’s pregnant

- Judy makes you cocoa to calm you down while you and Bernard try to wrap your heads around becoming parents

- Bernard seems very much in shock and kind of distant with you while Judy, Curtis, and Scott congratulate you both

- You start to worry that he doesn’t want the baby after all because he can hardly look at you

- But all doubts leave you as soon as you get home

- Once the door is closed and you’re alone, he falls to his knees and nuzzles your stomach, giving you so many kisses and refusing to leave your side the rest of the night

- You swear you see him tear up a couple of times when he thinks you aren’t looking

—

- He makes all your favorite foods during your pregnancy and you happily soak up all the extra love and attention he gives you

- He thinks you look so unbelievably beautiful while carrying his child and takes every chance to tell you that

- As you grow, even elves from out of town immediately know your baby is his because his magic is nestled within you now and can be easily recognized by other magical creatures

- Mother Nature takes one look at you and gives you and Bernard a knowing look

- Cupid won’t quit waggling his eyebrows at Bernard

- He rolls his eyes but you know he secretly loves it

- You feel strange sometimes knowing that everyone sees you as his because of this but it makes him so happy

- You start to feel self conscious about how you look. “Ugh. I’m so out of shape and weird looking now.”

- But he’s always so quick to reassure you. “Hard disagree. I love seeing how your body grows to nurture our child. In fact,” he purrs, sidling up to wrap his arms around you, “if you weren’t already pregnant, I’d put another baby in you right now.”

—

- The more time goes on, the more obsessed he gets with touching your belly and talking to the baby

- He never misses saying good morning and good night to his precious little elfling

- He gets more and more possessive of people touching you and will glare and snap at anyone who moves too abruptly around you

- The only one he seems okay with is Carol, which you are so thankful for since she’s the only one who you can talk to about the difficulties of pregnancy

- Bernard gives you lots of belly rubs to soothe the aches and pains and one day while he’s doing that he feels the baby kicking

- He cries

—

- Sometimes when the baby is keeping you awake at night with kicks he’ll roll over and spoon you and put a hand on your belly and push his magic into you and you can feel the baby push their magic back. You don’t know exactly what it is that’s happening but it calms the baby down without fail plus it’s really warm so you always fall back asleep no problem

- On the last leg of your pregnancy, you struggle to fit into a dress you had made for a holiday party months ago

- You’re so mad that you wasted the money and won’t be able to wear it. “God, this is so frustrating!”

- You see him watching in the mirror with a little smirk

- You groan at his look. “Stop smiling. This is all your fault. You’re the one who did this to me in the first place, you jerk”

- His smirk just gets wider. “I sure did.”

- He’s got no shame, that asshole.

—

- Elves are much smaller than humans, so while the pregnancy lasts around 10 months, you only look about 6-7 months pregnant before you give birth

- The actual birth isn’t too hard, but Bernard is so incredibly proud of you

- He keeps going back and forth between kissing you and the baby

- And of course he cries then too

#bernard the elf #bernard the elf x reader #bernard the elf imagine #tsc #the santa clause #bernard x reader #I couldn’t resist #I wanted to get my own hc down somewhere cause I am IMPATIENT #this won’t be exactly how it’s like in holly jolly btw but it does share some hc #tsc imagine #my writing

529 notes · View notes