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I'm Moving Blogs!!! @alicenchanted

I'm so sorry you guys I know this is so annoying. When I started this blog I never imagined it would do as well as it is, it was just a little side blog. I want to be able to follow you guys back and interact with you properly, to be a part of the communities here!! This blog will still be open with all my work thus far, but new things will be posted on a primary blog, @Alicenchanted . My ao3 is the same as always!!

I hope you guys will follow me over there!! And I get to follow you lovelies too now <3

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https://www.tumblr.com/alicenchanted/788160834671132672/can-i-request-azriel-reader-smut-which-covers

I NEED a second part… 🫣

Hush

Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel takes you home after chasing you through the woods. (technically a part 2 to this fic, but it can be read alone!)

Word Count: 1,863

Content Warnings: knife play (no blood drawn), use of the nickname "bunny" for reader

Author's Note: I wasn't going to add more, buttttttttttt I love you guys so here's a little part two. It's a bit rushed since I didn't want you to think I forgot about you, anon! Hope you enjoy :)

Read on ao3

“Stay quiet,” the Shadowsinger whispered as you snuck into the House of Wind. Your noise wouldn’t be a problem. After spending all night running through the dark forests of Windhaven, you had already exhausted your screams.

“But isn’t the High Lord here?” You asked nervously. Already Rhysand and his General had caught you with Azriel, and the position had been rather compromising. This House belonged to all of them, and the chances of them having fallen asleep already were slim.

“He is,” Azriel answered, his lips quirking up at the corners. “Why? Did you want my friends to watch?”

Mortified, your eyes widened at his tease. “Cauldron, no… I think we’ve scarred them already.” Your hand drifted down to cover the seam of your pants, still tattered from where he had dragged Truth-Teller’s sharp point along your pussy. 

Azriel’s eyes dipped down, watching you try to hide yourself. “Then I suggest you listen, and keep that sweet mouth closed.” He took a step closer, inching you toward the wall of the den. His hazel eyes glinted with mischief in the dim light of the fire as he stalked closer.

“I thought you wanted to keep this a secret,” you mumbled, backing up slowly. Surely he didn’t expect you to run again, not in such a small space. You would never get away. 

Azriel’s eyes never strayed from the prize between your legs. He herded you backward until your shoulders hit the wall. He taunted you with a voice that made your knees weak, “Well they already know, now. And you look so cute when you blush like that, bunny.”

He grinned at the shiver that wracked through your sore body. “Az…” 

Impossibly close now, he pushed up against you to hold your body to the wall, ducking down to whisper in your ear. “I could tie you up and leave you for them to find. They should know how pretty you are, and how lucky of a male I am,” he purred lowly.

“No…”

Azriel smirked, pressing a kiss to the column of your throat. “No? I think you’d like that very much. My shadows think so too.”

Something soft and airy slid up your thigh, easily sneaking through the tear in your pants. A thin tendril slid between your folds, softly petting the warm skin there. “Fuck.”

“Language,” he chided, nipping your ear as his shadow pinched your clit. “Little bunnies don’t talk that way.” You hissed softly at the feeling of his shadows against your pussy. The tendril eagerly petting between your legs grew more bold, tracing around your entrance as if flaunting how wet you were. Azriel grinned. “Something tells me you won’t be putting up much of a fight this time.”

 Not that you had earlier, either. You weren’t a fast runner, and now you were far too tired and too eager to be sated by him again. “Just fuck me, please.”

Azriel hummed at your instinct to ask nicely, looking pleased, but you were a fool to think that would be enough. You imagined, as the Night Court’s blade, that he was used to groveling and pleading far more moving than that.

“Is that your idea of begging? Maybe I haven’t teased you enough.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the words breaking as a shadow surged up and into your body. It found that soft, secret spot inside you way too quickly, pressing and curling into it until you had to hold Azriel’s shoulders to keep steady. 

But almost as quickly as it had entered you, the shadow pulled away. “I think I loosened you up enough earlier,” Azriel said, clearly smug about the way your body had yet to recover from his rough pounding. 

“Oh, please, Az,” you whined, no longer above any sort of propriety as his canines dropped. They grew long and feral with every breath he took, his blood pumping with the scent of you. You were still sweaty despite the Windhaven chill, but he didn’t seem to mind. It seemed as though he preferred it.

He grazed the sharp ends of his teeth down your neck, knowing how sensitive you were there, before tugging down the neck of your shirt to leave little nips and bites. “Off,” he growled, tugging at the loose material. “I need to see you.”

“Azriel!” You protested, whispering furiously. “What if someone comes downstairs, I can’t take it off.” The wall he had you pinned to was right in the center of the House of Wind. Anyone seeking out the kitchen, the library, the hearth… they would have to pass you first.

Within seconds Truth-Teller was out of its hilt and in Azriel’s scarred hands. He held the sharp point up to your throat, warning you to stay still. Slowly, holding your gaze with his eyes, Azriel cut clean through your top. It peeled away from your body, leaving behind only your lacy bra. 

His eyes lit up at the sight. “You dressed up so pretty for me, only to let me fuck you into the dirt like a slut,” he tsked, bending down to press kisses to the swells of your breasts. “You should have told me, I would’ve taken the time to appreciate all this.” 

You moaned softly, and his kisses became more fervent. His lips were soft and reverent despite the growls rumbling in his throat. Lower and lower he trailed until he hit the line of your bra. 

“Don’t-” you warned, but it was too late. He snagged the delicate lace between his teeth, shredding right through it with his sharp teeth. Damn fae. 

“The High Lord bankrolls me,” Azriel purred, face between your breasts. “I’ll get you a hundred more if it means you’ll let me tear them off of you.”

Truth-Teller found its way back into his belt, freeing up his hands to cup and squeeze every curve of your form. His shadows followed eagerly, tracing beneath your breasts and soothing the bites Azriel left along your soft skin. Their dark, wispy forms curled possessively over your nipples, chittering quietly. Azriel chuckled, leaving kisses above your navel. “They say you look beautiful tonight, bunny. So pretty…”

You moaned, utterly at his mercy as he began to tug at the waist of your pants. “Please, Azriel, somewhere more private…” 

“Fine,” he murmured. His arms looped beneath your rear as he hoisted you up and over his shoulder, tucked beneath a broad wing. He walked you up the stairs, taking care not to jostle you too much with the motion. “No complaints? I thought you would hate being towed around like a damsel.”

The sound you made was nothing more than a muffled, needy whine. You were too desperate to care right now, and you weren’t in the position to be demanding.

“Aww, poor baby,” he teased, laying you out onto his mattress with a gentle touch. “You’re just so tired, hmm? Too tired to do anything but take my cock?”

You nodded, hooking your legs around his trim waist as he climbed between your thighs. 

But he wasn’t satisfied with that. His hands grasped your ankles, slowly folding your legs back and up to rest on his shoulders.

“I’m going to need you like this if you’re going to take all of me,” he said with a smirk. Rarely was he so cocky, but he deserved to be when it came to his size. Azriel slid down his pants, tugging out his thick cock. It was hard, achingly so, and he stroked it slowly. He enjoyed having your eyes on him, watching the way precum dribbled from the tip as he waited to mount you. 

“Please,” you whispered eagerly, but it seemed he was already done waiting. Azriel’s wings flared as he thrusted forward, pushing in half way before pausing. 

“Sore?” he asked. He loved to push to your limits, but he didn’t want to cross them.

You shook your head, eyes fluttering shut when he filled you nearly all the way with another deep thrust.  “Just a bit more, bunny,” he cooed. His shadows traced up your figure to curl around your face and neck, soothing you as Azriel held your legs back further. “Another inch.”

The groan that escaped from your lips was downright filthy as the head of his shaft bumped the entrance of your womb. The stretch ached, but he worked you open with gentle pumps until your gasps turned to mewls of pleasure.

“Better now?”

You nodded, and it was the only cue he needed. His thrusts were sharp but careful, each push aiming for the spot that made your vision go dark. It was too much for you, but at the same time, you couldn’t get enough.

He bent over you, forcing your legs further back until you were folded in half beneath him, at the mercy of every punishing slap of his hips. “You look so pretty like this,” he forced out between grunts, his teeth gritted as he held himself back. 

You moaned into his ear, hands grasping sheet, his arms, the headboard, as he pounded you into the bed. His sweet praises had you seeing stars, and soon enough you were falling over the edge. He groaned at the way your cunt tightened up around him, fluttering with each pulse of pleasure coursing through your stiff limbs. 

“Another,” he purred into your ear.

“What?” you breathed, losing sense of everything around you.

Azriel shifted his hips, slamming into your sweet spot harder than before as one of his hands traced up your thigh. His thumb settled over your clit, stroking the swollen bud with gentle motions as he rolled his cock into you. “I want one more from you tonight.”

He was panting now, desperate to hold back until you had cum again.

“I can’t-”

“Hush.” He pressed his lips to yours, his hips moving slower as he circled your clit, stubbornly coaxing you back to the edge.

“Azriel, I can’t,” you insisted as your muscles went taut with pressure.

“You can do it,” he sang, lips moving to your neck. He sucked at the sensitive spot near your shoulder, the one beneath your ear, the one above your collarbone, laving his tongue everywhere he could reach. His thrusts stayed perfectly steady, the motion quick and shallow and perfect.

“Shit.”

He chuckled, vibrations causing your skin to pebble as you shivered. “I know. Just relax.”

He kept your legs spread, crooked back for you as every bone in your body went suddenly limp. Sparks of white hot pleasure coursed through you as he held you through another orgasm, never once faltering in his motions. 

“Oh fuck…”

The breathy sound had him gritting his teeth as he finally spilled deep inside you. Soft praises fell from Azriel’s lips as he pushed his face into your neck, peppering little kisses there until you came back down to earth.

“You did so well-”

A sudden sharp knocking sound echoed through the door to his room, rattling the hinges. 

“Will you two be quiet? Goddamn, when do they learn…”

General Cassian’s angry muttering faded as he walked away and Azriel sighed into your neck.

“I told you they were scarred.”

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Decided to do some doodles of my fic ocs, starting with this cutie here.

Please picture her how ever you like, but here’s my interpretation of Enid Vanserra from my ACOTAR fanfic, Lords of Choice !! She is Eris’s daughter and Nyx Archeron’s mate :)

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Lords of Choice, Part 3

Eris Vanserra’s Daughter X Nyx Archeron

Summary: Elain Archeon recieves a vision of Enid in The Prison. She herself knows what it is like to be trapped by a mating bond, and she decides to free Enid with the help of Lucien and Eris. Freedom comes at a cost, though. The Cauldron does not give its blessings without an exchange.

Word Count: 5,500

Pairings: (Broken Bond) Nyx x Vanserra!OC, Feyre x Rhysand, Nesta x Cassian, Elain x Azriel

Warnings: mentions of blood, kidnapping and imprisonment, manipulation

AN: Ahhh this is the end!! This little series was so much fun to write, thank you again anon for the request. Some Amren and Rhys action has been added with gestures to plotting. Thank you to my readers as well for all your love and support, it means so so much to me and I'm so grateful for all of your likes and comments. I hope you enjoy this little finale.

Enid Vanserra is an original character. She and Nyx are both adults in this fic.

Also, I drew Enid! Here’s my doodle of her.

Read on Ao3 / Part 1 / Part 2

In her mind there were snakes. Black ones, big and nasty. There was a candle, and a key, and a cord of light that shone brighter than her own ever had. 

Elain Archeron opened silvery, vacant eyes, gasping as she shot up in bed. Beside her, Azriel lay peacefully asleep, wings twitching as he snored. Most nights, she would have smiled at the sight and thanked the Cauldron for the peace on his face. But the Cauldron… she would not thank it yet. 

Over a century ago the King of Hybern had thrown Elain into its chilly depths,  and every day since had been spent grappling with the ‘gift’ it had granted her. In times of peace, her visions were sparse, even happy, occasionally. Tonight, this vision felt heavy. 

Elain found herself falling into routine. A night with visions meant she would not sleep. She descended the steps of the Riverhouse, aiming to steep her homegrown herbs into a tea. Madja, Rhysand’s most trusted healer, had given her the recipe. 

There were voices in the main level of the house. Elain was no stranger to what the night brought to her circle. More than once she had seen Rhysand talking to Nuala and Cerridwen, twin wraiths that sometimes struggled to balance their duty with their friendship to her. Elain had also been the first to notice Feyre’s pregnancy, hearing her bouts of sickness early into the hours of morning.

Elain recognized Rhys’s voice first. He sounded… tense. Uncertain. “Things have changed now.”

“They haven’t,” a silky feminine voice asserted. Amren. 

“You can’t possibly believe this is… that this is right. And once Eris finds out-”

“Eris already knows. The Autumn Manor is heavily warded, the second Nyx entered he would know. He’s waiting to see what we’re going to do.”

Elain’s eyes widened a bit. Nyx had gone to the Autumn manor then. To see his mate?

“That’s my concern, though, Amren. How did he get through the wards in the first place? Only Nesta has ever been able to break through that kind of protection, that time beneath the Prison.”

“It’s the work of the Cauldron.”

Rhys sighed. “We have to bring her back.”

“No. You listen to me. This is an opportunity. We don’t know yet how his powers function, the extent. Agitation, fear… those are powerful emotions. We need to watch and see what she brings out in him.”

“I’m not going to torture my son.”

Amren turned angry. She was always quick to anger, though. “You and Feyre are acting foolish. Each day you spend letting him ‘find himself’ is a day you risk him being taken and used as a pawn in some greater force’s plan. We need to know his powers, Nyx needs to know his powers, too. You’ve refused to send him on missions, and now look. He’s restless, he can’t control himself.”

“Don’t talk about my son that way.”

“Rhysand,” Amren snapped. “Look at him. He’s a bigger fool than that pitiful Lord of the Spring Court.”

“That’s why we should be bringing her back.”

“He’s not going to hurt her,” Amren leveled. “He couldn’t if he tried..”

“So your answer is to leave her in the Prison’s chambers? It’s barbaric.”

Elain covered her mouth, noticing it had fallen open during the course of the conversation. Azriel had never allowed her anywhere near the place where he… conducted business. But she knew there were creatures that lurked there, big scaly things. Just like her vision. 

“My answer has not changed since the Bond revealed itself,” Amren said. “We watch and wait.”

“Fine,” Rhysand gritted his teeth. “This is a stupid reason to risk war between our courts.” Rhys’s voice faded as he and Amren began to disperse. 

Eris’s daughter was down in the Prison, locked away by- by Nyx. 

The smart thing to do, Elain knew, was to tell Feyre. But her body did not want to move that way, as if some invisible force was telling her no, think. 

Nesta then? But Cassian would not go against his brother’s orders and Nesta knew what it was like to need time. She craved her bond just as fiercely as she fought it. Nesta did not understand the feeling of being trapped in this way, her love for Cassian predated the Cauldron’s will.

Only one other person, Elain could think, would understand. He had seen her pain, and respected it, despite what so many other males would have done. 

Elain quietly snuck back up to her room. She needed Truth-Teller. Azriel was protective over his weapons, often kept them out of sight when he was home in both fear of danger, but also a need for relaxation and time away from them. But Truth-Teller was always nearby. Azriel’s shadows stirred, snaking off of his stretched-out form to greet Elain. Her lip bled between her teeth with worry. She had to trust that his shadows would trust her, too. 

“Please, I need you to tell me where Truth-Teller is. Don’t wake him up.” 

She held her breath for a moment, waiting to see Azriel’s eyes flutter open. They didn’t. A tendril of dark smoke coiled around Elain’s wrist lovingly, brushing her skin with a sweet touch as it tugged her forward. She let it guide her arm down to Azriel’s pillow. Carefully, the shadow snuck under the downy cushion, pulling Truth-Teller out just enough that Elain could grab onto it.

“Thank you.” Now, she would only have to find Lucien, somehow. Long ago, when Elain finally chose Azriel, she had gotten Lucien’s permission to sever their Bond. 

Leaving it intact was possible. After all, some fae went their whole lives loving and never even finding their mate. But Elain loved Lucien. She loved him in a way that meant she could not bear to see him suffer by her hand. Severing the Bond meant Lucien no longer felt deep, intrinsic pain when they were apart, but it also meant she could never again find his mind with her own. 

Elain whispered to Azriel’s shadows, which had taken to peppering her skin with small kiss-like touches. “I need you to find Lucien. He needs to winnow into the Prison and meet me there.”

Elain could not winnow. It was something many powerful fae could do, like Feyre, but she and Nesta were unable to grasp it. The Prison was far from Velaris- miles far- and winnowing would be the best way to get Enid out. But how would Elain be able to make it there without winnowing or flying herself? Unless…

“Can you bring me there?” Elain asked the shadows. Azriel could travel through them, she knew. How it worked was a different matter, though, and there was no telling if his shadows would be able to travel with her.

But Elain also could not risk waking Azriel. Like Cassian, he wouldn’t like going against Rhys and Amren. He certainly wouldn’t want Elain scheming with Lucien. Azriel was sometimes prone to unreasonable jealousy, which was cute, but very unhelpful.

A few tendrils of shadow disappeared, off to find Lucien and somehow direct him to the Night Court, but the majority of them drifted away from Azriel’s body to cocoon around Elain’s body. The scent of night-chilled mist filled her nose as darkness swarmed her, clinging tight to every inch of skin.

Azriel’s shadows brushed against Elain’s eyelids, guiding her to close them. Then, only then, she was weightless.

Everything felt like nothing. The ground was gone, the room was gone. Azriel was gone. It was not like the force of being winnowed. Winnowing, ripping through space and time, your body felt a sort of whiplash. Traveling through Azriel’s shadows felt like nothing but cool darkness. Elain gripped Truth-Teller tightly in her fist, desperate for some tether to reality as she drifted.  

And then her feet met solid ground. She opened her eyes to see a hallway of doors lining the path ahead of her. She knew that was the furthest inside the Prison that his shadows could bring her. 

“Elain?”

Fire ignited and gilded the walls of the cave. Lucien was there, looking at Elain like she was crazy. She must’ve been. In her haste to leave, Elain hadn’t bothered to put proper shoes on. She was standing at the entrance to the Prison-a place full of unknown horrors- in wool socks and her softest pink knitted pajamas. 

There was no time to feel embarrassed. “Lucien, you came.”

“I’ll always come when you need me,” Lucien said. “I made that promise to you, and I don’t intend to break it.” He shivered, lowering his voice as something scratched against the walls of its cell, “but could you please tell me why we’re here ?”

“It’s Enid,” Elain whispered back. Lucien went completely still, but he did not interrupt her. “I had a vision of the Prison, and- and a candle and some other things- but I heard Rhys and Amren talking. Something about Nyx bringing her down here. He’s- He’s been really torn up about Enid’s rejection… They said Eris knew she was here but he was waiting to see what move the Night Court would make first-”

“Never,” Lucien said. “Eris would never.” There was unshaken confidence in those words. Lucien had a complicated relationship with his brother, but this was not something he questioned. Maybe Eris wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

Elain tucked that secret away inside herself, and took a breath, blocking out the increase in sound from the cells around her. She had to stay focused. “Amren wanted to keep her here as a tool to observe Nyx’s powers. He can’t cope with the magic of the Bond and I know how hard it was for you but- I just can’t imagine how scared she is, and helpless- help me find her.”

Lucien scented the air, every muscle in his body on edge. He shook his head, his metal eye clicking and whirring as he scanned the cavern again. “The wards are too strong, I can’t smell her.”

Elain nodded, then steeled herself as she set into a brisk walk. They wouldn’t get anywhere just standing around, but they couldn’t be loud either. There were too many things in here, all lying in wait of freedom, or their next meal.

~~~

When she came to, her head was reeling. A dull ache had settled into the creases of her mind, and she knew it had been thoroughly searched. 

“Nyx?” Enid whispered, but there was no response. She hoped it meant that he had left her here, but he was oh so quiet. He could be here still,  watching her, hidden in the dark.

Enid tried to stand and found that she could. She had not been tied down then. Something strange had been cuffed around her wrists, though.

They were manacles. Not chained together, but tight on the joint of her hands. The cuffs had a dim blue glow, and Enid recognized it from her studies in war tactics. Faebane. It was used to null a fae’s magic.

Sure enough, no flame would ignite in her hands. Enid cursed. Cursing was something she rarely did, but this seemed like a good time. What else was there to do? Nyx had taken the keys, left her down in a dark pit… a pit with snakes, to make matters worse. 

Below her bare feet, under a mesh canopy stained with blood, was a trench full of roiling, scaly bodies. The only comfort Enid could think of was the knowledge that Nyx would not have left her here if she was in any real harm. Her dying would certainly destroy their Bond, and if his current behavior was any indication of how he felt… that would be the last thing Nyx wanted.

It had been stupid not to officially reject him sooner. Playing along, taking time to think, it had only made things worse. Enid should’ve let herself be tied to a tree for the Burning ritual. Then, Nyx would have been so embarrassed from her public rejection that he would’ve never pulled this stunt.

She was stupid, unwilling to do what was necessary. She would make a horrible High Lady.

But those were unhelpful thoughts. Enid stood, walking straight until she made it to the edge of the cavern. Her hands touched the stone, and she walked along it, feeling for that crease where a door was hidden. 

After nearly 15 minutes, she had lapped the room. There was nothing. Whatever door existed to this room of the Prison, it was capable of sealing air tight. Night Court magic.

Enid pushed her back against the wall and slid down the length of the rock until she landed on the floor, waist-length red hair pooling out around her. She hoped all the blood was concentrated near that grate in the ground. Throwing out this dirty nightgown would be the first thing she did when she made it home. If she made it home. Unhelpful, again. 

But where was her dad? Had he noticed her missing? Did the Night Court’s Inner Circle know she was here? Did anyone? This could be grounds for war. But Eris didn’t want war right now. Enid remembered his words, ‘You are your own person, but you are also an extension of my court.’

Maybe he would not come for her at all. He was the High Lord of Autumn first, not her father. 

Enid sulked against the wall, willing herself not to cry like a child. The cold was beginning to bite at her, now that her magic had been poisoned, and little bumps rose on her forearms. No fire lit her bones from the inside. Her nightgown had been fashioned for the temperate air of the Autumn Manor, not the biting chill of winter in Velaris.

You’re awake.

Nyx’s voice was in her head, inching down the bond. Enid could feel him there, at the edges of her mind’s perception. His form in that spectral realm was terrifying, like some scaly, winged beast. There were myths of those beasts in her Court. In some stories, they were even fire breathing creatures. Ironic.

Enid, please answer me.

She wanted to ignore Nyx, but boredom was eating at her. There was no sense of time in this room, and she was in near pure darkness. Fae could go mad from that kind of isolation.

Why don’t you come here and face me? She said, entering the space between them, the Mating Bond. Her form was different than usual, solid and dark like ash instead of a writhing fire. The faebane weakened her in this plane of existence, too. 

The High Lady advised me to give you space, Nyx said quietly.

Your mom , Enid corrected.

Yes , he said, almost bashful. Are you cold? I can bring you a dress, or a sweater. 

Enid simmered with anger. Nyx was definitely looking for reasons to come to her. Maybe Feyre had put her foot down with him. Finally. Don’t pretend to care.

I do care about you , he insisted.

She rued the loss of her fire, but it wouldn’t have helped her much anyways against Nyx. Then come take off these cuffs.

You know I can’t do that.

Coward, she hissed. He had even had to knock her out to do it. 

Somewhere in the distance, Enid heard footsteps. She sat up straighter, leaning an elegantly pointed ear up against the cavern wall. The footsteps were growing louder, closer to wherever her cell lay in the labyrinth of the mountain.

I didn’t want you to get hurt… Nyx said. You might have struggled and this way was safer.

“Enid?” The sound was muffled through thick layers of obsidian rock, but hope flared in her chest. It sounded like- like her Uncle Lucien. 

I’ll come visit you tomorrow, I promise , Nyx went on, his voice sullen but normal. He couldn’t hear Lucien, then. Enid’s heart leapt, but she tightened her face into a mask of rage. If he caught wind of her Uncle’s presence here… she didn’t want to know what would happen. 

What to say? What to say that wouldn’t sound suspicious? Leave me alone, Nyx.

More often than not, her anger manifested in a quite bratty tone. It was believable, she hoped.

Tomorrow, Nyx repeated firmly.

“Enid!” The voice called to her again, so close. Enid kept her face still as she slowly withdrew from the bond. It was hard to act so calm, to keep her heart from racing out of her body, but her eyes adjusted themselves to the real world as she carefully cut the connection.

As soon as she was sure Nyx was out of her mind, her shields thickly in place, Enid ran to the wall of the Prison, slamming her hands against the jagged rock. “Lucien! I’m in here!”

Again and again Enid slapped the rock, skin dragging against the sharp surface. She hissed as her hands began to bleed, but she did not pause.

~~~

Elain’s nostrils flared at the smell of blood. “Lucien,” she breathed. “Wait.”

Lucien paused and scented the air, holding out a palm full of fire as he stared ahead. “It’s Enid’s… I- I have to get Eris.”

Elain bit her lip. She hadn’t wanted to see this escalate… but it seemed there was no other option. “Be quick,” Elain mumbled.

Lucien’s form folded into the edges of her perception and Elain was thrust into darkness. She shivered. This place was creepy… 

Elain turned her nose back toward Enid’s scent, trying not to think of the Prison’s rows of doors and the creatures within them. She breathed through each forward step into the blinding dark, one foot in front of the next. 

There was only one way Elain truly trusted to find Enid. Her magic came and went as it pleased most of the time, visions breaking through the shields of her mind without warning. Using it, attempting to control it… it had consequences. That night during the war against Hybern, she had seen her fiance- ex fiance. It had felt more real than her memories of being human. 

But Elain would not be afraid now. There was someone counting on her that was not all powerful, someone who could not bend fate to her will in the way the Archeron sisters had been allowed to too many times.

“Enid,” Elain said into the dark. She felt for her power, speaking to… well, the Cauldron. “Show me where Enid is,” she murmured to herself.

Nothing.

“Please,” Elain whispered. 

Again nothing happened, but… something was lurking. It wasn’t physical, not like breath or touch. It was as if an eye had opened, peering at her from afar. Elain sucked in a breath. The Cauldron recognized her. She had received its gifts, after all. 

The magic winding towards her, reaching back to Elain’s outstretched hand, was old and thick. It felt like led in her stomach.

This time, the Cauldron would not offer her any blessings. She would have to make an exchange. A bargain.

The walls turned silvery to her sight, her true sight. The Cauldron was teasing her with the offer of magic. It would show her the way if she paid its price.

“What do you want?”

Elain’s eyes rolled back as she was thrust into a vision, her body slumping into the nearest rock.

Tipping scales of gold, a single bright cord. A blade that must be Truth-Teller. One string dividing into two. Somewhere distant and far away. A promise.

Elain found herself agreeing, though she did not know if the choice would be right. Perhaps she would damn them both into a worse fate than each other. But she had to hope.

Her flesh seared with burning pain as her eyes rolled back into place. She looked for the tattoo that would now be inked onto her body. It was a custom of the Night Court, a promise of death if she did not fulfill the bargain. Her wrists were marred with shapesshe could not make out in the fark, but it didn’t matter now.

“Now give me what I asked for.” 

Elain stood, wiping at her likely dirty pink pajamas with a sour face. The walls ahead of her were still silvered with light, but now it pulsed. The sheen moved forward, stopping to light up a rectangular crease in the cavern’s side. One touch and the pannel opened.

The red headed girl looked feral, digging her bloody hands into the rock. She looked at Elain with wide eyes, as if she were frightened of her. “Please, don’t make me go- I don’t want to.”

Elain put her hands up, trying to look non threatening. Enid was taller than she was, but Elain shrank down anyways. Who wasn’t afraid of the Night Court? “I’m not going to hurt you, or take you anywhere except home.”

Enid Vanserra did not relax. Her posture was rigid, eyes darting to the exit over Elain’s shoulder. Elain thought to tell her not to run, but it would have made her seem suspicious. “I need your help, too,” she said slowly.

Enid’s eyes shifted from wary distrust, to wary curiosity. It was a step in the right direction, Elain supposed.

“I made a promise, in order to free you,” she continued, approaching Enid. It was dangerous, Elain knew, to free her first. If Enid escaped before the bargain could be fulfilled… 

But people would be coming. Elain was Made, and Lucien a close ally to the Night Court, but Eris’s arrival would certainly trigger the wards that notified the Night Court of an entrance to the Prison.

Enid flinched as Elain reached out,  but she pointed to the faebane manacles around Enid’s wrists. The girl took a moment to breathe, but offered up her hands hesitantly.

Elain’s eyes turned to pools of pure light as they filled with the Cauldron’s magic. Enid’s cuffs peeled away like wilting flowers at her touch. 

The effects of faebane could last hours on the weak, stifling magic and pausing healing, but mere moments passed before the girl’s red hair lit up in flames. 

Elain held her breath, but Enid did not run.

“What did you bargain?” Enid said clearly, her voice strong for a fae so young. Enid was a good kid, braver than Elain had been in her own human youth. She imagined that her eyes, possessed with the Cauldron’s magic, would be quite frightening. But Enid did not show fear.

“I can show you how to sever your bond, to free Nyx and yourself. But I’ve already meddled once in the magic of the Cauldron’s mating bonds.” Elain smiled sadly, thinking of the pale string that once burned within herself. “Severing two… the universe becomes unbalanced. I- I have to forge a new bond to replace it.”

Enid’s brows furrowed, not understanding.

“You won’t be free,” Elain clarified. “A bond will form anew within you… to some other soul. Nyx as well. Two bonds to replace two bonds.” 

In the glow of Enid’s fiery hair, Elain’s tattoos were clearly visible now. Two keys, one adorning each wrist.

Enid nodded, understanding what was about to take place. “Just show me what to do.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more.” Elain said. She wanted Enid to be aware of the full extent of her promise. “It might be worse, even. I won’t be able to tell who you’ll be mated to, or where they are, or what they are like-”

“When the time comes, I will face it.” Enid said firmly.

Elain nodded. She held up Truth-Teller, its matte black hilt absorbing the gold of Enid’s fire. In the half-light, the sharp metal almost turned to phantom shadow. “This will hurt.”

~~~

“She’s in here.”

Eris pushed his brother aside as he stormed into the Prison. “Out of my way.”

Lucien scoffed at the rude touch, but followed Eris anyway. Eris’s whole form was burning with rage, both inside and out. The Night Court was lucky to have walls of stone. Anything else would have already been succumbing to his fire.

On and on they went, deeper and deeper.. The halls of the Prison were lined with cells, each containing incomprehensible horrors. This was no place to keep a girl, a child. Eris would kill that boy, and then his parents.  

But how had Nyx snuck through the wards? Autumn’s manor was so heavily magicked from Beron’s reign. It should have been impossible for him to break them, let alone without Eris knowing. Eris shut away the thought for later, storming faster down the path.

Shadows moved across the wall, jumping across harsh contours as the brothers ventured on. Door after door after door down this long, winding tunnel, and Eris was sick with worry. 

Then, a dark patch broke the pattern. There was a rectangular pass shaped big enough for the Night Court’s winged brutes. A hole, an opening, and Elain Archeron’s sweet voice ringing through. “This will hurt.”

Eris kicked into a run, mind spiralling into instant panic at the echo of Elain’s words. “Don’t touch her!”

But Eris could move no further as he found himself up against a solid wall of darkness.

The High Lord of the Night Court melted out of the inky black. Then the silent forms of his High Lady, The Morrigan, and Amren. 

“Lucien, what a surprise to see you here,” Rhysand said calmly.

Eris growled at the slight. How could he have the gall to ignore him? To only address Lucien? “Get out of my way,” Eris growled. It seemed to be the only phrase he was capable of speaking.

“Now, now, let’s just talk this out-”

“Get out of my way,” he gritted. Eris braced a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder and shoved him back with as much force as he could gather, allowing his fire to singe through the Lord’s snobbish jacket at the same time.

Feyre hissed at the sight of his attack and dewey droplets gathered at her palms, forming dangerously thick spheres of water.Fire and water would be a dangerous mix. Eris remembered the episode at the High Lord’s meeting so many years ago. 

Lucien put a hand on Eris’s back, trying to step in front of him. But to play the diplomatic emissary at a time like this?

Eris pushed Lucien back behind him again, then turned to face the Inner Circle. “Give me back my child.”

“I assure you she is unharmed,” Rhysand said, giving his High Lady a look that had her backing down.

“I heard your stupid wench of a sister threatening her,” Eris’s voice rose. Panic still simmered in his core. What was Elain doing to her?

Feyre’s eyes widened at the realization that Elain was there with Enid, and she turned toward the hole in the wall, aiming to run straight to it. 

No. She wouldn’t. Eris slid a hand to the side of the cave and sent liquid fire running across the surface. It traveled through the cracks like a track of lightning, dipping down to ignite the floor in front of the High Lady’s feet. 

But then the boy was there. Nyx. A winnowing portal of darkness opened and Nyx dropped into the cavern gracefully, pausing next to his mother’s form. 

As if Eris’s wall of flame was merely a candle, Nyx snuffed it. Shadows gathered at the boy’s fingers for only a moment to instantly null Eris’s flame. Nyx stepped through the empty, singed space, approaching the cell where Eris knew Enid had been kept. Feyre followed.

“Don’t you touch her,” Eris roared as he leapt forward. 

The Morrigan drew her sword and slid to block him, her blade aimed straight to Eris’s chest. She narrowed her eyes, blonde hair pulled back for battle. “I always knew I’d feel bad for the bitch you sired. No woman should be forced to have your company.”

Eris was seeing red, so desperate and angry that all sense had left him. He lunged for Morrigan, aiming to rip the blade from her with his own bare hands when a sudden shriek of pain echoed through the small space.

Nyx. He was screaming, dropping to the floor right before the entrance. His wings went limp as he clutched his stomach. He was gasping for air in ragged breaths. 

Feyre cried out, sliding to her knees next to him as the others turned, Amren and Rhys rushing to their sides as the Morrigan guarded them. 

“Nyx?” Fear laced Rhysand’s tone in a way Eris had never heard, but he could not find it in himself to care. Nyx sputtered and choked, hands dropping to brace the floor, before he was finally able to pull in air. It came in deep, warbled breaths.

From the mouth of the Prison’s darkest cell, Eris saw his daughter step forward. She held a sharp blade in one hand, and clutched her stomach with the other. Once again in panic, Eris scented the air. Had Elain stabbed her? No. Elain held Enid’s shoulders, walking her out from the opening. She looked at Lucien, then at Eris, eyes locking onto each other’s. 

Elain dipped her chin into a nod. 

Eris swallowed hard as ticking seconds somehow slowed, the Archeron sister’s eyes glowing like empty spheres of molten metal. 

Time had stopped. Rhysand and his Circle were nearly frozen in their places above Nyx’s hunched body. But his daughter was not. 

Enid smiled at Elain. One quick glance to her as she handed over the dagger in her hands. Eris’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized her passing Truth-Teller into Elain’s grip. 

Blade returned and body freed, Enid turned back to Eris and stumbled toward him, posture crunched in pain. Eris’s heart broke at the sight.

It took only one steady step forward for Eris to confirm that in this brief moment, time ignored him to.

He ran to Enid with knees that threatened to buckle, but he forced them to hold firm. Eris slid his arms around the trembling body of his daughter and he hoisted Enid into the air. 

“Are you okay,” Eris spoke furiously into Enid’s soft hair, whispering to the ratty tangles at the crown of her head.

“Yes,” she said. “I will be.”

Eris looked up to meet Elain’s otherworldly gaze. “What- I don’t-“

Elain shook her head as the light in her empty eyes began to fade. 

“Do you want to come with us? You don’t have to stay here.” Eris surprised himself with the statement. He was not a generous man unless it suited his needs. But Elain had somehow done something very important for Enid, and though Eris  didn’t know what it was, he would not abandon the Archeron to face her consequences alone. 

“Go,” Elain said, leaving no room for conversation. “Take her home.”

He didn’t need to be told again.

Eris tightened his grip on Enid with one hand and touched his brother’s arm with the other. He supposed he could at least spare Lucien the headache. Nyx turned to face him, eyes wide with pain as he made to stand.

Time returned to Prythian. But the Vanserras were already gone.

~~~

Enid had once wished that she could say she felt freer, but it would never be true. In that space deep inside Enid’s core there was still a golden thread, strong and bright. 

Somewhere out there, someone else kept the other end of that thread hidden in their own spirit. A Mate, a soul that she had never crossed paths with.

Time, though, had taught Enid that some freedoms were greater than others. Maybe she did still have a mate out there, but she also had a fresh start. She could do things right, or never do them at all, and she would never compromise whichever of the two she chose.

But the tea in front of her was getting cold, and it was no use dwelling on the past. Not when the present was right there for her.

Eris Vanserra finished a cup of green, spotted with delicate pink rosehips straight from the garden. He hummed thoughtfully, swirling the liquid in his mouth. “Far too bitter, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t ask,” Elain Archeron said, turning up her nose at Enid’s father.

Uncle Lucien laughed at her ire, kicking back in his seat. It was something Eris despised, footprints on the ottoman, but he did not bother to correct him.

“How are you feeling, Enid?” Eris asked softly, smiling at his daughter. His tone was laced with worry, as it always was.

Enid’s gaze flicked down to the small, black key inked to her wrist. It was a promise, a sacrifice, an exchange. A reminder of how far she had come, and how far she still had left to go. 

Enid lifted her head up proudly, meeting Eris’s warm brown eyes. She smiled back. 

“I’m doing well, Dad.” 

Tag list: @aleksandra25cracow , @illyriansforautumnheirs , @serena-capella

[sideb-alicenchanted]

I have a mini tip? request? if you are up for it. If you would rather not I wouldn't blame you I love the fic anyway. Would you mind adding a little Amren/Rhysand conversation in the beginning about the situation before they find all this out? I love how unhinged and pragmatic she is, she would not care about social norms and speak her mind fully (in my interpretation, I would love to have yours) Nothing huge just one or two lines by her would be enough.

Absolutely! Mor and Amren were slept on a little bit in this fic I’ll def have them more present in the next part :)

[sideb-alicenchanted]

You did soo good with the request. Thank you I love it. I love how people operate in your fic with their subtle manipulations and them being so aware of the impression this will make and doing it specifically for it. The whole men who yearn thing was so spot on with how people generally work. And same I don't hate anyone, I enjoy everyone and that's why I enjoy putting them through these difficult situations and angst.

I really loved the fic, you went above and beyond my expectations, thank you.

Ahhh so glad you liked it Anon! This makes me so so happy to hear <3 <3

It was such a fun request and I believe (fingers crossed lmao) that Part 3 will wrap up your original prompt, but who knows?? I would love to take it further and see if Enid and Nyx could both find someone that actually feels like a good fit for them, especially if that's something you'd want to see as well.

And yes ofc!! Angst with favs is so fun. This fandom is just so crazy with hate that I always feel the need to preface that I don't choose sides. SJM's characters are so complex and they constantly make mistakes, a good person / character is bound to be a villain in someone else's story. I hope I wrote it well enough that Nyx's actions are not acceptable, but you can still feel bad for him and his position. It's just a bad situation for them both.

[sideb-alicenchanted]

Can I request Azriel × reader smut which covers the incident that let Rhysand and Cassian know he was kinky for the very first time, since he is secretive about his lovers otherwise?

Run, Rabbit

PrimalHunter!Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel chases you through the woods of Windhaven, his shadows tracking you as he follows with hunger. Your screams of pleasure cause a bit of an unplanned interruption, though.

Word Count: 2,107 

Content Warnings: Primal play, chasing, light choking, knife play (no blood drawn), use of the nickname "bunny" for reader

Author's Note: This request was so fun to write! Thank you to the anon who sent it in. I hope this was along the lines of what you were imagining!! I love thinking about them walking in and cass being like yooo can i watch and rhysand being like #shockedanddisturbed. I know it's canon that they would do things in the same room as each other but still. That's why we have headcanons. Ily anon ty for the ask.

Read on Ao3

The woods of Windhaven were darker than usual, as if the stars themselves were playing hide and seek. Onward, and faster. Breathe in, breathe out. 

In no universe would your legs ever be fast enough to outrun him, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. He was Carynthian, blood on the battlefield, and so corded with muscle that you were drooling just thinking about him.

Branches snapped, your own misstep. Shit. Azriel had given you a headstart, of course, but how much of a difference could that really make? 

He had every advantage: keen smell, eyes made for penetrating the darkness, and powerful legs that would track you to exhaustion. But deep down, that was exactly what you wanted.

A low growl rippled through the tree line, maybe thirty paces behind you. A shiver ran through your body, both from excitement and the chilly spring breeze soothing your hot skin. 

You were sweating now. It would only serve to make your scent that much stronger, you knew. Another grunt sounded from behind, so so close now. 

You broke left, hand bracing on the trunk of a gnarled pine as you used it to propel you forward. 

“Where have you run off to, little bunny?” Azriel mused, nowhere near out of breath yet. His words were coaxing, teasing you. If your scent hadn’t given you away yet, the sound of your harsh panting would.

Your legs began to ache as you pushed harder, determined to make it at least five more minutes. You were probably pathetic compared to other playmates of his, but you held some measure of pride knowing he was here with you instead of the Morrigan.

The sound of heavy boots on your tail slowed, fading out as you ran, pumping sore legs. You had lost him, for now, but it was dangerous to believe he wouldn’t be picking up on your tread soon. 

A thick fir tree blocked the sort-of-path you had mapped out with your eyes, and you stepped out of sight behind it. Lungs tight, you stretched your arms upward, arcing your chest forward to breathe deep.

“There you are~”

Instantly, a scarred hand was covering your mouth, muffling any noises of surprise. The scent of cedar and cool mist flooded your senses, lulling you into stillness as dark tendrils of shadow peeled from his hidden form. Of course he had been waiting in the darkness.

His shadows snaked up your body to coil around your wrists, taking advantage of the position you were in as they locked your arms into place above your head. His shadows were rigid and firm, but somehow softer than spider-silk. They were careful not to irritate your skin.

Azriel wouldn’t hurt you, at least not like this. But that was Truth-Teller strapped to his belt.

He had plans.

“Don’t scream,” he said, brushing soft lips against your ear. The hand holding your mouth pulled back tentatively, and when you didn’t yell, his mouth moved down to your neck. “Very good,” he purred, hazel eyes glinting in the starlight like a big cat’s. 

Azriel wasn’t one to overwhelm you with desperate, sloppy kisses. No, he would string you along with a tender graze to your pulse, or a little nip to your earlobe. 

You bit your lip, fighting down the sounds threatening to slip out. Azriel grinned, sensing them, and he kissed your throat again. You could feel his teeth as he smiled, slightly sharp at the canines, and achingly gentle as they scraped against your skin. He pulled back, though, not daring to leave a mark there. 

He would hide them across you later, you were sure. Only ever in secret spots, the curve of your breast, the soft plane of your rear. Any place you would see in the mirror later as you inevitably touched yourself to the memory.

More shadows drifted off of his body like smoke, tracing up your calves to your thighs, your hips, where they clung possessively. 

His shadows wriggled softly and Azriel chuckled, low and dry. “My shadows tell me you’re excited.”

Red tinted your cheeks, and his shadows tightened their grip. A tendril slid up the inside of your thigh and you instinctively shut your legs. It made no difference, though. Azriel’s shadows were incorporeal. It slid through the tight crease of your plush thighs to cup your clothed mound, petting you through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Making things difficult for us? Good bunnies don’t hide away like that…”

Azriel’s hands gripped your thighs, easily pushing them apart. More shadows embraced your body, drifting down to your ankles to hold your legs open wide. “Az…”

Ons hand gripped your thigh, and the other slid to his belt. You waited to see him free his already hard cock, but he went for the hilt of Truth-Teller instead. He slid it free from its sheath, flipping it in his hand before aiming straight for the seam of your pants.

“Az-”

“Hush,” he chided, slicing a clean cut down the fabric. “I’ll have it fixed,” he assured you, sensing your ire. And he better make good on that, these were your favorite pants. They made your butt look good.

The tip of Truth-Teller pierced your panties next, and you gasped. “If you squirm, you might get hurt,” Azriel murmured. His shadows tightened, holding you still. They were strangely protective, keeping you from even the smallest nick. 

Azriel’s blade ripped apart your panties, leaving you exposed to his gaze and the touch of his strange creatures. Moonlight shimmered over your slick folds and Azriel’s eyes glittered. “Mm,” he hummed. “They were right… you’re soaked for me, bunny.”

Your throat went tight. He traced the tip of Truth-Teller over the seam of your cunt, the point lightly gliding over your skin.

You were suddenly grateful for the strong grip of the shadows as your knees buckled. Azriel laughed, pulling the blade back. “I thought you might like that,” he said, lips finding their way back to the shell of your ear. “Naughty.”

He pressed close enough, now, for you to feel the tent in his pants. His cock strained against his zipper, tightly confined, and you marveled at the control he held over himself. 

The urge to free his dick, to feel it heavy and warm against your tongue, was strong, but his shadows kept you pinned to the tree. His cock was perfect… ribbed with veins and just thick enough to-

A finger slid through your folds and everything went blank in your mind. Azriel laughed dryly, gently circling your clit. 

“Come back to me, bunny,” he cooed. “Don’t tell me that one finger is enough to make you melt, I expected better.”

You mumbled something incoherent as his fingertip grazed along your entrance. “Ah-”

“I know, bunny, feels too good, huh?” Azriel slid his finger inside, but only to the first knuckle, and you whined pitifully at the feeling. “You’re pathetic,” he said, voice smug.

You already knew it, but the way he said it made sparks flicker in your belly. You had no doubt you were dripping onto his hand now.

He slid deeper, circling the spot that made you moan only once before pulling back out.

“Wha- why?” You stammered, needing so much more from him already.

“You think I brought you all the way out here just to finger you against a tree?” He asked, a cocky smirk pulling at his lips.

 You looked at him, lost to what was coming next. His shadows unfurled, letting you loose from their bindings against the tree. Azriel’s hands held you steady as you stumbled forward, wobbly now that your supports were gone. He turned you in his arms, then gave you a shove forward, pushing you out onto the forest path again.

“Run.”

You turned away from his wicked grin, begging your legs to cooperate as you ran again. Fuck. Would you get a headstart this time, or would he simply pull you to the ground in a few feet?

There was no time to think about it. You turned at ever tree, having just enough sense to know that you could get farther switching up your trail than just trying to be fast. 

A rumbling purr echoed beyond the trees but you could no longer tell where from. The way he moved within the nothing space of the shadows was untraceable. It was not like winnowing, not like flying, not like anything you could ever understand. 

“Faster,” he said. His command was so close you turned, hazarding a glance over your shoulder. He had sounded so close…

Behind you, you could see a flash of tan muscles. He had taken his shirt off to hunt you down, and he was sweaty and gleaming in the dark. Yeah, you were fucked.

Azriel was right behind you, boots crushing stick and stone into the dry forest loam as he chased with ruthless intensity. 

A force knocked against your shoe, and for a moment you cursed yourself. Of course you would be dumb enough to trip and fall. But the culprit was no tree root or branch- mischievous wriggling caught your eye as you went down, and his shadows cushioned the fall.

Azriel was atop you in an instant. You tried to roll onto your back to face him, but he shoved your hips back down and flat to the forest floor.

“Please,” was the only word that managed to escape as his big hand slid around to your neck. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to have you truly panicking.

Azriel cradled your head by the throat, keeping you from slumping face down into the dirt. His zipper whined, and you heard a delicious grunt as he likely grabbed his own cock. 

If only you could move- watch him stroke himself above you like a beast- but he held you firm. 

The wait was over pretty soon. Without bothering to pull your pants off, Azriel poised his blunt tip at your entrance, through the convenient hole there. He  pushed all the way to the hilt in one go, knowing you could take it.

“Ah!” You whined, eyes watering at the stretch. Soft coils of darkness cupped your cheeks, tenderly brushing back your tears as he began to thrust. It was ruthless, but oh so good. The head of his cock found your cervix after a few searching pumps, and your answering scream told him exactly where to hit. 

He slammed into the soft spot without mercy. He wanted to carry you back home that night, to see you limp and twitching in his arms and unable to walk. 

You screamed again as he slid particularly deep, your head lolling forward in ecstacy. He tightened his grip around your neck, squeezing until he heard you breath come out thin and soft. Bliss clouded your mind with each squeeze and he pounded you through the numbing pleasure, bringing you to the edge of climax in minutes. 

“Stop screaming, baby, you’ll lose your pretty voice,” he said between grunts, but his pace did not slow. 

You shattered with a shriek, muscles tightening to pull him in deep as every bone inside you turned to mush. 

“Fuck, that was h- Hey!” He yelled suddenly. Warm, leathery skin brushed against your back as a giant bat-like wing folded over your body protectively. He slid his cock free from your pussy, but stayed crouched over your form. 

Turning to the side, flashing metal caught your eye. A sword, an aimed, threatening sword. “What the fuck are you doing, Cassian?” He bit out.

Cassian- that was the High Lord’s general. Oh for Cauldron’s sake. 

“Wh- oh. Ohhhh.” Cassian’s voice came out off-kilter. “Turn around, Rhys, turn around!” 

The winged males jostled into each other as they both turned away from the scene. 

“She’s- ah- not hurt?” The High Lord of the Night Court asked awkwardly.

“No,” Azriel growled. 

“The good kind of choking, then.” Rhys stated matter-of-factly and Azriel groaned.

“Damn, Az, nice one-” the general tried to say, but he was cut off by the gentle whooshing of Rhysand’s winnow.

There were several beats of strange, tense silence, before you had to laugh. 

“Fuck me,” Azriel mumbled. He covered his reddening face with his hands when you turned, almost bashful now. What a sight.

“Did you still want to finish?” You said, trailing a hand over the now zipped up front of his pants.

He considered for a moment, dick twitching in interest. “I guess it doesn’t matter if I bring you back home with me now…”

“I’ll be more quiet this time,” you giggled.

[sideb-alicenchanted]

Lords of Choice, Part 2

Eris Vanserra’s Daughter X Nyx Archeron

Summary: Nyx Archeron takes a turn for the worse as Enid Vanserra refuses to cooperate. After a confrontation goes awry along the bond, Nyx takes matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 3,552

Pairings: (Broken bond) Nyx Archeron X Vanserra!OC, Feyre x Rhysand, Nesta x Cassian, Elain x Azriel

Warnings: (Spoilers!!!!!) kidnapping, Nyx kinda goes manic but is it really his fault?

Author's Note: Ahhhh this was so painful to write I'm not gonna lie. My computer just broke so I had to cut part 2 a little short, but dw its still a good size. Disclaimer, but I don't hate the IC or believe Nyx is a villain, he's just Enid's villain. in a way, she's his villain too. Hope you guys like this chapter!! 

Enid Vanserra is an original character. She and Nyx are both adults in this fic.

Read on Ao3 / Part 1

Sharp talons bit into the oak of the manor’s front entrance. Eris was surprised he had waited until midday, but the High Lord of the Night Court was not shameful about the long hours he needed to spend sating his mate before any business could occur.

It did not matter when it happened, though. Eris knew what scale of tantrum this visit would bring. He had been raised with males who felt owed. The world, women, power, land; they felt it was all owed to them simply from their noble birth. Rhysand was no different than any of the Vanserras.

Eris adjusted the murky green silk of his blouse, still open to the afternoon sun. Despite it being winter, it was quite sunny in the Autumn Court as nature bowed to magic.

After straightening his shirt, checking his shoes, then deciding he should actually probably button the shirt, Eris smoothed back his disheveled red hair and approached the door. Weekends were reserved for leisure and tea with his daughter, one of the only times he was ill prepared for court business, but his appearance would have to do. “What do you want?”

“No need for rudeness, Eris,” Rhysand crooned. The boy wasn’t with him, mercifully. “Can’t we settle this as men, as two loving fathers?”

The sarcasm in Rhysand’s voice disgusted Eris, but he kept his face still, apathetic. He knew what the Night Court thought of him. He was a worthless man, and a far more worthless father. It was Eris’s own fault they felt that way. But it was better, safer for her. And Enid knew he loved her, didn’t she? “Whatever business your son has with Enid is no business of mine.”

“I would think you’d be eager to hand her off, Eris. She’d be more welcome in my own court than yours.” Rhysand picked at a piece of invisible lint on his shoulder. Always casual, always bored. The more desperate he was for something, the more he tried to hide it. The Archeron brat must be pretty upset.

“As much as I would love to see her out of my court,” Eris said tightly, “I have use for her still.”

Rhysand took a breath, almost as if he were angry at Eris’s callous words, and then he smiled. There was no glitter to his stare. “If you’re looking to bargain her off, you’ll find no better deal than with the Night Court.”

Eris did his best to keep the look of surprise from his face. Oh this was delicious. “A bargain? I’m listening.”

“Armies, healers, spies…what do you want, Eris?”

“That’s awfully generous of you, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s fists tightened, and he clasped them behind his back, fixing his posture. “I’m in a good mood today.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Eris’s eyes narrowed, and Rhysand stared him back down. They stood there, a horribly tense silence suddenly stretching between them.

“Won’t you invite me in?” Rhysand said, finally.

“So you can offer my daughter shoes and dresses and parties until she runs away?” Eris allowed the words to drip with disdain. It was better they believe Enid to be stupid than a real heir to power, than a female worthy of his kingdom.

“Shoes and dresses and parties would be far easier to procure than allies. You should be glad I’m doing things the right way.”

Eris stiffened. He didn’t like the sound of that. It was a thinly veiled threat, he was sure of it. “And what would you do otherwise? Have The Morrigan steal Enid from my court like she did your mate?”

Rhysand’s teeth snapped shut tightly, his arms flexing as if aching to start a fight. “Watch yourself, Eris. You need us.”

“I need Keir, and last I checked, his relationship to the Autumn Court is far better than your own,” Eris said calmly. Rising to anger would be risky. The fire in his veins begged for rage.

“Keir still falls under my jurisdiction.”

“Then I will re-evaluate if times of war befall us.”

Eris could see the red of exasperation boiling up beneath Rhysand’s tan skin and knew that this was not what the Inner Circle had envisioned.

Tentative footsteps had his pointed ears perking, and Eris turned to see Enid poking her head into the foyer. She was so young. Her second century of life and he could still only see her the way she was as a baby, lighting the curtains on fire and giggling at the ashy snow.

“Lady Vanserra,” Rhysand purred, all hints of anger tucked carefully beneath his mask. “We were just talking about you.”

Enid turned stiff at the High Lord’s direct address, but she did not avoid his gaze. Good. Pride filled Eris’s chest even as he ironed his will. “You are not needed, Enid, run along,” Eris said.

Rhysand stood up straight. “Our children are adults now, Eris. You cannot keep her locked up forever.”

“You had no problem doing so to Nesta until you believed she could be used to sweet talk me.”

But Rhysand did not bristle this time. In fact, he seemed more confident than ever. The High Lord turned to Eris’s daughter, completely ignoring Eris’s sharp glare.

“Enid, we have not seen you since the Solstice. Perhaps you are in need of some… space from the Autumn Court. Velaris is beautiful in the winter.”

Enid held her hands in front of her, smoothing down the casual linens she wore. In white, she must’ve looked like the perfect bride to Rhysand. “I appreciate your generosity, High Lord, but I am quite busy with my studies,” Enid said, ever so polite. It seemed she was trying to make up for the slight of her actions at the Winter Solstice.

“You like to study, then?” Rhysand said. “The Night Court has one of the biggest libraries in Prythian, next only to the Day Court. And Helion and I are good friends, too,” he added with a wink.

Enid pursed her lips, gaze flickering to the ceiling in ever-so-thoughtful consideration. “Perhaps another time.” She bowed her head to the High Lord, then retreated back to the sun room where Eris’s tea was no doubt going cold.

“There you have it,” Eris said, hardly bothering to seem polite. “Farewell, Rhysand.”

The Lord of Night opened his mouth, as if he would drag this out as long as he could, but he closed it. Thank god.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Eris.”

~~~

“What did she say?”

He hated the desperation leaking into his voice. He hated the frown on his mother’s face. He hated the ache slowly, slowly choking him from the inside. All night she had refused to answer his call, and it was as if her lovely fire was stealing all the oxygen from his lungs.

Nyx’s father looked grim. “She said she is ‘too absorbed in her studies.’” Rhys scoffed. “As if the Autumn Court could provide her with an education better than ours. Feyre, I taught you how to read well, right?”

Never before had Nyx seen his father so torn, seeking reassurance so blatantly. A Lord of choice, he had always aimed to be, but Enid was not choosing correctly.

Enid… a Vanserra girl. Nyx supposed the Cauldron was right to give him a mate as strong-willed as himself. The image of her in the bond, a sultry flame, was burned into his heart. His soul, even.

“Did she say anything else?” Nyx asked tentatively.

“No,” Rhys said, sitting beside his son. Nyx’s wings drooped against the navy couch, but his father did not chide him.

“She’ll come around,” Cassian said cheerfully, a strong arm slipping around Nesta’s waist. “Look how long I waited.”

His Aunt bristled, and the Illyrian laughed, holding her tighter. They were so happy.

Feyre’s eyes followed her son’s to the embrace, frowning at Cassian. “It… it takes time, Nyx,” his mother said softly, a warm hand on his shoulder. She was careful not to smear any Phthalo blue onto his sweater as she patted him. Nyx had dressed well today, nice pants, nice shirt, just in case Rhysand returned with his mate in tow.

Deep inside him, Nyx felt for that shimmering cord. The Mating Bond. It was there, sparkling, but so limp. It had been stretched to its limits, his mate’s soul wandering as far as it could from him. Everything felt tight and sick as Nyx tugged on the bond. No answer. “How do I bear it?”

“You could ask Lucien,” Aunt Elain said softly, giving him an encouraging smile. “I… I know I certainly did not make it easy for him. He might have some ideas.”

Nyx stayed silent, brushing her off. He felt momentary guilt when Elain’s face dropped, but he could not help it. He did not like that answer. He did not want to be told there was something he could do to feel better when he did not believe things could be better.

“Keep reaching out your hand, Nyx,” Cassian said, far more gentle than expected.

“Do you think she’s just… misinformed?” Feyre turned to Rhys, who rubbed his temples slowly. “Your time with…” She stopped, rephrasing. “The stain on the Night Court’s reputation from years of hiding, maybe she doesn’t know any better…”

“I’m not sure,” Rhys said. The lines of worry in his face deepened. He was haunted. Haunted by the thought that his own maneuverings might have ruined his son’s chance at love and fulfillment. Nyx knew his father well enough to see that this would eat him alive.

“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly.

Rhysand met Nyx’s gaze before he looked away, eyes moving toward the frost coated window. His wings, dark and leathery, unfurled as he made his way to the River House’s landing. “I’ll be back… I need to clear my head.”

Feyre’s brow furrowed, but she said nothing. She leaned her head against Nyx’s shoulder, attempting to offer him some small comfort.

A sudden, sharp sting pulled through him, and he jolted.

“Nyx?”

But he was gone, far gone and into the darkness that lined a path between his soul and hers.

Enid?

A flicker, then two beady black eyes surfacing from the fire. Were you the reason for the High Lord’s visit?

No, I swear-

Her incandescent form rippled and swirled, flame licking at her figure. She was so beautiful, and so angry. Heat sparked in his gut, and he willed himself to cool off.

His inky form stepped closer to her, but Enid’s hand shot out. A thin barrier of flame ignited at his feet in warning. It did not burn.

Enid’s eyes narrowed as Nyx traced his finger along the coils of light, tracing them ever so delicately. Nothing. Only a pleasurable heat that made his heart race. And if her magic wasn’t hurting him…

You’ve accepted? Hope tainted his voice.

Gods, no.

Again, the poshness in her voice dropped. She must have felt safe enough to be herself with him. Of course she did, her flame would not bring him harm.

Come to Velaris, he would try again. Reach out his hand, like Uncle Cassian said. I know you’d be so happy here.

You know nothing about me, she bit out.

Nyx stepped through the wall of fire, closing the gap between them slowly. Enid drew back, like a startled animal, but Nyx had always been good with soft creatures. Gods, what Eris must put her through…

You’ve missed Starfall, but the Artist’s Quarter does a show this time each year-

Stop it, she growled. Fire sparked, but this time the wall was backed with brambles. Thick limbs of oak barred his approach, braiding into a solid shield. Nyx could sweep it away with a finger, a single claw of the spectral beast his form had taken, but no. He must be going too far across the bond. These shields were mental, and his parents had taught him to never use his gifts unless necessary.

Please Enid. Nyx let his desire show, his longing. Girls liked men who yearn. We can take it slow.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her shield of brambles shrinking back until Nyx could see through to her lovely face. Even obscured by flame, he knew her beauty.

I know this is new for you, he whispered. Her shoulders dropped from their defensive curl. Good. I know that Eris keeps you locked away in the manor.

But Enid’s face changed, instantly twisting back into intense, surprising rage.

You don’t know anything, she yelled.

The twisting light of her soul’s shape shrank smaller and smaller and into shadow, disappearing from her end of the bond.

For a moment, Nyx felt nothing. And then he broke.

~~~

The dark was soundless, so thin and quiet that even the manor’s creaks were dampened by the shadow. Enid sat up in her bed. Moonlight drifted in from the window, but it did not allow her to see. Beside her bed, she grabbed for her lamp and brushed her fingers against the oily wick. It wouldn’t catch.

Again she touched it, summoning her fire. Her palms glowed with dim light, but no flame lit. Something was very wrong.

Eyes so blue they were almost violet winked open in the corner of her room. She knew those eyes. She knew the feeling of thread that unwound from within her gut, now taut and glittering with his presence.

“Get out of my room,” this wouldn’t go well if she rose to anger, but Enid could already feel her fire building, flickering down her arms and gilding the tips of her long red hair where it pooled on her bedsheets.

Nyx did not respond from where he stood, still lurking in the dark corner of her room. The shadow of his wings fluttered, tucking themselves back. He should not have been able to get through the wards without being a permitted guest. But Nyx, Nyx was a product of the Cauldron.

Enid took a breath, willing away the embers in her eyes. “I understand you’re upset…” she said, her voice deceptively calm. Enid had not yet recovered from the insult to her father earlier, but perhaps that wasn’t fair. Nyx would never know just how much Eris did for her, and he could never know. No one could.

She stood from her bed, nightgown billowing out to her feet in a precariously thin whisper. She had to tell him what he wanted to hear, even if only to buy herself more time. “I’ve been unfair to you, I know. That’s my fault.” His wings rustled again, and she stepped closer. “May I light my lamp? We can sit and talk.”

The shadows in the room did not lighten, their presence suffocatingly heavy. He was smothering her, depriving her heat. “Nyx, stop it.”

He stepped out of the shadows, body stiff, face still. There was anguish in his eyes, which had darkened into sleep-deprived circles. She willed her spine straight, and did not back away from him. Earlier she had been afraid of his approach into her mind, and it had been a mistake to show her emotions so freely.

So quickly her eyes could not follow, he touched her wrist. One point of contact was all he needed. Her form collapsed with his, falling into space as he winnowed her to the Night Court.

~~~

The room she was in was not one she recognized. A chair soaked in dark liquid sat upon a grated floor. Beneath the iron mesh she heard slithering. Large black bodies coated in scales flashed from where they writhed.

The wiry floor bit into her bare feet, and she summoned her flame. It would not hurt Nyx, not while her body recognized him as her mate, but she could melt through the pit, singe those snake-like creatures.

“Don’t,” Nyx threatened. “They won’t hurt you,” he said. And after, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Where did you bring me?”

“The Prison.”

Her eyes widened, darting around the room now. Exits, she needed to find the exits. She wondered, for a moment, why Nyx bothered telling her where she was, but the answer was clear. No one would heed her call from within this mountain, not her father, not the pitiful High Lord and Lady, not their creatures.

“Nyx this isn’t the way-”

“Then what is?” he said through gritted teeth, running a hand through his shaggy black hair. “You don’t understand, Enid.”

“I know… I know I don’t,” she said, leashing her voice tight. She would not let it sound anything but firm.

“You don’t,” he affirmed, pressing his hand to his abdomen, his long wings spreading wide in irritation. “It hurts so bad.”

His voice broke on the last word and she felt an echo of pain ripple out from her soul, deep within her being. Enid knew that the mating bond was a painful magic for males, but not to this degree. She put her hands out, coaxing and gentle. “I’m sorry- I- we can fix this.”

His blue eyes met hers, so wide and sad. “Can we?

“Yes,” she moved closer. His clenched fists opened, his arms falling open and vulnerable to her approach. He was at least a head taller than her, a bit lanky, but she did not doubt that he was corded with muscle beneath his deceptively simple outfit. He would have training the likes of which she could never comprehend, a skill more deadly than her own simple sword work.

She stopped in front of him, inches from his warm body, and he swayed toward her. “Enid,” his voice was a whisper, and traitorously, she shuddered. “Don’t fight it anymore, please. My family will take care of you, no matter how long you need.”

Ever so carefully, she pressed her cheek to his chest. The scent of him was so comforting, like the wide, open sea and trembling blooms of lilac. Enid’s mind went fuzzy with each breath and she realized her shields were down.

Somehow, without her even realizing it, the wall of thorny branches and wood that she kept within her mind had opened, retreating. Enid clenched her teeth, forcing them to grow back into place.

Nyx’s hand lifted, and he tentatively placed it against her hair, cradling her head against him. He could sense the battle within her mind, pushing against his influence.

Guilt gnawed at Enid with ferocity. He was so careful, and she knew it was not in his nature to hold her captive. It was the stupid mating bond, a madness of lovers. So unfair for Enid to deny him, to cause him pain. But her desire for freedom would always be stronger than her guilt.

Enid’s arms came up to wind around Nyx’s middle. Yes, he was wearing a belt.

She felt Nyx lean down, press his nose to the halo of her hair to scent her. It was something so uncomfortable to her, but also so natural. Every instinct within her body accepted what her mind would not.

Enid allowed herself to imagine, briefly, that things could be different. That she could love him, be loved by him, and enjoy an embrace like this. She imagined her throne, black and elegant, the same size as Nyx’s own. But the land's magic would not be hers. And someday, when her father passed, the Vanserra line would be replaced by another without her. It could be one just as cruel as Beron, or maybe a Lord kinder than even Enid’s father. She wouldn’t take the chance.

Nyx brushed his lips against Enid’s ear sweetly. “I love you,” he whispered. And she knew that he truly thought he did.

Enid’s hand closed around the cool metal surface of a key ring, and she ran. Nyx’s shocked growl echoed through the cavernous space, and she realized just how big the room truly was. And how dark.

Not once slowing her pace, Enid summoned fire to her hand, holding the swirling ball of heat ahead of her. Shadows pressed in tight, until her light was no greater than a candle. The light would help him more than it would herself. Snuffing it out, Enid felt blindly, instead, for the walls. Nyx would have vision made for the dark, but she imagined this cavern was designed to disorient even his own kind. She hoped that the playing field had been evened out even a little.

“I smell you Enid, you can’t hide anywhere I won’t be able to follow.” He said it simply, no menace in his tone, but to her the statement rang as a threat.

Enid pressed her fingers into the curve of the wall, jamming her neatly trimmed nails into every cut and crevice. Nyx’s pace was slow, trying not to scare her as he herded her to a point of no return.

“I’m sorry.”

She tuned him out. Her nail caught on a seam in the rock, and she felt for a hole, a spot where a key could fit. But there were so many keys…

“I’m sorry,” Nyx repeated once more, quiet- and sad. A wispy hand grabbed for her.

No, not her body. Her mind.

Like butter, the shielded thicket in her head was severed. Enid went rigid and dropped to the ground.

Part 3

Tag list: @aleksandra25cracow , @illyriansforautumnheirs

[sideb-alicenchanted]

Firstly, I loved your fic and I am in love with Enid and how her brain works. I loved your Nyx too, him being spoiled was such a fresh take. He must have formed some idea of her in his head in these past few days because while she's actively rejecting it, he wants it to come to fruition so what is that like?

Ahh thank you smmm Anon!! <3<3

I talk about it a little bit in this post on dating history for Nyx and Enid, but I love to talk so I will also add more here.

Nyx is surrounded by fated mates constantly. He knows his grandparents on Rhys's side were mates that stayed together despite being incompatible (and also raised all three Illyrian boys well, who are all his biggest influences). Nyx also knows Feyre fell out of love with Tamlin once she met her mate and she is very in love with Rhys. He has his Aunt Nesta who was able to heal and grow through her relationship with her mate. (I love Elucien, but in this specific fic I decided to go with Elriel for shhhh reasons) He also knows that the Cauldron sort of 'messed up' and was meant to give Azriel to Elain, but they found each other anyways. Elain is still friends with Lucien, has a good relationship with her mate, and Lucien is a relative of Nyx's mate.

Basically, I think Nyx would grow up believing relationships outside of the mating bond are only temporary pleasures, that they have inherently less value than a mating bond. I don't think Feyre and Rhys would ever pressure him to not be with someone 'average', but I also think that Nyx would feel the need to impress them.

Finding his mate so young is like a dream come true, a sign that he is on the right path. This makes Enid's rejection even worse because there's isn't any 'reason' for it. She doesn't have any trauma or tragic backstory. There isn't anything he can change about himself, his family, his court's history, or Enid's upbringing with an independent, single father. She simply isn't interested in him. It would gnaw at him.

[sideb-alicenchanted]

Hello and welcome to my Fanfic Masterlist! I currently write for these fandoms:

ACOTAR / Throne of Glass / Crescent City / Stardew Valley

This page will be updated frequently as I expand. All of the below fics can be found here on Tumblr, as well as on Ao3 at Alicenchanted! Fics will be individually tagged 'smut' when they contain explicit material. If you would like to be added to a tag list for any fics, message/comment and I'll add you to it. Liking/reblogging/giving kudos is always appreciated!

If you have any questions, requests, tips, or you just want to say hi, my inbox is always open! <3

(Disclaimer: I do not hate any of the characters in ACOTAR. I love Feyre and the Inner Circle, I also love Nesta and Tamlin. I believe every character has their flaws and I am equally critical of all SJM's works. I try to write every character as they are portrayed, to the best of my ability. I do not enjoy shipping discourse, and you'll see equal love from me to Elriel, Elucien, Tamlain, Gwnyriel, Nessian, Neris, Brycriel, etc. depending on what I am in the mood to write! Crackships too. All ships and beliefs are welcome here, and in requests! <3)

Series

A Court of Silver Storms

Status: On Going Pairings Unconfirmed The Cauldron's offerings to the Archeron sisters on the day they were Made have been resurfacing since its destruction in the war. Taryn Archeron and her twin sister Nesta have been sent to the House of Wind for structure, training, and maybe even healing, but only if they can fix their broken relationships. Taryn finds herself falling for Rhysand's Shadowsingers, Azriel and Tristan, but the path to romance is more complex than she thought. Ao3 / Chapter 1

Lords of Choice

Status: Completed Nyx Archeron X Eris Vanserra's Daughter Eris Vanserra's daughter, Enid, attends the Winter Solstice revel in the Hewn City to show respect to the Night Court. After finding out her mate is Nyx Archeron, she finds her respect slowly running dry. Enid's attempts to reject the mating bond spark concerns amongst the Courts, and their leaders most of all. (This fic is Broken Mating Bond!) Ao3 / Part 1

One-Shots

Run, Rabbit

Category: Smut Primal Hunter! Azriel X Fem!Reader Azriel chases you through the woods of Windhaven, his shadows tracking you as he follows with hunger. Your screams of pleasure cause a bit of an unplanned interruption, though. Ao3 / Tumblr

Note: I have definite bias toward Elliott, but I love all of the Bachelors and Bachelorettes, and I will write for any of them. I am also a modding player, so romancables from RSV or SVE are fair game too!

Series

Lady of the Valley

Status: On Going Regency AU! Elliott X Farmer's Daughter! FMC Annette Fallow, a poor farmer’s daughter, disguises herself as a noble to attend a debutante gala. Her aim? To secure a deal with Lord Elliott Granger, the arrogant owner of Granger Printing Press. Elliott sees through her noble ruse quickly as she stumbles through her introduction- but he offers to sponsor her writing. However, she must fulfill her end of the bargain. Nettie is roped into etiquette lessons, a fake identity, and a highly improper personal arrangement. Is this relationship with an egotistical Lord worth it to make her way in the world? Ao3 / Chapter 1

One-Shots

Wallflower

Category: Smut Punk! Sam X Fem! Reader Sam sneaks you into his room after his concert and explains why he's been keeping his distance from you. He makes up for your troubles with a little up against the wall action. Ao3 / Tumblr

Night Swim

Category: Smut Elliott X Fem! Reader Elliott attempts to cheer the reader up with a night-time swim. It ends up steamier than expected. Ao3 / Tumblr

Lessons in the Margins

Category: Smut Daddy Dom! Elliott X Fem! Reader Elliott finds the reader snooping through his drafts of Camellia Station, spoiling the fact that you are his muse. This calls for a light, loving punishment. Ao3 / Tumblr

Let Me Have You

Category: Smut Soft Dom! Elliott X Fem! Reader You wake up after a night spent in Elliott's cabin, feeling like you should flee. Elliott reassures your relationship, followed by a sweet surprise. Ao3 / Tumblr

[sideb-alicenchanted]

P.S. I love the way you also incorporated the other Stardew Valley characters cuz I love those other characters too ;-; sooo well-written tbh like the way you wrote [spoiler alertt SPOILER ALERT] Harvey/Maru/Penny/Abigail/etc. were just... chef's kiss. ❤️

keep it up queen, you make such great works, whether SDV-related or not TwT I'm always so proud of you and happy for you ❤️

-xoxo 5am anon 💙❤️

Thank you!! I genuinely love every single stardew character so I want to do some exploring with their characters in this setting, especially some competition for the eligible bachelors 😏

Haley and emily will hopefully be making a big appearance

[sideb-alicenchanted]

it was giving 2005 Pride and Prejudice (specifically that because it was the only version I ever watched sorry XD) and also Bridgerton (haven't actually watched this one but I am familiar with it xD) but like OOHH LA LA LIKE MORE SCANDALOUS MWEHEHEHEHESJSHSJS I LOVE IT

it's okay queen even if there's no smut part yet, gurl just do your thanggg, do your own magic, I support you anyway always :3 ❤️💙 I like seeing what you come up with voluntarily TwT especially because I have crippling anxiety so I wanna make sure I don't make other people suffer... but anyway-

that was great great 11/11 (get it? because it's greater than 10/10 xD) I LOVE IT. perhaps I may gush more about it next time but for now I don't think even words are enough to describe just how WAAAAA PERFECT IT IS

(gossip girl series narrator voice)

xoxo, 5am anon

❤️

Heavy heavy inspired by Bridgerton and Pride and Prejudice. I love a good period drama like the vibes are just peak.

If you have the time, absolutely give Bridgerton a watch it’s so gooddddd.

Also chronic anxiety girlies unite!! Love feeling hunted for sport at all hours of the day

[sideb-alicenchanted]

CRYING BECAUSE BLUE IS MY FAVORITE COLOR AND I SEE LOTS OF BLUE SO FAR 😭😭😳💙

- xoxo 5am anon ❤️💙

I firmly believe that every character needs a color to fit their vibe and for some reason light blue coquette was calling me 🤷‍♀️

[sideb-alicenchanted]

5am anon here just wanted to say THE TUMBLR NOTIFICATION FINALLY WORKED HECK YEAH!!!

now it's time to GOON- I mean to read uwu o//w//o

❤️❤️

Ahhh I’m so glad your notifs are working now!!

I’m so sorry to say there’s no smut in this part yet though 😢

Very soon I promise!! I needed some introduction but they will be doing it 😎

[sideb-alicenchanted]

Lady of the Valley

Regency!Elliott x Farmer's Daughter!FMC

Summary: Annette Fallow, a poor farmer’s daughter, disguises herself as the noble Antoinette Duvalle in order to attend a debutante gala. Her aim? To secure a deal with Lord Elliott Granger, the arrogant owner of the Granger Printing Press. Elliott sees through her noble ruse quickly as she stumbles through her introduction- but he offers to sponsor her writing. However, she must fulfill her end of the bargain. Nettie is roped into etiquette lessons, a fake identity, and a highly improper personal arrangement. Is this relationship with an egotistical Lord worth it to make her way in the world?

Word Count: 2,476

AN: New fic alert! Regency SDV came to me in a fever dream. This chapter is very tame, but the series will eventually include smut.

Read on Ao3

“Lord Granger, allow me to introduce my daughter Abigail.”

Elliott smiled, taking the pale lilac hand of the little wench in front of him. He brushed a kiss to the knuckles of her silk gloves, giving her- and her mother- his most charming smile. “Miss Marchand, lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“I can play the flute, as well as read and write cursive to an excellent degree,” the girl said begrudgingly. 

“That’s lovely,” Elliott bowed his head a bit in acknowledgement. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Lady Caroline Marchand had money, but her daughter was known to be a wildcard. Rebelliousness wasn’t something Elliott disliked, but Abigail’s flavor of attitude was often impolite- even rude. 

“But- Lord Granger.”

Elliott slid into the crowd as quickly as possible. Not a full disappearance act, but it was enough to buy him some time. He wouldn’t have bothered to show at all on a chilly autumn day like this, but it was the start of the debutante season. Elliott knew he should be in attendance for the girls’ first presentations. 

For a man in High Society, time never ran out. Elliott Granger could marry as he wished, when he wished. Thus, he had all the leisure in the world when it came to finding a wife. Perhaps perversely, though, it gave Elliott no small measure of satisfaction to be doted on by the women of the valley. Elliott was not a product of old money, like many of his acquaintances. He had earned his title, his land, and his sprawling estate, all through sheer grit as an apprentice. Inheriting the town’s printing press was no feat of luck. To some degree, Elliott deserved their attention. 

That very attention, though, made him more and more disenchanted at every gala. He was beautiful, and personable, he had had lovers before his wealth for that reason. But, the established women of the town were a different breed. Only status seemed to matter.

“Elliott.”

He stiffened at the sound of his name coming from a masculine voice. Had he angered the girl’s father..? Elliott turned toward the open window to see a man in a thick velvet coat, the deep emerald of the Porter family crest. 

“Doctor Harvey,” Elliott said, shaking the man’s hand.

The grin on Harvey’s face was jovial. He was the town doctor, nearly nobility himself with the wealth he had garnered, and he had been one of Elliott’s first friends in the town. Despite his rather nervous disposition, Harvey was a kind man deserving of his attendance to this event.

“This will be the year for us, my friend.,” Harvey said, lifting a glass of bubbly gold liquid to his lips. The sentiment struck Elliott as a bit naive, too hopeful, so he ignored the statement and surveyed the ballroom with sharp eyes. Harvey did the same, another flute of champagne finding its way to him after finishing the first.  

“I fear for your liver on a night like this, Porter.”

Harvey laughed, pushing a glass from a nearby curtained table into Elliott’s rough hand. “Everything in moderation. Liquor may not be good for the body, but it soothes the soul.”

“I don’t know how you keep your license…”

Harvey laughed again, and Elliott smiled despite himself. Comfortable silence fell between them as they enjoyed the window’s cool breeze. It was quickly turning warm in the ballroom as dancing began, and autumn’s chilly gusts were suddenly welcome. 

“Do you have your eye on any of this year’s gems?” Harvey asked after a moment. 

Again, Elliott’s gaze drew across the crowd. Miss Abigail Marchand was to be avoided, but she seemed to be occupied with a few of the town’s younger lads. There was Penny Fairchilde, who frequented the Granger Printing Press, but she was a quiet girl. She wasn’t exactly his type of woman. But… “You and Miss Fairchilde could make an excellent match, Doctor.”

Harvey hummed at the thought. “Penny? She’s a sweetheart, but have you seen the girl she attends the salon with? Now that is a bright mind.”

Elliott nodded. Maru was in fact very bright. The Whittler family was one of old wealth, and they were at the forefront of innovation in carpentry. There would certainly be competition for the daughter’s hand. “You should ask her to dance before her card is full.”

Harvey shook his head, fussing with his cravat. He seemed redder than before. “No, I couldn’t. Miss Whittler could do far better than being tied to this town. She could travel, perhaps even study for herself.”

“As if her father would allow her,” Elliott said with a scoff. “That proverbial leash is tight.”

 Elliott turned to see another drink in Harvey’s hand as the Doctor yet again fussed with his neck piece. Elliott snatched up the glass with loving frustration. “Get a grip, sir.” 

He gave Harvey a light shove on the back and watched the Doctor stumble out into the crowd, spectacles drifting down his nose until he could fix them again. Harvey found his way to Maru instantly, having watched her all night, and soon the two were dancing. It seemed he had skipped the line of suitors. Good.

Elliott nodded to himself, downing his drink. And the remnants of Harvey’s. And perhaps he should steal a few hors d'oeuvres before leaving… 

He slid a handful of biscuits into the pocket of his tailored red coat and made his way to the marble archway of the ballroom. He would go perfectly unnoticed, everything according to plan-

“Excuse me, Sir, could we dance?”

Elliott bristled, turning to see one of the debutantes. She was tanned by the sun, uncommon for someone with status. Hmm. The girl curtseyed low, fixing a lock of mousy blonde hair as she righted herself. It was a terrible curtsey, off kilter. “Lord,” he corrected stiffly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Lord,” he repeated. “I am not a Sir, my title is Lord. Shouldn’t you know that?” He looked around to see where her mother was. He did not recognize the girl, so she couldn’t be local high nobility, then. “What is your family name?”

The girl paused, carefully fixing the skirt of her gown. A gown, Elliott noticed, that was made of a drabber linen than was appropriate for a debutante. A cornflower blue over the typical powder. “Duvalle, Antoinette Duvalle.”

~~~

“I’m not familiar with the name,” Lord Granger said.

Annette Fallow should not have been allowed inside. Whoever the Archduchess Marnie had employed to count guests at the door, they were not well versed in signs of forgery. Antionette Duvalle was a name as fake as the glass gems on Nettie’s necklace. 

Nettie smiled her brightest smile. She had only one chance at this. There was no time to second guess it. “It’s French.”

“How lovely,” Lord Granger said dryly. “I, too, take inspiration from the French in my work.”

Her smile tightened. He wasn’t buying her act for a minute. Shit. “I’m not sure I follow…”

The Lord’s eyebrows rose a level higher, nearly reaching his fine red hair. “You don’t? My apologies. The Lady Caroline Marchand speaks excellent French, perhaps we could go speak with her-”

Nettie’s smile rippled, and she forced it back into place. “After a dance? The music is just so lively, I wouldn’t dare miss it.”

“Something tells me you would dare to do a lot of things.”

Gods, he was charming, wasn’t he? Even when he was pulling apart her plans like a ripped seam, he was charming. 

Nettie had seen him ride past her family’s fields on his mare. That’s when he caught her eye the first time, carrying his satchel of pamphlets. Maybe it was a bit… strange to follow after him, but when she found out Lord Elliott Granger would be in attendance at the Harvest Gala, she had to attend.

“A dance,” Nettie said, hoping she seemed charming, rather than annoying. “You could allow me just one, couldn’t you?”

Lord Granger considered for a moment, but held out a hand. It was warm, and surprisingly rough. That wasn’t common amongst nobles. He must do at least some of his own work, then. 

The ballroom glistened. Autumnal vines bracketed the columns and curled amongst silver plates of food and wine. It was like nothing she had ever seen. Elliott led her towards the marble floor. As he stood straight, falling into formation, Nettie realized this was a grave mistake. 

The debutantes, the lords and ladies, their sons, everyone here was taught formal dancing. Nettie had rhythm, sure. The village folk sang and danced around a bonfire nearly every week. But that kind of dancing was different. It came from the soul, where as this kind came from a book. A book she hadn’t read.

Lord Granger’s lips curved slightly at the edges, his eyes sparkling as if he knew. “Miss Duvalle, surely you’ve not lost your dancing spark already?”

“Not at all,” she said, following the other women’s footsteps. Three paces right, then turn, then some kind of orbiting motion? 

“Good,” a grin lit his face and Nettie swallowed hard.

One, two, three, now turn. Now pace. A smile. Bat your lashes. 

Lord Granger seemed impressed with her, but it wasn’t too hard yet. This type of dancing was slow, formulaic. It was meant to allow the dancing couples a chance to speak. All the better.

“Granger Printing Press, is it your namesake?” Nettie’s words nearly threatened to trip her up. The nobles used an elevated vocabulary, one that she had spent her whole adolescence trying to learn so that she could be successful. To get off her farm and out of the village. That part was not so hard, now, but the accent… that was where she struggled. 

“It is,” he nodded. 

He had not yet settled into the dance, as if he were waiting for her to mess up. He knew it would happen eventually. 

“Do you read frequently, Miss Duvalle?” Lord Granger seemed insistent on addressing her by name, making sure it dripped with sarcasm and disbelief with each annunciation.

He was less charming than she thought.

She straightened her shoulders. That would be important to remember. “I do. Reading is one of my sincerest joys.”

“Perhaps I shall have to print in French,” he smirked. 

For a moment, the facade of polite, natural elegance slipped, and Nettie’s eyebrows narrowed. 

As quickly as she could, she plastered the genteel smile she had worn all night back in place. But it was no use. Wicked delight gleamed in the Lord’s eyes. He lowered his voice, moving as close to her as he could without risking a misstep in the dance. “Why don’t you tell me who you really are? We both know you aren’t meant to be here.”

“Annette,” she said quietly. The attendees of the ball were absorbed in their own conversations, but she knew that the older ladies often hung to the side to eavesdrop.  

“Annette what?” Lord Granger said, far too loudly for her liking. 

“Fallow.”

“Annette Fallow?” He repeated and Nettie grit her teeth at the projected sound. She slid her foot out from under her dress, stepping on his toes. If only she were wearing the stiffer flats of the debutantes, it would have hurt more.

He sucked in a breath, but it did not deter the grin on his face. “Fallow, you’re the farmer’s girl, aren’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed, giving up on the pretense of sophistication. She tried to sound proud of her background. It was hard. “I am.”

“The peasantry have their own fields to graze in.”

Nettie shut her eyes a moment and took a breath. “I am here to make a request of you.”

His eyes glittered. “Well, go on then.”

“How much would it cost me to employ your printing services…”

He stopped. So quickly that the couple following their turn-about fumbled as well. Lord Granger coughed, draping a hand on her lower back as he led her finally out of the throng of dancing nobles. “You wish to print something. You are aware this is for large scale production and not little childrens’ poems, yes?”

She bristled at the condescension in his tone, but bit her tongue. She needed to stop talking back, he was interested. “Yes.”

“What do you wish to print?”

Nettie cleared her throat. She had prepared this pitch for hours, practicing on the rabbits in her hutch. “I have a small collection of short stories that explore the themes of class, marriage, a-”

“Short stories, tch… I assume your summary will take up half the pamphlet.” 

She turned her nose up at him. “Fine then, I’ll find business elsewhere.”

“I doubt you will, Miss Fallow- Ah- Duvalle.” He ducked down, his face inches from her own upturned glare. “But perhaps we could… come to an agreement.”

Dangerous words. Maybe not on the surface, but she knew them for what they were.

Lord Granger chuckled a soft, dry sound. “Don’t worry, I think it will be mutually beneficial.”

Lord Whittler was looking, as was Lady Hale. She uncrossed her arms from her chest, shaping herself back into a demure lady of the valley. “Go on.”

“I will have a look at your stories. If they meet my standards for print, then I shall begin a small batch. We can see how they perform.” He paused. That was his own end of the bargain. What was hers? 

“I won’t have the reputation of Granger Printing Press harmed by your status, but it's clear you’ll never make a name for yourself on your own. I’ll sponsor your little act, support your histories, and you’ll study with me. Etiquette, writing, the formal dances, perhaps even…” he smiled with mild amusement, “the duties a woman performs for a noble husband.”

A wash of rose tinted Nettie’s cheeks. “That’s- why, that’s obscene!” A few onlookers paused their revelry, and Nettie lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “No.”

He shrugged a shoulder, turning toward the moonlit exit. “Then find yourself a different publisher, perhaps you will have better luck outside the valley… if you can get there.”

Another breath. In and out. How much did she want this? Freedom, her own wealth? A name for herself, fake as it may be? Yes, she wanted it. “I accept, Lord Granger.”

“Elliott,” his grin shown as wide as the mouth of a wolf. “I think you’ll prefer the taste of my first name. I know I’ll prefer the sound of it on your lips. On the morrow, Miss Antoinette Duvalle. I look forward to our partnership.”

She heaved a breath as he finally meandered to the exit, strolling like a man with all the power in the world. For someone like Nettie, he did. For some reason, she felt far more excited than scared. And that was dangerous.

[sideb-alicenchanted]

I am sorry if I am being annoying but does that mean Nyx was embarassed about the women he was bringing home because they couldn't measure up to all the other people in his life? Also was he in a relationship right now even if it wasn't serious?

You’re not being annoying at all!! I love getting messages

I wouldn’t say Nyx is embarrassed by them for his own reasons, more like afraid that his family will judge him. He wants to have a real mating bond with his equal match because he believes that is more deserving of respect.

As of the start of this fic, neither he nor Enid are currently in any kind of relationship.

[sideb-alicenchanted]

/lh w-WHAT DO YOU MEAN ELLIOTT FANS GET READY?! OwO WAAAA ABSDJSBSJSHSKDUSODEKFHKZBAKDWJDDN I WAS BORN READY FOR ELLIOTT TO POUND THIS PUSSY

lots of love from 5am anon uwu ❤️

(sorry if that's too explicit tho LOL)

(also just take your time to write the fic just wanted to go anon again and remind u that i love u and ur fics and that ur my fave fanfic queen mwah ❤️)

Bestie you can’t be too explicit with me, my fics are so much worse than that dw

We’re plugging along kinda slow but I will hopefully have the first chap out today!!

All my smutty sdv fics have been short one-shots but I’m ready to give Elliott the series he deserves 😮‍💨💪