#Elucien x reader

[readychilledwine]

Home to Me

Summary - After the death of Beron, Lucien is finally free to move to the Day Court, and he could not be more ecstatic to have you and Elain by his side

Warnings - moving anxiety, Helion being the best father in law, fluff

Prompt - Day 4 - Adventure

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek! I was really excited to play with Elucien and a Spring Court reader. Something about them as a trouple with another flower girl makes my heart skip.

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

Freedom was a concept Lucien so rarely knew. From living under his father's thumb to Tamlin's command to Rhysand's control, it had always felt like a goal, some far-off dream he would never reach.

Until he met Elain, of course. Elain, as difficult as chasing her was, quickly became his light. He had made her chase him in return for the years of waiting, and she had fought tooth and nail for him. He had never met someone with so much love to give, and who wished to give it so freely.

Meeting you just made sense due to that. Elain had met you in Spring as they were helping Tamlin with rebuilds where you personally were in charge of the garden overhauls due to your powers. He would never forget the way Elain ran back into the house, sliding down the wall as she held her heart, and Briar rushed to her as she whispered "Mate," over and over again.

Lucien went to where she had been and stopped. Your kind was rare, but there you were, iridescent wings tucked on your back, shifting yourself to a smaller size to move pollen from flower to flower. “Ah, y/n,” Tamlin had admired you as Lucien did. “She will be fine with all of this. They are all used to marrying in pairs.”

Courting you had been the easiest thing both of them had ever done. Lucien had joked you were a simple female. You were wooed by shiny things, by chocolates left at your door late at night, by long walks through your garden. Elain adored you first, but Lucien fell in love the hardest. You were so kind, so gentle. He could hardly imagine life without you or Elain.

Now, 10 years later, that life could openly be a reality. He put the last of your boxes into the portal Helion had opened from your home in Spring to the home you three would share in Day, clapping his hands together as it closed.

Elain was already there, unpacking and decorating the home. She wanted it to feel as safe and loving as possible for you, seeing as you had never once left the Spring Court borders in your 300 years of life.

You were the most nervous of the 3, moving to Day was a lot to ask of you, but with Beron finally gone, Lucien was free to be with his dad, to be home, and you and Elain both wanted to give him this chance. He deserved it. He had earned it.

He found you in your garden, overlooking centuries of hard work, “Blossom, are you ready to go?” His heart almost sank as you quickly wiped your cheeks before turning.

“Of course!” The lie was so obvious it was almost insulting as he walked to you and took your upper arms in his large hands.

“You're frightened?” You could only nod. “Tamlin promised to care for the home. You will be back here every Autumn and Winter along with the honeybees and butterflies. Your garden will be fine, my love.”

“It's not the garden. This whole thing is just scary.” You both paused as the sound of winnowing came followed by Elain's soft footsteps.

“Tulip?” She ran the distance to you, tugging you into her while being mindful of your delicate wings. “My heart, what's wrong?”

Lucien answered for you, pulling you both to him. “She's a little scared of the move.”

Elain hummed, kissing away the tear that fell on to your cheek. “I can't imagine how hard it is, leaving behind all you've ever known by choice. You are so brave for our happiness. Your fear is so justified, y/n. I can understand that part, trust me.”

“If you want to stay,” Lucien's throat tightened at the thought. “We will make this work. We can-”

“No,” you sighed, heavily leaning into them. “I want to be with you. Both of you. This is just a whole new experience and a new world and a new high lord.”

“If I am what you are worried about, I am pleased to inform you there is nothing to be afraid of.”

Lucien looked down at you two, metal eye whirling as the other rolled. “Dad, we're having a moment here.”

“And I am joining. Come here, sweet pixie.” Lucien And Elain released you, allowing you to move to the Lord of Day. “I know your kind was hunted outside of this court, but I promise you, you and those precious wings will be safe in my home.”

That slow realization hit Elain and Lucien like bricks. They were asking you to leave Spring, a place your kind had been allowed to make a haven, and you had selflessly agreed. “Your new home is within the walls of my palace. No guards or guests will be able to get to you without my approval, and you will have your own guards approved by Lucien and Elain. You will be safe to fly and pollinate all you wish. My gardens could use that.” Helion kissed your hand where the rose gold and pink diamond ring sat. “Give Day a chance. Let it be your first big adventure.”

You nodded at him, letting your father in law take your hand. “My butterflies and bees are already there?”

“They are.”

"And they are happy?"

"They are dining on the most exotic pollen and nectars they have ever had. They were very excited about the move." Helion offered you a soft smile as Lucien and Elain both tugged the bond.

You turned to them, taking one last moment to memorize them in the archway of Wisteria and Roses. “Alright. I'm ready.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist:

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

[polyacotarweek]

We're Back! Poly+ Acotar Week Returns

Stay tuned for more information. In the meantime, feel free to check out last years masterlists!

Can't wait to see you next April!

[ervotica]

wanting to cook something up for a polycule between elucien/tamlin/reader. i’ll make it a series if i get really into it because it is SEXY

[acourtofladydeath]

Multi/Poly X Reader ACOTAR Poll

I'd love to see you comment and/or tag your favorites! I know I personally would struggle to pick just one myself. Let me know if you prefer the pairing as poly or multi as well (poly being they all love each other, multi being one person is the center of all the love). What gender identity (if any) do you prefer for the reader to have with each ship? If your favorite option isn't there, please add it in the comments! There wasn't room for an "other" option, but I'm aware there's a lot more possibilities here!

Would be so grateful if you reblogged so this can reach as many people as possible! I've left the poll open for a week to see what results I get. LET ME KNOW ALL YOUR THOUGHTS!

Visit the Canon Character sister post here to cast your vote there as well!

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien x Reader | Bunny

type: smut warning(s): explicit descriptions, threesome, dom. sub. relations, pet names word count: 2.1k words request: could you write elucien x reader smut with reader as the sub 🤭

- all rights reserved - 

A low groan leaves the Autumn Court male’s throat, his large hands curling around the lower bed frame. A predatory gleam appears in his eyes when they roam your figure, how your body moves, how his other mate is sprawled out on the bed, back arching, pressing against you. 

The sounds that leave the two of you are like music in his ears, he loves it, loves watching the scene, holding back before joining. The light in the room is dimmed, the fire from the fireplace making your skin glow. Your hair is brushed over one shoulder, and Lucien once again wonders how he got so lucky to have the two of you, the two most beautiful females in all of Prythian, as his mates. 

He groans low in his throat, pushing off the frame when a soft, feminine gasp slips through Elain’s perfect lips.

“Is our little bunny making you feel good, my love?” Lucien drawls, lifting his gaze to Elain’s glossy eyes. Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed, one hand clasping her right breast. Lucien’s cock strains behind his pants, throbbing and aching with need. His fingers curl towards his palms and he exhales a loud breath. 

A lewd moan parts Elain lips even wider, her other hand softly stroking your hair. “She is making me feel so good, my lord," Elain moans, giving her breast a soft squeeze.

You love her praise, so you want to show her exactly what her praising you did to ypu. Elain squirms when you flick your tongue against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, adding just a tint more pleasure.

You chuckle in delight, sending vibrations throughout her body, your breath tickling her sensitive skin. The Archeron sister clicks her tongue, a brow raising. “Nothing to laugh about, sweetheart. Don’t want to hear that again. Behave, bunny,” she purrs, her tone yet sharp and leaving no room for you to obey nor to laugh again.

You tip your head back, sucking your lower lip between your teeth, tasting the sweet arousal of your mate. You meet Elain’s heated gaze, her plump lips parted, her chest heaving with deep inhales. “Sorry, my lady,” you whisper. “I will make up for it.”

You softly, kiss her lower belly, moving lower until you reconnect your lips with her centre, reveling in the warmth, the softness, the wetness of her. Elain hums contently, her delight reaching you through the bond. She exhales a loud breath when you let your tongue glide through her silken folds and you part her with your thumb, one hand braced on her soft hip, holding her down, spreading her wide open for you. 

Lucien groans deep in his throat, finally surrounding the bed. His presence fills the room, his tall figure drawing a shadow over you when he lowers his hand, letting it dance over your back. 

“Such a good girl she is,” he praises, fingers dancer lower. A shiver courses through your body, goosebumps appearing at his soft, gentle, tentative touch. You taste jasmine and honey in your mouth, lips swollen when the wrap around Elain’s clit, drawing a lewd sound from her, that has you grinning to yourself. You feel her shift on the bed, knowing she has thrown her head back. You also know that she is getting closer to the edge and you love this. You love making your lady come, make her feel good, worship her. The same with Lucien. There was nothing better than pleasuring them and receiving their praises for how well you did and their love.

“But how will you make up for spending this afternoon reading and going for a walk instead of going for ride with me?” Lucien asks, leering at your raised butt and giving it a soft smack. “Will you be my good girl as well? Will you make me feel as good as you make my lady feel? Will you make it up for me as well?” 

His fingers tentatively dance over your backside, tingling your skin, making the hair on your body stand.

You nod your head against Elain’s centre, inhaling her scent. Lucien braces on knee on the bed, leaning over you. He kisses your shoulder, fisting the hair at the back of your head and tipping your head back. It draws a sharp gasp from Elain.

She curses softly and grits her teeth, missing the feeling of your mouth on her hot flesh.

An almost cruel chuckle leaves Lucien at that, his gaze momentarily jumping to her. He blows her a kiss that makes Elain roll her eyes, her elbows braced on the bed. A wicked grin graces his face, his eyes lingering on Elain for a moment before he turn his focus back to his little bunny.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I will,” you breathe, your heavy-lidded gaze meeting Lucien’s. "I will be your good girl and make up for it."

The fiery male’s eyes, one of russet, one of metal, glow with feral delight. “And how will you do this?”

You wiggle your butt, still raised in the air, tilting your head backwards. “I want you take me while I make our lady feel good,” you whisper, smiling sheepishly. 

The Autumn Court male’s blood runs hot when his hands work the laces of his pants, slowly pulling them open and shoving them down his legs, slipping out of them. "Brilliant idea," he drawls, a sly smile blooming on his lips, his voice dropping at least an octave, turning even sultrier.

Moments later Lucien positions himself behind you, his hard length placed against your centre. Adjusting himself, he lets the tip slide into you, softly and carefully, letting you adjust to his size. You moan loudly, gasping at the feeling of his thickness filling and stretching you. He has a firm grip on your hips when he slides in to the hilt, stilling. 

“All good bunny?”

Lucien starts moving, careful, sliding in and out of you with soft, languid thrusts. “All good, my lord,” you whisper, your voice muffled by Elain’s core. The Archeron sister hums in delight, feeling herself get closer to the edge now that her eyes are on Lucien, towering behind you, moving against you, moving in you. He looks like a god, long, auburn flowing over his shoulders, his tanned skin coated in a thin layer of sweat, his head tipped back, eyes closed, lips parted. 

Your moans mingle with Elain’s soft pants and Lucien’s groans. 

The fiery male knows that Elain is getting closer to her climax, wanting nothing more than you making her come first. “Bunny, will you make our lady come? Be a good girl and make her come.”

Yes, you think, you want nothing more than that. 

Your hand sliding down her belly, your thumb presses down on her clit, rubbing softly. It makes Elain cry out in pleasure, and you increase the pace of your tongue driving into her. You devour.

Some primal power unleashed at those indecent sounds, Lucien starts pounding into you with a faster pace, his hips meeting your rear with harder thrusts. It fuels your desire even more, feasting on Elain like you have been starved for ages. The Archeron sister fists the bedsheets, rocking against your face, butt lifting from the mattress, her back arching. Her moans rise in pitch, Lucien’s low groans mixing with her ungodly sounds. Elain comes with a scream–a mix of your name and soft curses that would normally never leave her mouth.

“Such a good girl,” she pants, praising you when you let her ride our her height, softly guiding her through it, holding her hips, kissing her centre, softly licking ome last stroke.

Lucien thumbs the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, pushing you over the edge just a moment after Elain. Lucien guides you through your height, moving against you with sloppy thrusts, his hot release spurting against your walls when he comes with a shout. 

Although the two of them are more than content about how good you have been to them and how well you did, they are not yet done for the night. Now it is time for them to worship you properly. Lucien tilts his head at Elain, some non-verbal conversation happening that makes Elain understand immediately what Lucien has in mind.

On the bed the make you roll over, your back against Elain’s front. You meet Lucien’s gaze, his smile spreading over his face when the red-ish fire from the fireplace creates a halo around his figure. He is a god, you think, biting down on your lower lip when your eyes roam over his body, his solid chest, the dusting of red hair. 

“Lean back and relax, bunny,” Elain says in a breath purr. Her soft fingertips stroke up your arm, her breath warming your skin when she gently brushes her lips against your neck. “Let us worship you properly.”

Your toes curl at her statement, at her voice, at her soft touch. You grin and it is that grin that makes both Lucien’s and Elain’s heart swell, their smiles mirroring your delight, your happiness. “So beautiful,” Lucien hums, hooking his big, warm hands under your knee pits, spreading your legs open for him. His breathing halts momentarily when his gazes falls to your glistening centre. Lucien sucks his lower lips between his lips, fingers trembling slightly on your legs. “And perfect.”

“She is, isn’t she?” the Archeron sister coos, her hands sliding over your lower belly, her other hand curling around your throat, thumb stroking your jaw. You fully relax, marveling into Elain’s soft body, her warm skin, her tender strokes, tipping your head back, placing it on your mate’s lovely breasts. Your eyes flutter shut when Lucien kisses your lower belly, humming against your skin. Goosebumps appear, wet heat flooding your centre. Elain’s thumb strokes the skin under your right breast, her other hand sliding over yours, entangling your fingers with hers. You exhale a content breath, heart skipping a happy beat. 

The swipe of Lucien’s tongue through your silken folds has you squirming, the soft press of Elain’s hand on your throat calming you. Lucien flicks his tongue against your clit, lips closing over lip, suckling. You moan at the feeling and Elain loves how she feels your throat vibrating under her hand. Lucien groans when he drives his tongue deep into you, licking, suckling. He feasts on you like a starving male, feral delight reaching your through the bond when every restraint is unleashed. Hand slowly sliding lower Elain takes your right nipple between her forefinger and thumb, rolling and tugging, kneading your breast. She kisses the side of your head, and then your temple. “Doing so well. Are you enjoying yourself?” Squeezing your thighs around Lucien’s head, your eyes are closed and you lean into Elain. “So good,” you whisper. Satisfaction reaches you through the bond, along something musky–desire, lust, pleasure. They pleasure you simultaneously, all their movements in sync, overflowing you with pleasure. Flecks of white and black spark in front of your vision when you feel yourself getting closer.

“I am getting closer,” you pant, fisting the sheets at your side and squeezing Elain’s hand. Moaning your rock against Lucien’s face, butt lifting, back arching. Elain softly pecks your pointed air, “Let go, bunny. Come for us.”

Her voice and what she has said is your undoing–a wave of pleasure comes crashing in on you, washing you under when you feel your soul leave your body and enter a state of pure satisfaction and ecstasy. 

Later that night you fall asleep with your leg thrown over Lucien’s thigh and Elain’s arm wrapped around your middle. Elain kisses the back of your neck simultaneously to you kissing Lucien’s warm, solid chest. Your lids get heavier, sweet oblivion sweeping you under, making you enter a peaceful and content slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I did not add the Elucien tags since I wasn't sure if you wanted to be tagged in an Elucien x reader story

[mischiefmanagers]

Hello! I love your blog, especially the fic recommendations that you've posted (seriously you're out here doing God's work) but I couldn't find any Lucien recommendations? Was it deleted? Or was there never a post made for Lucien in the first place? Either way, if I could please get some recommendations that would be great :)

Thank you so much for all the content you've posted so far <3

And I hope you're having a great day ♡

Helloooo! I actually do not have a rec list for the lil fox boy. Admittedly, I do not have as many recs for Lucien as I do for the others. But I’ll do my best to make a big beefy list for you!

[lady-of-tearshed]

Blinded

Azriel x Reader

Summary:

Word count: angst, feeling worthless, yelling, cursing, betrayal, jealousy, big sad people, pregnancy (Elucien), injuries, violence. Yup.

A/N: Honestly? Be prepared. 🤣💕

Again, thank you @sarawritestories for always giving me to kick in the butt I need when I'm stuck! 💕 Thanks @milswrites for the moral support too ily 🥰

Azriel was staring at your lips. Those full sultry lips painted with that same shade of pink Elain loves to wear.

Only, you weren’t Elain.

He tried to convince himself that he could get over it, get over Elain. He could love, praise, and touch another female without thinking about her.

Could he?

“Az?” You whisper, each one of your rapid breaths formed a cloud that filled the small gap between yours and Azriel’s face. His grip on your hips loosened as he snapped back into reality. He gulped down his shame. Shit. Your eyes, so soft, and loving, and pure filled with concern, Azriel’s stomach dropped. “Are you alright?” She stroked his face, his lips. His lips were still swollen from the kiss…

From the kiss that he fantasized about sharing with another woman.

He tried to shake the thought of Elain away, tried to ignore his shadows whispering wrong, wrong, wrong in his ears. He could do it, he knew it. You were kind, very pretty, caring… “Yeah,” He whispered, before attacking your lips once again. The kiss was feral, rough. His lips were crashing hard against yours, teeth clashing, as he tried so desperately to forget about Elain’s softness.

Your heart was beating in sync with the loud, yet distant busy chatting of the crowd at Rita’s, situated not far from the gloomy alley you and Azriel had stumbled out to. The frenzy was too intense for you to wait before touching him, tasting him, smelling him. Your lips parted when the exposed skin, compliments to the deep cut of your dress that barely covered your body, collided with the cool surface. The earthy and vigorous taste of the wine you had imbibed earlier that night filled his own mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

Elain would’ve drank something sweet, or fruity.

He slowly pulled away from you, his thumb grazing the exposed skin on the small of your back. It sent shivers up your spine, and your nipples hardened. He stared at you, observed how red your cheeks were, how his lips had smushed your lipstick, how the smell of you changed from your arousal. But the love and adoration that shone into those eyes, your eyes, felt like a stab in his cruel heart.

He couldn’t do this.

“Let me fly you back home,” His voice was raspy. He tried to give you a genuine smile, and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his fingers combing through your now very disheveled hair. “Will you be staying?” He wanted to drown in the cauldron and succumb from his sorrows at the sound of your pleading, hopeful tone.

“Another night, when we’ll both be sober.” He lied. They had talked and danced more than they had to drink, he was far from drunk, and you too. But you just shrugged, offering him a kind and comprehensive smile. “Okay,” Was all that you’ve answered, before he picked you up into his arms and led you through the clear night sky.

He dropped you off, bowed his head, and said “Thank you, for tonight,” before flying away without another word. He didn’t even kiss you goodnight.

—

The sky was clear, and the weather started to warm up in Velaris. You had gone shopping for lighter dresses today, and couldn’t wait to come back home and swirl in them for your Illyrian to see, since he had been too busy to spend the morning with you. There were always piles of paperworks lingering on his desk, you couldn’t blame him.

You turned on yourself in the mirror, admiring the last dress you had to try on. It was the prettiest, the deep blue fabric instantly drew you in. It was the exact same blue of Azriel’s siphons. “So, what do you think!” You beamed, spinning around to look into those pretty shades of hazel dancing in his eyes. Your toes were curling in your shoes, excited to get his reaction on your newest, and now favorite, piece of clothing.

“Mhm,” He hums absent-mindedly. Your face dropped, and your eyes turned a tad more glossy than normal. You lifted your chin up, and instead of exploding with rage, or bursting in tears, you cleared your throat as a last attempt to get his attention.

Desperate, pathetic.

Azriel lifted up his head at last, his eyes quickly scanned you, and he gave you a tiny smirk of approval, accompanied by a small nod of his head. “You look good, baby,” He adds, only for good measure.

Good. Not stunning, not flawless, not delightful, not ravishing… Just good. You noticed how Azriel’s eyes drifted back to whatever paperwork he was doing the second you turned back around to face yourself in the mirror, you noticed how his gaze did not linger on any of your features for one second. The shadowsinger had always been a man of few words, showing his love mostly through actions. But lately… lately he was also a man of few actions.

You gulped down your tears, maybe he was just busier than usual, you thought, and yet… You pinched your arm, mentally scolding yourself for being so selfish. Azriel worked hard, he always bought you anything you’d wish and ask for, even more. He had to work a lot to get you all that. You concluded that you simply needed to be more grateful and understanding.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe you were too clingy. You inhaled, trying to get all of the possibilities of why Azriel was acting this way around you out of your mind, and you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. You repeated the action a few times, and once you were sure that your voice was steady enough to talk to him, you did. “I'm going out to see Elain today,” You said, your eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror, secretly analyzing how his body reacted to the second Archeron sister's name.

Azriel barely reacted, only the slight twitch of his fingers around his pen proved your point. Something about Elain was upsetting him, but what? “Have fun,” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. Azriel tried so damn hard to not think of how Elain’s scent would linger on your clothes for hours, maybe even days when you'll come back from your stupid little play date with her. Tried to ignore the insufferable truth that Elain, even when she belonged to another male, even when himself belonged to another female, to you, still haunted his memories every day, noon, and night.

“I will.” It took every ounce of your self-control to not snap at him. It was getting so hard to ignore that pull, that painful throb in your chest that kept screaming at you more, more, more! But deep down, you knew that Azriel would probably never be able to give you more.

To give you his heart, completely.

—

“How is Azriel?”

Elain's melodic voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Your fingers still plucked at some invasive weeds competing with Elain's stunning flowers for the nutrients, sunlight, and water. But you didn't dare lift your eyes to meet hers, knowing she'd see the lies dancing in your eyes. “Good. Busy, but good,” Which was true, in some ways.

He kept telling you he was fine, and it was true that he was busier than usual, but deep down, you knew he wasn't doing “good”. Elain nodded, the chestnut curls that escaped her bun bouncing on her forehead as she did so. She knew better than to press the topic with you.

“You're… pale,” Her stunning doe eyes burned with concern, and you felt so bad for lying to your friend, even if it was only partially a lie. “I'm fine.”

Suddenly, the air shifted, and a cool breeze ran at the back of your neck, leaving a veil of goosebump on your delicate skin. The sound of Elain's gardening tools clashing to the ground made you jolt. You rapidly lifted your gaze, and gasped when you took I'm the sight of her once brown eyes now turned completely white, the wind flowing through her hair. It was as if she commanded the air itself.

“Leave him,”

Her voice didn't sound like her own, it sounded like nails on a blackboard, scrapping your soul. You hissed, covering your ears, your eyes wide with fear. But you could still hear her voice, and her face was so close. Your body was frozen in place, as if you were hypnotized by those cold white orbs, and your mind screamed at you to back off, to call for help. To call for Lucien, Elain’s mate.

“The shadow male is bound to be blinded.”

The shaddow male could only be Azriel. Was he okay? What was happening? You hated riddles. “Blinded by what?!” You pressed, begging for answers and yet begging for the kind Archeron to come back to her usual self.

“The seer… The shadow male is bound to be blinded by the seer.”

“Elain!” You hadn't heard the grass sweeping against Lucien's fancy leather boots. Nor his hurried footsteps, and breathing, as he not so delicately moved Elain away from you. You landed on your butt, but you didn't take Lucien's actions personally. After all, he was only reacting instinctively as a newly mated male. You swiped a hand on your face, your brain reeling from the information.

Rage, jealousy, despair.

“Y/N…” You faintly heard Elain's voice, her real voice, call out for you. You didn't even realize the tears that rolled down your cheeks until you felt her soiled hands brush against your damp skin. “I need to go,” You didn't wait to be granted your leave before you hastened back inside the River House.

You almost tripped on the marbled floors, your shoe soles were now slippery because of the dew that had coated your heels. You shoved them out of your feets, the coldness of the floors not bothering you for one bit as you kept running, and running through the halls.

Rhysand’s office doors slammed open, making the Shadowsinger, and the High Lord startle slightly. You felt your heart being ripped open when you saw his eyes, on you, filled with worry.

It has been years since he last looked at you, truly looked at you.

“What is this about?” Azriel rose from his chair, his steps towards you careful, his shadows swirling around you frantically. “Elain,” He froze in place, and his pupils shook. “Is she alright?” Her. It had always been her. Her safety, her well being, simply her. It would always be her before you.

The shadow man is bound to be blinded by the seer, not you.

“She is,” You gulped, swiping away your own tears, the tears he yet hadn't noticed. He reached his hand to touch you, but you smacked his hand away, and he frowned. “I am not, Azriel. I am not alright. This is not alright,” You gesture between him and you. “I'm done.”

The bond snapped into place only for him to tug on the crumbling thread, watching as you reject the one thing Azriel longed for most in this life. A mate.

He fell to his knees, his hand curled at his chest as he looked up desperately at you. “What have you done…” His voice shook, his face red with anger, shame even. “What have you done!” He screamed, desperately trying to hold onto the hem of your dress, trying to keep you here, with him. He was angry, furious, at himself, at you, at Elain, at the cauldron that kept torturing his fate over and over again.

Rhys ran to Azriel's side, holding him back. You stumbled back, ripping the hem of your dress out of Azriel grip. He sobbed, and screamed as his soul was being ripped in half. Yours was too, but the damage had mostly been done throughout those years of being ignored, unloved and denied. Your soul and heart have been broken for a while now. You winnowed away, far away, and never came back.

Good riddance.

Taglist: @berryzxx @thelov3lybookworm @sidthedollface2 @favsrachz

[b00kdiary]

Can we please get an Eris x Plus size reader!!! I know he would be feral and you would write him so good >3

I will take ANYTHING for him!!! I trust you completely x

Fire Night | Eris Vanserra

Eris X Plus size Reader

It’s Fire Night and High Lord Eris has to complete the Great Rite. He finds Y/N – he finds his maiden.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, creepy Fae dude, and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Nervous?" Lucien teased from beside me, the moonlight and stars above beaming down on his tawny skin and the pleased smile he wore.

"High Lords don't get nervous, little brother," I smirked, winking at him as he scoffed, unimpressed by my sure response.

But even my own arrogance couldn't hide the fire I felt simmering in my veins, the intensity getting stronger and stronger as the moon neared its apex. Mud and grass ground under my feet as we moved through the field, the wind blowing a cool breeze that ran over my short hair, my loose slacks, and my painted bare chest.

As if the earth itself was in anticipation of what was to come.

We stopped at the foot of the field, the slight downhill slope allowing us to see the broad scope of just how many of my people gathered tonight. Hordes of males and females – dancing, drinking, partying. They vibrated with anticipation too.

For Fire Night had come at long last.

It was my first as High Lord. For weeks we had been preparing for the Great Rite, for the moment where all the magic would be funnelled from me into the earth, to the soil and trees, to my court to feed it, to flourish it.

It had been all we had talked about for several months, yet now that it was here, it all felt surreal. I could smell the burning log fires, the clouds of soot misting the night air. I could see my people thrum with excitement and arousal, keen to find a pretty stranger to escape into the darkness with.

But most importantly, I felt my power within me, like a beast rearing its head. I felt it sharpening, honing, as a predator would before the ultimate hunt for prey.

"Has anyone caught your eye yet?" Lucien asked from beside me, metal eye ticking as he glanced sidelong at me. If he felt my restlessness, he did not comment on it. "There are many beautiful females here tonight, Eris. How will you choose your maiden?"

My Maiden. The female whom I would join with – mind, body, and soul for the magic within me to be released.

My senses felt acute now, narrowing the higher and higher the moon rose. My attention upon the females here tonight narrowed too. I felt many of their eyes on me, their attention on me, hoping to be chosen, to be given the honour of the Maiden tonight.

Lucien was right, there were dozens of beautiful females here, so many, and all different – tall, short, fair, dark, petite, curved, brunettes, blondes, redheads and –

My wandering gaze stopped, abruptly. And I could not look away, even if I wanted to.

For there, at the far end of the field, stood near hidden amongst a group of females I saw her. For a moment, the fire in me quelled, the noise around me silenced, and it seemed even the breeze fell still.

For her.

She with that bright smile and those glowing doe eyes. She with luscious hair and skin that seemed kissed by the moonlight. She with that body – fuck, that body. Curves upon curves upon curves. A canvas of flesh that I desired to spend eternity exploring.

To touch and taste and pleasure.

"I don't choose," My voice was like gravel, deepening as I watched her plump lips part and her head tilt back with a laugh. A laugh I desperately wished I could hear. "I will just know who my maiden is."

That's what the Priestesses had told me – you will know, Eris, when you see her. You will feel her presence, you will scent her skin, you will hear the sound of her voice and you will know.

I grimaced as they spoke, biting my tongue to stop myself from smarting about how tradition usually came with little logic. But now, now I understood. Because looking at her, I knew.

Mine. That's what my magic hummed. That she was mine.

"It's beginning," Lucien muttered, twisting his braid from his shoulder to swing down his painted back. I watched her, something sparking in my chest as she giggled, marvelling at the moon slotting into its place high above. And then she began running toward the forest with the crowd.

Grinning brightly, her hair flowing behind her with the breeze of the wind. Her bare feet padded against the floor, her hand holding her skirt high enough to expose the soft flesh at her thighs. Incandescent, like a living star she disappeared with her friends into the trees.

The hunt had begun. I felt it in me, the near-painful heat of my fire within, the tension pulling tauter and tauter as if desperate to escape. Desperate to follow – to follow her, down that path and into the darkness beyond.

"I assume Elain is somewhere in the forest, waiting for you," I smirked at my brother, seeing something glint in his russet eye at the mention of the fair female. "Shouldn't you be off to find your mate?"

The fox hunting his fawn. I felt a mixture of pride and joy as my brother began chuckling, meandering down the hill in search of his wife at my teasing words.

"You have your maiden and I have mine," Lucien winked, his heart racing in his chest as he followed that bond, that invisible string toward his mate. "Good luck, Eris."

I laughed as Lucien moved toward the tree line, following the crowds of giddy, drunken Fae every single one of them in a hunt of their own. The drums quickened their beat, the rhythm marching in time to the pulse in me, that raging storm.

The moon was at its apex. The Great Rite had begun.

And as I stormed down the hill and into the forest's mouth, I too tugged on the invisible string within me, tugged on that insatiable power.

I knew it would take me straight to her.

***

"Sara? Maeve?" I called out again, looking aimlessly through the acres of forest and night. My voice died out in the wind, drowned by the noise of people and the beat of drums. "Guys?"

I groaned as I waded over branches and fallen trees, my Fae eyesight the only thing stopping me from cutting open my feet or falling onto my ass. I lifted my muddied skirt higher, exposing my thighs to the brash wind as I climbed over a huge tree root.

"Guys?" I tried again. I heard a feminine giggle, and I whipped to the right – a male and female rushed past me, kissing, and touching as they waded further into the forest. I shook my head at them, knowing they were one of many seeking refuge in another's arms tonight.

Fire Night, or the Great Rite as some called it was for all accounts and purposes a fuck fest. Simply a huge orgy.

Where the citizens of each court partied and drank and danced through the night, where they loosened their inhibitions and ran away with pretty strangers to engage in activities otherwise taboo. It was the one night where no one cared and no one judged, the one night where every intimacy was encouraged, every orgasm needed to fuel the harvest.

Only the High Lord had a true role tonight. To find his maiden, to join with her and through that release all the power within him back into the land. It was their intimacy that mattered the most tonight, their releases that would take us into a fruitful Spring season.

Sara and Maeve had laughed and scolded me for calling it a fuck fest, for diminishing such an old tradition. And yet, they had dragged me along tonight anyway. I was coaxed with music and dancing and alcohol, told that we would frolic through fields and bask in the moonlight and drink until we couldn't see.

And for a while, we had done exactly that.

We had sipped at the Fae wine until all I could taste was grape. We danced around the log fires with ribbons in our hair and the wind on our skin until our feet ached. We had enjoyed the lovely music, Sara flirting with the lute player, teasing him to come find her in the forest later.

And we had basked in the moonlight, frolicked through the forest, and laughed and laughed and laughed – until about ten minutes ago, when I had lost Sara and Meave in a flurry of people, my hand slipping free from theirs until I was carried away by a wave of the crowd in the opposite direction.

I was lost. And I had wandered far enough out into the forest that no one was here but me. I should have been panicked, should have been scared, but the Fae wine I had drank earlier quelled all those instincts, quelled them until nothing but the faint hum of inebriation remained.

"Not lost are you, darling?"

I jumped at the voice, the rough amusement breaking through the distant sound of music and the far-out litter of voices. I turned, my breath caught in my lungs and latched my eyes upon a male standing not two feet before me.

Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, built, attractive – and staring at me like he wondered what my blood would taste like coating his tongue.

"No, no," I shook my head, tightening my hold around my skirt, my instinct screaming at me that I may need to run. The male took a step forward, eyes darting to the exposed skin peeking under my skirt. "I was just looking for my friends."

"A pretty thing like you shouldn't be out here alone," He clucked his tongue. He stepped forward. I stepped back. He grinned and revulsion ran through me. "I can be your friend if you'd like. Take care of you."

I knew exactly how he would take care of me. Knew exactly what depravity was running through his mind as he stalked closer and closer to me. I shook my head again, the forest terrifyingly quiet now as I yielded step after step from him.

"I'm fine, thank you," My knuckles were white from how tightly I held my skirt. I eyed the clearing behind him, the path back to the people and fires and dancing. Back to safety. His dark eyes glinted like he knew he was the one obstacle in my path. "I should return to the festivities – "

"Oh, come on," His voice turned sharp, lethal and I felt bile twist in my stomach as his slender hand clamped around my wrist, tugging me toward him. I smelt the wine on his breath as he yanked me to his side. "We both know you're not here for the music and dancing."

"Let go," I breathed, trying to pull my arm free. He clamped down until it hurt. My wide eyes met his, tears in them as I tried to pull back. "I said – "

"Let go," A voice of a God seared through the air. Tinged with flames and violence. "She said let go."

The male holding me snarled quietly, his drunken gaze ripping from my terrified face to whoever dared interrupt behind him.

His hand was furiously holding me one second and then the next his fingers slipped free. I stumbled back, clutching my aching wrist to my chest and staring at that unnervingly still male as he stared ahead. He was so tall, so broad I couldn't see who was there, couldn't see what had made him so scared.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. His voice cracked. I think I smelt urine too. "I'm sorry, High-"

"Leave," That voice again, as if torn from the Cauldron itself. So much anger, so much death promised in just one word.

And with that command, that trembling weak male scurried away like the vermin he was. Tail between his legs, head bowed and eyes on the floor, so small now as he ran back toward the field. And as he shifted from my eyeline, I saw what, who had begot that fear.

"High Lord," I breathed, the air whooshing from my lungs at the sight of the male stood before me.

Tall, foreboding, broad – Glorious.

I traced his pale, moonlit skin his chest exposed and painted beautifully with intricate dark whorls, every strong hard inch of him. His hair had been cut short, the bright auburn locks like a beacon in the darkness, as were his eyes – amber, and I swore I saw flames simmering in them as he slowly stalked toward me.

The air went taut – as if time and space and life itself had paused at our meeting. And the sight of him, that beautiful, indomitable masculine strength had my body trembling the closer he got.

My back hit a massive tree behind me and suddenly, like a lamb before a lion, I was caged in, trapped. He stopped, so close I could smell the warm cinnamon, the tart apple and rich clove on his skin. I could feel the heat of the fire in his veins, could feel the sweet burn of his gaze as he traced his eyes over my face and body.

"Did he hurt you?" He asked, voice like warmed honey and tart berries. I sucked in a sharp breath when his large hand came forward, tucking my hair behind an arched ear, his fingers brushing my skin just barely. I felt that touch through my whole body.

"No, I'm fine," I whispered, the pine digging into my back. Something in me yearned to go closer to him, yearned to feed into his touch, but I fought it, let the cut of wood against my skin distract me. "Thank you, for your help High Lord."

He stepped closer and I had to crane my neck to meet his furious, wild eyes. His hand lingered on my cheek, burning burning burning. And then his other hand moved, rested against the tree beside my head, and he leaned in, so close I knew he could smell the sweet wine with every shaking breath I took.

"Do you know how I found you, My Lady?" He asked, quiet menace lacing his words. I smelt mint and cider on his breath. I nearly moaned at how good it smelt. He continued when I didn't reply. "I followed my power. Followed the scent of you, the sound of you followed every print you made in the ground."

"Why?" I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as he inched forward, his beautiful face lowering to mine until I could count the freckles across his cheeks, could see the embers crackling in his iris. My eyes fluttered when his nose brushed mine and sparks followed that touch.

"My magic wanted you; it chose you," He said, a growl rumbling through him as he traced his nose across my cheek, letting my scent invade his senses. "My maiden. Mine."

Maiden.

Maiden.

Maiden.

Mine.

There was a lump lodged in my throat as the realisation settled in me. That I had been chosen, that I was the maiden for the Great Rite tonight. Me.

Eris pulled back, dark lashes fluttering as he peered down at me, his aura addictive and dark, assessing each rise and fall of my chest. Calloused fingers cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing along the skin there, leaving fire and need in its wake.

That burning in me it was because of him. It was in response to him.

"Do you accept, My Lady?" He breathed, and the way he addressed me, was full of reverence, of awe. A match for the look in his eyes as he traced my face, languished down my body. "Will you be my maiden? Will you let me worship you tonight?"

Worship me. He wanted to worship me, not the other way around. A night that was for him, that revered his power and yet he spoke as if this ceremony was in fealty to me as if I were the Goddess he would bow before.

That hand languished down my jaw, down my neck, the touch appraising, stopping just at the top of my chest. His amber eyes dipped, darkening at the valley between my breasts, at the material that clung to the small peaks of my nipples.

Worship, that is what his eyes said. Veneration at the foot of my altar.

"Yes, High Lord," I whispered, every word as breathless as the last. His hand on my chest tightened, and the ache that spread through me became nearly unbearable. "Tonight, I am yours."

A tsunami of fire erupted in his eyes at my words and every inch of me was molten at that look. At the promise behind it.

"Then I am yours too, My Lady."

He's upon me before I can even appreciate his words, the oath behind them. And by the Mother, I could taste the fire on his lips, taste the flames burning in his sweet mouth.

My back hits the tree as Eris claims me, his lips moving against mine in a way that could only be described as hungry. Lips and teeth and tongue and spit, the kind of kiss that devoured, that did not leave even an inch of space.

I moaned at the feel of his mouth against mine, moaned more as he pressed his tall, strong body flush against me, letting me map out every muscled inch of him. He growls at the noises that slip from me and into him, one hand curling around the base of my throat and squeezing.

"Eris," I whimper, the breath catching in my lungs as his long fingers close around my windpipe just barely. He groans, like a man starved as I nibble at his lip.

"Say that again," He commands, voice like death incarnate. And every atom in me wants to obey, every atom in me lives to satisfy him.

"Eris," I plead his name again, my back arching against the wood as he begins kissing and biting furiously across my jaw and jugular, the hand at my throat keeping me rooted in place. "Eris, please – "

I cry out at the sound of fabric tearing and suddenly, I feel a cold breeze against my back and hips. More fabric rips and I whimper as Eris yanks my ruined dress from my body, savage as he exposes my naked form to him.

"Fuck," He curses roughly, eyes like Hel itself as he gazes down at my naked body, my dress a ruined heap on the floor behind us now. My body is alight as he traces every inch of me, his chest erratic as he takes in my bare breasts, my stomach and hips, the way I clench my thighs to satiate the ache between them.

"Look at you," He muses, smirking as he runs his hands down the sides of my body, nails scratching at my flesh, his pupils blown out with lust as he takes me in. "Like a blessing from the Mother herself." 

 I croon at the satisfied growl in every word, back bowing when his hands caress down my waist and hips, kneading the skin before settling over my ass. He groans as he fondles the flesh, canines nipping at the base of my throat.

“Eris!” I squeal when his hand claps against my ass cheek, the sound loud in the silence of the forest. He laughs, massaging the hot, aching spot and it’s almost embarrassing how wet I am, embarrassing how I can feel it dripping down my thighs. “Please, please Eris. Take me – “

“I will, my lady,” He mutters, the sound muffled as he circles his tongue around my nipple, teasing the sensitive buds. I lace my fingers into his short, silken hair and I feel him sink down, down, down, my body.

“High Lord?” My voice is shaking as I stare down at him. He’s on his knees before me, amber eyes peering up through long lashes at my naked, trembling body.

High Lord of the Autumn Court. On his knees before me.

“I’ll take you, sweet girl, don’t you worry,” He muses, and I’m not breathing as his hands come to my thick thighs, parting them and moaning at the wetness dripping from my core. His eyes flash to me, molten and cruel. “But a female as pretty as you has to come on my tongue before she can around my cock.”

He looked ravenous as he curled his large hand around my calf and lifted my leg to hook over his broad shoulder. I should have been embarrassed, mortified at the prospect of being naked in the middle of a forest, for anyone to stumble upon.

But as he neared the wet, aching spot between my legs, I didn’t care.

“Oh Gods,” I gasped at the first broad stroke of his tongue through my folds.  Eris growled, a purely satisfied, appraising sound and when he traced his tongue up from my wet hole and to my clit again, my head tilted back against the bark, and I moaned.

I was grateful for the drums and the music pounding through the air, glad for how far into the forest we were, glad that everyone else was preoccupied with their own partners tonight. Because as Eris’s tongue licked and sucked and flicked against my core, I couldn’t contain any of the noises that ripped from me.

Eris groaned, content and satiated, one hand sprawled across my thigh, the other holding down my flailing hip as he lapped his tongue over me again and again, tasting me in a way that had tears brimming in my eyes.

“Taste so sweet,” He muttered, lips plucking back from my swollen clit, the sound so lewd. He didn’t waste any time though, no, he slipped lower, and I whimpered into the night air as he shoved his hot tongue into me, fucking my tight walls furiously.

Eris was a male who took his females pleasure seriously, seemed to feed off it, and seemed to relish it. His tongue slipped in and out of me and his nose brushed my clit back and forth, stimulating two spots that made my body shake from the pleasure.

My climax approached me so fast, that fire that simmered in me from Eris’s presence stoked and suddenly I felt the flames kiss my whole body.

I cried out, his tongue buried in me and his nose toying with my clit, the sounds wet and filthy, his grumble of approval vibrating through me.

“Eris, Eris – “

Everything eclipsed my vision as my orgasm hit me, so hard I felt it rattle my very bones. My back bowed and my eyes rolled, tremors wrecking me as waves of release washed over me. I was moaning, near crying, my stomach and thighs clenching and unclenching as Eris’s tongue lapped and lapped at me.

I felt my release pulsing in the air around us, a living breathing thing. I swear the wind kissed me at the feeling as if nature itself was thanking me for the power I’d let free into the world.

I whined desperately, pushing at his head and writhing, trying to pull my sensitive clit free from his merciless mouth. He chuckled, lips plucking away and relenting. I sagged in relief, back pressed flush to the tree behind me.

“You look so beautiful,” Eris breathed and my heavy eyes blinked open meeting his. He looked beautiful – on his knees, sweat coating his skin, my wetness glistening over his mouth and nose. “I wonder how perfect you'll look coming around my cock.”

He smirked, looking like a Prince of Hel as his hand snaked up my sweating body and wrapped firmly around my throat. He tugged me down, his lips crashing against mine, letting me taste myself on his tongue. My hands fell to his broad, muscled chest and his arm snaked around my back, fingers digging into me.

One second, I was before him and then the next, he yanked me down and flipped me so that I lay on my back against the grass and mud.

I giggled, my heart thundering wildly in my chest as he braced his arms on either side of me, face hovering over mine. The smirk he wore was terrifying, a promise of ruination. I could feel the tension going taut between us, feel his power thrumming in anticipation.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Eris asked, wicked menace lacing every word. I whimpered as his nose brushed mine, one hand slipping between our bodies and pushing down his slacks. He hissed as his cock slipped free, his hand curling around himself and pumping.

“Yes, High Lord,” I whispered, satisfaction filling me when Eris snarled, that title on my lips more arousing than he could think possible. His nails dug into my flesh as he hooked my thigh around his muscled hip, and we both moaned when his tip brushed my centre.

He was big, thick, and long, I could feel it as he traced through my folds, coating himself in me. I curled one hand into his short hair, the other raked down his muscled arm, his skin scorching with intense heat, vibrating with power under my touch.

“Oh – “

He slipped his tip into me, and the stretch from just that one inch was enough to knock the air from my lungs. And then my back was arching against the soft ground, as he pushed in another inch and then another until my walls were burning and my thighs were shaking from the pressure.

“Look at me,” Eris commanded, his voice hissing through his clenched teeth. I blinked my eyes open, meeting a sea of blazing embers. Eris grinned as he maxed out in me, his hips brushing mine as he settled. “Good girl.”

“Er-Eris – “ I choke, my body spasming as he pulls his cock out to the tip, leaving me utterly bare before slamming his hips forward in one brutal thrust, forcing himself back into me until he hits my cervix.

He does that again and again. He pulls out and then he shoves it back in. Every last inch. And I scream for him, I clench around him, I let him ruin me.

My body trembles as Eris begins fucking into me, his hips rolling hard and deep, stretching my tight walls until all the pain vanishes and becomes a pure, euphoric pleasure. His pace is brutal, unforgiving, his hold on my body bruising as he forces me to adjust, forces me to take it.

“Just like that,” He praises the voice of a God, the voice of a High Lord, a male who was in complete control. His lips meet mine, teeth and spit, biting my lips and battling my tongue as he moves inside me.

It was like no other experience I’d ever had, like sleeping with no other male. I felt every stroke through my whole body, felt every brush of his tip in the spongey spot deep in me through my blood and veins. Was it because he was a High Lord? Was it because of the Great Rite? It had never felt this good before.

And Eris seemed to know it, he seemed to feel the same. The noises that came from the High Lord, the snarls and growls, the grumble of deep groans that reverberated into me as he sunk in at a different angle. The small whimpers and desperate moans as I kissed and suckled his lips, his jaw and neck.

His hips jolt into me, hard and deep and fast, hitting a spot that makes tears leak down my cheeks. Tears that Eris chuckles at, a sardonic sound before he gently licks them away. His kisses were soft, so at odds with how his cock fucked me raw.

“Eris,” My mouth gapes open as that familiar pool in me begins to fill. “Oh Gods, Eris I’m going to come – “

His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing in intervals around my windpipe, in tandem with how his cock drives into me. Stars start bursting through my gaze, I see his amber eyes, I see the moon shining above, and I feel my power gathering and gathering.

“Are you going to come, my lady?” He mocks, sweat beads coating his skin, melting our bodies together. I sob, the sound choking out of me from the lack of air. “Is the maiden going to make a mess of her High Lords cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cry out at his filthy words, my nails biting against his skin, against his scalp as the fire in me rages into a full-blown storm. Eris curses at how tightly I clench around him and his amber eyes light, like candles flickering to life.

The air turns still. The wind stops moving. Even the sound around us dies out. He hits that spot in me again and again, and the power between us is starting to tear apart.

“With me,” Eris snarls, pressing a wet kiss to my lips. His movements become erratic, desperate, and that last thread rips away and he groans. “Come with me, my lady.”

I scream his name, and flames engulf us both as he roars, his cock spasming and spilling his cum inside me. Black dots fill my vision, and all I can feel, all I become is fire – it explodes from us, from him, as release waves and waves and waves over us.

It's unlike any climax I’d ever felt before, my thighs clamping around his waist, my walls suffocating him inside me and both our bodies shaking from the aftermath. Power leaks from him, from me, and I can feel it seeping into the soil, into the trees, into the very air.

I force my eyes open, watching as Eris pants above me, one hand holding my throat, the other braced beside my head. A God, he looked like a God – moonlight beaming over his wet skin, amber eyes a tsunami of flames, his strong throat working as he groaned from the pleasure ringing from him.

The ultimate release, not just sexually, not just physically, but spiritually – he was feeding our land, feeding our Court.

“Fuck,” Eris curses, voice like gravel now. He collapses against my chest, burying his head into the crook of my neck as his orgasm fades, as the Great Rite is completed. I hold him to me, our heart beats pounding in tandem as we come down from our highs. “Fuck.”

I run my hand through the damp stands of his hair, kissing his cheek tenderly, feeling his cock still inside me, softening. His hands curl around my waist and thigh, not even an inch of space between us. It was just me and him, the moon above, the forest around and the wind kissing our skin.

The earth felt fuller somehow, everything felt stronger around us.

“Congratulations, High Lord,” I smiled, feeling Eris chuckle against my skin. He kisses the junction where my neck and shoulder meet. “You’ve completed your first Fire Night.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, my maiden,” He nipped at my jaw as he raised his head, grinning at the giggle that escaped me. His amber eyes met mine, liquid gold in them and he smiled. “Only your sweet – “

His words stopped, abruptly. As if someone had torn the air from his lungs. As if someone had frozen all movement in his body.

“Eris, what – “

Amber eyes. Pale moonlit skin. Fire, fire, fire –

And then it clicks into place in me too. I feel it like the last piece of my soul.

“Mate,” Eris breathes, and his hands tighten over my flesh. Possessive. Needy. Claiming. “You’re my mate.”

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

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[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: Lucien x Reader, Elucien

🔮 preview: Hanahaki Disease definition: “If your love is not getting returned, flowers start growing inside your body, suffocating you from the inside. Surgical removal is dangerous and you're dying without your soulmate's love.”

📣 trigger warnings: pining, unacquainted romance, vomiting, mentions of blood, ambiguous ending

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 4.5k

💜 masterlist + notes: I am the Queen of Angst, as per @prythianpages… another one for the books. I loved Lucien, I loved him since ACOTAR. And so, it is time… to give him some angst to his already angsty story. I do hope you guys enjoy it!

“Lucien —-”

You gasped his name, struggling against the bonds that bound your hands behind your back, your knees ached against the stone ground. Tears lined your eyes, watching Lucien leave your side, tugging the turned middle Archeron sister into his arms, her wet form shivering from being drowned into the cauldron moments earlier.

The world around you slowed and all you could focus on was how Lucien held the sister so tenderly in his arms. For a moment, his back stiffened, and looked over his shoulder — back at you. Your eyes connected and all you felt was a burst in your chest — one that glowed but also one that was slowly suffocating you.

A mating bond.

Another gasp escaped your lips, head bowing as you pressed your forehead against the cool stone underneath your body. Your chest heaved, gasping as your back arched — your throat burned, your chest ached, you felt as if your lungs were on fire. You felt like you were burning from the inside out. Tilting your head up, you hoped that Lucien’s gaze was still on you, that he would abandon the Archeron sister and return to your side — you had hoped that the mating bond snapped for him as well; however, that wasn’t the case.

The eldest Archeron sister snatched the younger back into her arms, pushing Lucien away, him stumbling back from the strength. You watched as Lucien and the middle sister’s gaze intertwined, and even from your position, you could hear the disbelief in his tone.

“You’re my mate.”

The world tilted in front of you, and chaos ensued. You didn’t care whether Tamlin had broken out of his bonds and stalked towards Feyre. You didn’t care that Feyre was begging Tamlin to break the bond between her and Rhysand. You didn’t care that the Hybern King had caused all this madness — just for the Cauldron.

You just didn’t care.

Because all you cared about was the fact that Lucien had felt the bond with the middle Archeron sister — the beautiful Cauldron-Made fae — and not you.

Your world blurred behind your eyes, and you didn’t even realize that Mor was winnowing everyone of the Inner Circle away — the ward had been broken, and everyone was escaping. You watched as she ripped the Archeron sister from Lucien’s grasp, the male roaring at the loss of his mate. He clawed and grasped the ground where she had laid. You wanted to call out to him, tell him that you were still there — that he had another mate. But your voice died in your throat, and you barely could even let out a whisper of his name. Your throat burned, and you felt your lungs constrict and you couldn’t get any air in your lungs.

Pressing your hand against your throat, you wheezed.

You couldn’t breathe.

Panic set into your features as you clawed the palms of your hands, blood dripping down onto the ground. Arms gathered around you, tugging the bonds away from your wrist as you looked up, “—-Mor…” you choked out, grasping her upper arms as you struggled to get to your feet. You focused on her, and not the fact that your body was slowly being deprived of air.

She pressed her lips on the crown of your head, soothing you, as if she knew exactly what had happened between you and Lucien, “Hold on tight, (Y/N), we’re going home… You’re going to be okay…”

Wrapping your arms around her shoulders, you glanced at Lucien, watching him snap his head back towards you as if feeling that you were going to be taken away from him as well. Your eyes locked with his and you felt tears cascade down your cheeks.

“(Y/N)—-…!”

Your name slipped from his lips and all you saw before you were taken in swirls of light and darkness, was his hand reaching out to you.

“(Y/N)…”

You held up a hand, stopping a worried Feyre from coming to your aid. Eyes locked with hers and all you could do was shake your head, a silent plead not to draw any attention. A moment of silence passed before your gaze drifted up those familiar marble steps, the scent of your mate lingering in the air.

Lucien had just stopped by the River House and passed you — heading up those stairs… into Elain’s room.

You held your breath, awaiting the moment when the pain would slam into your body.

Burst!

A painful gasp escaped your lips as you grasped your chest, feeling the burst of flowers invading your lungs. It had taken your breath away so strongly that you stumbled backward, pressing your back against the marble column, chest heaving as you tried to gain any ounce of air into your flower-filled lungs.

Tears stung your eyes as the pain wracked your body, teeth biting into pink-stained lips, fighting back a painful cry that threatened to leave your throat. You couldn’t make noise… not when Lucien was oh-so-close to hearing it.

Just the thought of the male caused another surge of pain, feeling your organs being pushed around inside your body to make way for more of those deadly flowers to occupy your being.

It hurt so much.

All you could focus was on the indescribable pain, feeling every burst and explosion of your illness taking over your body, that you barely were able to feel gentle hands cupping your cheek — the scent of paint and starlight invading your system — Feyre.

You couldn’t help but lean into her gentle hold, her warmth as you blinked away the white flashes of pain, trying with all your might to focus on your friend. The High Lady looked at you with fear and worry etched on her beautiful, ethereal features and all you could do was give her a small smile, despite the pain that wracked your body with tiny shivers, “I’m fine, Feyre…” You tried to reassure her, your voice meek and strained… your tone shaking underneath each word. You wanted to convince yourself that you were fine… it was just another flare of your illness.

It would pass.

It always did.

Both of you knew you were nothing but fine.

Not when the source of your pain was just up those marble steps.

Your face scrunched as another wave of pain shook your body, your back arching and your limbs stiffening at the agony that you were succumbing to every time your illness took over. Attempting to regain control over your body, you pressed your palm against your mouth, trying to fight back every urge to vomit all over the floor. But the burn in your throat was so strong, that the need to empty your stomach would help alleviate the pain. You scrambled to push Feyre away, pressing your hands against marble floors — and all you could do was heave.

A rainbow of flowers splashed onto those pristine floors — vines and thorns from those very flowers scratching your lungs and throat, causing blood to spew out of your lips, dripping down the edge of your lips, coating those flowers with red and the smell of metal lingering in your mouth.

It burns, it hurts.

That was all that you can think of.

How the pain took over your whole body, and there was nothing else you could think of.

Not even the fact that your destined mate had decided to choose a bond that was not connected to you.

Tears of agony cascaded down your cheeks as you gagged and heaved those flowers that took over your entire system. You inhaled, grasping as much air as you could before you vomited again, this time the contents of your stomach pooling underneath you.

You didn’t understand why. You couldn’t understand why this was cursed upon you — why you were destined to live this way, in so much pain… in so much hurt.

In so much loneliness.

For millennials, you had believed a mating bond was a beautiful thing, something that a happy ever after would grant you, much like those fairytale stories that you read as a child.

But for centuries, you realized that a mating bond was nothing but a curse.

The beauty of a mating bond, the flowers of love and romance… disguised as torture and unhappiness.

You didn’t even know, nor did you care, how long you were in that foyer, puking your lungs and stomach out. At that point, you didn’t care if Lucien had heard your retching from Elain’s room. All you wanted was for the pain to stop. Your vision blurred and your body swayed under the exhaustion you felt. You tried to stay conscious, tried to keep yourself from fainting… but you were so tired. You felt your body sway, the weariness tugging your brain to the darkness. But you caught yourself, regaining your balance with your hands and knees, fingers grasping onto the soft petals that lay beneath you, feeling them crunch underneath your grip.

Oh, how you hated it.

Hated how those flowers felt underneath your palm.

They were soft and gentle… but they grew inside of you — a curse to remind you of how devious and deceiving a mating bond was.

You had been so focused on the pain, so focused on staying awake that you barely heard the shuffling around you, how shadows covered your body, soothing your aching body. Whispers of worry passed over your subconscious, not having the energy to listen to what they were saying — was it about you? Did they take pity on your pain and suffering? You didn’t have an ounce to care. When gentle hands grasped your hands, feeling Feyre’s hands slip away from your cheeks, you whimpered, missing the warmth from your friend, only to be lulled into warm and gentle arms.

Blinking away the weariness and the tears, you looked up, your head lulling back onto broad shoulders and into beautiful violet hues.

“Rhys…” you whispered, your voice hoarse, your hands weakly reaching up to grasp his suit, bunching it up in your blood-stained hand, trying to ground yourself, to distract yourself from the pain that plagued your body.

Your body stiffened in his hold, another wave of agony threatened to pull you into subconsciousness. You whimpered, trying to gain little control over what was left of your body, one that was not dominated by torment.

You tried to focus on his words, seeing his lips open and close, as if telling you something — but the fog that penetrated your mind was so strong that it was just noise in your head. Vision swayed and black spots appeared in your vision. Your head rolled back again, your body becoming heavy in Rhys’ arms, as you felt him shift your body in his hold.

Gentle hands grasped the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at those violet hues. You blinked, trying to focus on the High Lord before a wave of darkness stormed into your mind, gently taking the pain away before lulling you into darkness — your body felt light, your mind drifting in the sea of darkness that welcomed you.

You floated in that darkness and all you hoped was that you would never wake up — would never have to succumb to the pain again. And never would have to face your mate who yearned for another.

But your wishes would never come true — they never did.

And when you had awoken, nightfall had fallen over Valeris.

Your body felt heavy, something that you had grown used to, after an intense eruption of your illness.

You lay there, in your bed, trying to attempt to lull yourself back into sleep, into that darkness that made you feel nothing. But your mind screamed at you to wake, to not drift into that darkness again.

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips, your throat burning from retching your lungs out, as you allowed your fingers to gently wiggle underneath the satin sheets, attempting to regain control over your body, feeling the cool sensation under your fingertips, grounding yourself back to the present — away from the memory of mental and physical suffering. You lay there, for seconds, minutes… hours before you opted to open your eyes. You blinked away the dried tears that crusted them, you blinked away the fatigue that made your eyelids feel heavy, as you focused on the painted ceiling above you — an image of the night sky, the one that mirrored the one outside your very windows. It usually gave you comfort, it gave you a sense of peace.

But at that very moment, all you felt was hollow.

As if you had emptied your whole self, your whole soul with those flowers, hours earlier. And now, there was nothing left of you. Your body was nothing but a greenhouse to create those painful flowers, there was no you left in the shell of your body.

It was a feeling, a moment that you would never get used to. On the feeling of being lost, that no one would be able to understand what you go through. And that no one ever would.

The door creaked open, the sound resonating loudly in your quiet room before the patter of feet entered your room.

You had no energy to look see who it was, you had no energy to do anything besides just lay there and rot, to decay into soil for those rotten flowers to grow from.

The bed dipped and you glanced over to see Feyre, that same worried expression on her features. You watched how her face twitched and shifted, trying to find the proper guise to speak to you with… but all you could see was the shadow of concern in her look. You watched as her brain turned, her lips parting before closing again — trying to figure out how to approach you.

Like you were an endangered, hurt animal.

“…How are you feeling, (Y/N)?” her lips tugged up into a simper of a smile, after a few minutes of silence, though her brows knitted together, assessing you from your supine position in bed, trying to gauge your physical and mental condition.

Dull eyes stared at her, unblinking and unmoving, and your throat itched to say something — something to smooth out those lines on her features.

But you couldn’t.

There were no words that could describe how much agony you go through… Every. Single. Time. You could never explain to Feyre, to Rhysand, or the rest of the Inner Circle… how it feels to have something so beautiful be so deadly.

No matter how many times they ask you, try to pull words out of you, or even whenever you allow Rhysand to wander your mind to understand just a bit of your pain… they would never fully understand.

All because your love was unreciprocated.

Your love and bond with Lucien Vanserra.

You had known him for centuries, ever since he had stepped into the borders of Spring Court. You had been nothing but the daughter of a low-ranking noble, one who had the privilege of serving Tamlin as a scholar in the High Lord’s castle; he had been the one to give you such a title. You had been the one who alerted your High Lord about the threat of Lucien’s brothers’ attempt at his life. You had been the one who befriended Lucien and allowed him to adjust while he was found a position in Tamlin’s court. You had been the one to stay by his side when the High Queen had ripped his eye out, been the one to nurse him back to health. You had gone through forty-nine years of the curse alongside him. And you had been the one beside him through the perils of Under the Mountain.

You had been his first friend in Spring Court.

And he had been your first love.

You had hoped and prayed for the Mother and the Gods to will your kindred spirits into a mating bond. You had hoped and prayed you gain any confidence to confess your feelings for him. But for centuries, that had been your downfall, you had been content with his presence, content with his friendship that you had believed that nothing would have changed.

But in the end, everything changed.

Feyre looked into your eyes, trying to find that part of you that still fought — fought for your life and your soul against this illness, but when she couldn’t, she sighed, willing back tears before reaching over to run her fingers through your tangled locks, trying to formulate comforting words to help you with your ordeal. But both of you knew, after knowing each other for years, there were no words that would soothe your pain.

Turning your head towards the rays of light that shone from your large windows, you focused on the soothing motion of your friend’s delicate fingers through your hair as you soaked in the night, twinkling sky of Valeris.

You had realized over the past few months you’ve lived in Night Court, that you had fallen in love with the night sky — how vast and never-ending it was over your head. It had eclipsed your previous adoration for your former home’s vast spring fields, ones that were overrun with wildflower and fresh grass — and that, now, you would happily die just laying out and staring into the twinkling night of Valeris’ skies.

Feyre had always said your sense of humor was morbid, how you would casually just bring up how you’d die as if it was a normal conversation starter.

But to you, it was.

Your illness was the only thing on your mind nowadays. Wondering when you would succumb to the pain and just die, or when the flowers finally take over your body — what would happen to you? Would you become a tree, lifeless and hollow, sprouting flowers from your mouth and nose?

It was the fear that drove your thoughts, turning them into morbid humor.

Because it was the only way you could cope with your looming doom.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, tasting the petals in your lungs, you turned back to Feyre, “…Is he still with her?”

Pain tugged on Feyre’s features and her hand grew still against your locks, hand pulling away and you could see that it was shaking.

That was the only confirmation you needed.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” Feyre whispered, shifting so that she could sit closer to you, bringing your body into her warm embrace, “I had tried. Tried to force them apart with multiple different excuses, but Elain wanted to see him. She felt the tug on his end of the bond… and had grown curious... They’ve been together the whole night…”

There was nothing she could do to help soothe the ache in your chest. No comforting words, no gentle gestures. Nothing.

Tears brimmed your vision and all you could do was curse the Mother and the Cauldron.

Why couldn’t it be you?

Why couldn’t it be you that Lucien felt at the end of the golden string?

Why did the Cauldron deem that Elain was better for Lucien than you?

“(Y/N)…”

A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you looked over your shoulder, the sound of your name coming from a familiar-sounding voice — one that you had wished for centuries would call yours more often.

“Lucien…”

There stood at the threshold of your bedroom was Lucien, leaning against the open door, arms crossed over his chest. He garbed Autumn Court colors, rouge and gold material complimenting his skin tone very well.

He was a prince charming, straight out of those fairy tale books — but he wasn’t here to sweep you off your feet.

Your eyes glanced over his form, and caught the glimmering shine of the golden band around his ring finger — it was his wedding day. The ache of the mating bond resonated in your chest, one that you had grown used to and didn’t often flinch from the pain, and you gave a tiny smile, one you hoped wasn’t laced with anguish and hurt.

You had to be happy.

Happy for his sake.

“I didn’t see you at the ceremony… Feyre said you were here in your room…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the taste of petals coating your tongue, “…I wasn’t feeling too well, I watched it from up here though. It was a beautiful wedding, Lucien… I’m, happy for you.”

And you were, you were happy for him but the small part of you, wanted that happiness to be with you.

But the Mother does not grant you wishes — never for you.

Lucien stepped into your room and you felt your back stiffen slightly, shifting so you were closer to the metal railing of your balcony. You watched those heterochromatic hues stare at you, sweeping over your form as if to find the illness he had heard so much about — that russet eye assessing your form as if he could see right into your soul.

All you wanted to do was turn around, avoid his gaze — just avoid him entirely like you have been doing for the past few years.

You couldn’t be near him… not anymore.

He didn’t seek you out often anymore, and so you did the same.

For your health.

You watched as he stepped passed the doorway, his boots echoing into your room and that’s what you focused on, how he grew closer and closer to you to the point where he stood in front of you — his woody scent intermixed with honey and jasmine, of Elain’s scent.

It made you nauseous that your world spun around, you pinched your eyes shut, reaching back to grab onto the railing so you wouldn’t fall to your death. Though death seemed to be a better option than confronting Lucien.

Hands gripped your upper arms, as if to still your wavering body and your senses were overwhelmed by his — his scent, his breath, the warmth that radiated from his hands and body to your own.

It has been too much.

Pressing your hands against his chest, you shoved him away, your breath quick and sweat lining your forehead.

“Don't touch me… Please…” you begged him.

You used to love being in his presence. During peaceful times, before Amarantha’s reign, before the curse… you would always seek each other out — whether it be just basking in each other’s presence, or talking about your day to one another — your eyes would always try to look for him. He would easily just hold your hand for comfort or you'd always be welcome in his arms.

Everything was so much simpler and easier — without the cursed illness that rages in your body.

It was easier to be around him without the mating bond that connected you to him.

But now, nothing was simple. You couldn't be next to him, have him touch you so easily without the bouts of nausea and pain that came with an incomplete mating bond.

You had been able to handle it, since he had sought Elain often when he visited the River House. You avoided everywhere they may have been — the gardens, her bedroom — basically everywhere in the River House, confining yourself to your room.

The only people that would check in on you were Feyre, Mor and Rhysand — all three were the only people that knew of your condition, of your illness… and your love for Lucien.

Taking in a deep breath, the smell of florals invading your system as you felt small bursts of pain in your chest — more flowers taking over your lungs.

Eyes looked at him and you blinked twice — making sure your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. Surprise and hurt etched onto his beautiful features, his eyes staring at you as if you've done a taboo.

“What… what's wrong, (Y/N)? Why are you so distant with me lately?” his voice was full of confusion and all you wanted was to yell and scream all the pain that had been caused by the incomplete bond — but you couldn't.

He didn't know. He wasn't the reason why you were decaying slowly, it was your illness. The stupid, wretched curse placed upon you by the Mother above.

You looked at him, with so much longing and love — you wanted to convey centuries of your love for him, but it has been too late.

He had chosen his Cauldron bound mate.

A pained smile tugged on your lips as you reached up and gently caressed the scars on the left side of his face, and you watched as he leaned close to your palm — your illness flaring in your chest, you flinching slightly from the pain.

“You haven't been putting on the ointment for your face, Lucien…” you muttered, trying to avoid the topic of anything relating to your distance, to your pain, to your unrequited love for him, “It had been looking good… I hope it isn't too painful…”

Lucien’s golden eye whirlled, trying to lock gaze with your own, trying to assess what was going on with you; but you avoided his gaze, focusing on how badly your hand was trembling near him.

“… I haven't had the time to put on the ointment, and besides that had been your job for the past few centuries…” a tiny smile tugged onto his lips.

You tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind his ear, feeling the soft lock between your fingers before you dropped your hand, gently grasping it in your other as if to stop the trembles, “You're right, it had been my job…But it looks like not anymore. Elain could do that for you… I'll—-” you swallowed the lump in your throat once more, the urge to cough up the flowers was strong.

“Lucien…”

The two looked back at your doorway to see her — Elain, dressed in white. You gave her a tight smile, glancing up at Lucien who’s facial features morphed from worry and confusion at you, to complete adoration and love for her.

Tears stung your eyes as you turned around, your back facing the two married couple.

“You should go Lucien… you're missing out on your reception…” your voice shook and you desperately hoped neither of them would notice.

You have to continue to be happy — for him.

“You should come with us, you don't have to be here alone…” his voice drifted with the wind.

Shaking your head, you looked over your shoulder at him and gave him a smile, “I’m content here…”

Hesitation tugged on his features but before he could say anymore, Elain gathered his attention and both of them slipped out of your room.

Your chest heaved and you slowly slid down to the ground, pressing you hands on those cold stone tiles and you heaved.

Heaved all the pain and anguished of a love that was never yours to begin with.

General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

[slytherin-pen]

The Nesting Fox

After five years of being mated, you and Lucien are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first litter. As you enter the seventh month of your pregnancy, Lucien returns home from his Emissary duties to find you meticulously rearranging the baby's room, consumed by the need to prepare the space for your growing family. Sensing your stress, Lucien takes it upon himself to ease your worries by drawing a warm bath for you and offering comforting words to soothe your nerves.

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 3.7k

all ACOTAR related credit goes to SJM

warnings: none/ fluff vibes only 🤍

A/N: i had writer’s block for a bit so i missed Elucien week but i started this with the theme in mind last week 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy fluffy future-dad Lucien

As the warm afternoon sun painted the cottage in a golden hue and gently streamed through the windows, you hustled about, checking off tasks from your never-ending to-do list. Your little kit wasn't due for another two months, but time seems to go too fast and too slow while pregnant. You know you have all the necessities and have their room prepared, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that there’s still more to do, leaving you restless.

Your best friend Mor has been taking you shopping for baby items and garments to replace your weekly pre-pregnancy coffee dates, and despite your complaints about the extra laundry, you do love spending time with her, however it may be. With your family living in the Night Court and you being heavily pregnant in the Spring Court, it’s easy to feel lonely, but Mor winnows in and catches up with you as if you never left. Aside from her visits, you keep busy preparing for the baby’s arrival by repeatedly cleaning and shuffling things around until it's just right.

Today's list of tasks includes organizing the new clothes in the baby’s dresser, dusting—a task that seems pointless in the Spring Court—and baking snickerdoodle muffins because the baby wants snickerdoodle muffins.

Lucien has had to remind you numerous times to take it easy. He frequently comes home to find you doing something you are not supposed to and swiftly ushers you to a chair. Pregnancy has not been the kindest to you, but you haven’t let it slow you down yet. You wouldn’t be his relentlessly energetic mate if you just sat around doing something mundane like knitting.

Before discovering you were pregnant, you and Lucien spent your days outdoors or traveling across Prythian and the Continent. You were far from being a passive couple. Besides, the basket storing away the yarn and needles became riddled with dust ages ago. It was a lovely gift from a Lord in the Day Court after your wedding ceremony inside the palace, but the longest you’ve sat still was when your previous High Lord, Rhysand, let you hold his son Nyx during a casual meeting in the River House. Babysitting Nyx occasionally has helped ease some of your worries about becoming a mother. Still, your mind was in a constant war between being confident in your abilities and thinking the absolute worst would happen and you would fail at being a mother.

Lucien has been your unwavering support during the most challenging days, helping you combat negative thoughts. He reminds you to breathe and trust that both of you will be loving, nurturing parents. You don’t know if it’s just everyday prenatal stress or the hormones making you an anxious, compulsive mess, but Lucien has remained his kind, witty, and ever-attentive self. He always knows what you need, whether you are cleaning the house inside-out until your feet swell or crying and raging about being out of sugar, and now ‘the baby will be sad.’ He bites down his retort about the baby's inability to conceptualize anything about the situation every time. Instead, he holds you, massages your feet, and goes to the shops as soon as they open.

When you first found out you were pregnant, it was after a trip to the Summer Court with Lucien as his plus-one on an emissary trip. The two of you had dined on shrimp and pasta among Tarquin and his courtiers. After dinner, Lucien attended a private meeting with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian while you returned to your shared suite. As you bathed and got ready for bed, you noticed you felt nauseous but thought you must have overindulged during dinner. You had just opened your nightly read when the urge to vomit was too strong to swallow down. You ran to the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left. Afterward, you brushed your teeth and requested a servant bring you a cup of ginger tea. You didn’t initially tell Lucien for fear he would fuss over you instead of focusing on why you were in the Summer Court. You had hoped an ingredient just didn’t settle well with your stomach and you would feel better shortly.

The trip lasted for three days, and as per Summer Court, every dish contained seafood. After each meal, you found yourself in the nearest bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten. Lucien became concerned, noticing that you would run off, but you assured him you were fine and that the spices were giving you an upset stomach. He gave you a skeptical look, not believing your excuse due to your frequent travels and exposure to various cuisines. Still, he accepted you were keeping your bathroom habits private, as any gentleman would.

When you touched down in the Spring Court, and Lucien ran off to meet with Tamlin, you found the nearest healer. Something was wrong. You loved seafood. Not every Summer Court dish is delicious, particularly the scallop omelet, but shrimp was one of your favorites, and you threw it up every time. The meals made you sick after you ate, and the smells began to nauseate you as soon as they appeared on the table.

You were shocked when the healer informed you nothing was wrong but that you were pregnant. Your mind became a torrent of different emotions: fear, excitement, hope, and more fear. You and Lucien had stopped taking contraceptive tonics years ago with the knowledge you could become pregnant, but something about it happening made you question everything. Were you ready for a baby? What if Lucien changed his mind and didn’t want children with you? Would you be a good mother? The internal turmoil had paralyzed you, rooting you to the ottoman before the fireplace. That’s how Lucien found you after he met with Tamlin, and he knelt by your side, asking you what was wrong. You hesitated initially, but Lucien whispered encouragement in your ear, and you eventually told him you were pregnant. His gold and russet eyes lit up joyfully and immediately soothed your worries. He assured you he still wanted children with you— lots of them, even–that you would be the best mother, and between his salary and both of your families, obtaining everything the baby would need would be no problem.

A few months into your pregnancy, you and Lucien went on ‘Tour De Baby,’ as he called it, celebrating the news with family and friends. The two of you attended a formal dinner with Tamlin, and Helion and Lady Autumn hosted a baby shower. Eris insisted on visiting him and the hounds so they could ‘learn the kit’s scent,’ and your family in the Inner Circle guided you and Lucien on a rare, non-alcoholic night out through Velaris. Seeing your families so excited to meet your little one made your heart swell with adoration and gratitude. Even if your family was spread across three courts, your baby has a formidable village of warriors and High Lords who loved them endlessly, and that was more than you could ever ask for.

The tantalizing scent of snickerdoodle muffins baking in the oven filled the cozy cottage as you set out to rearrange the baby's room. As you surveyed the room, you realized the crib was too close to the window. What if the moon's light wakes up the little one? You quickly decided to move it. Then, you noticed a framed picture precariously hanging above the changing table. You couldn't risk it falling and hurting the baby, so you made a mental note to relocate it as well. As you stepped back, you noticed that the dresser seemed slightly off-center, prompting you to adjust its position.

Lucien heard a distinct dragging sound across the wooden floor as he walked through the front door. Curious, he followed the noise and poked his head into the room. "Release the dresser immediately," he demanded, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly are you up to, my sly little fox?" A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed your blush.

“I was just tidying a few things up,” you replied sheepishly, putting the dresser back on the ground.

With a playful smirk, he hoisted the dresser and carefully set it in its new spot, perfectly aligned against the wall. Sauntering over to where you stood, he took hold of your hands and teased, "Is destroying our poor floors your idea of tidying up?”

You inhale sharply, glancing around the room and blinking back tears. “I just want everything to be perfect,” you whispered.

Lucien’s face softened with understanding as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm around your waist and cradling your head with the other. “I know, my love, but do you know what I want?”

“For your mother to send me her apple pie recipe?”

He chuckled before shaking his head. “I’m not opposed, but no. I want you to be healthy. I want our baby to be healthy. And then I want all of us to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The dam of tears you held back burst as you listened to your partner's sincere words. “I feel like there’s so much left to do. I know we have gotten so much done, but I can’t help but stress about what else we can do,” you whined.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps you subconsciously feel the more work you find, the more ready you will feel, but that is not how it works, unfortunately. We still have two months left, but I promise you we will be ready. You are ready. I have complete faith that you will be a natural once our kit is born. As for being physically ready, you’ve handled it all, my love. All that shopping with Mor and planning lists with Feyra paid off. I told you to leave some work for me,” he winked.

You snorted, smacking his chest lightly. “You’ve hardly let me do anything. You made me sit in that chair,” you pointed to the rocking chair in the corner, “while you built the crib, installed the bookshelf, and made me stay at Tamlin’s manor for two days while you painted the room.”

“Technically, it only took one day to paint and one more for the fumes to air out,” he quipped.

Before you could roll your eyes, the smell of burning cinnamon hit your nose. “Muffins!” You turned away from Lucien and waddled quickly towards the kitchen.

Lucien laughed as he followed after you. “I was wondering what sort of concoction you had brewing in there.”

“The baby asked for snickerdoodle muffins, and what kind of mother would I be to deny my child before they’ve even left the womb?”

“Ah yes, this telepathic connection between the two of you. Pray tell, what else does our little kit ask for,” he asked, leaning on his hands, watching you from across the island that separated you as you pulled the muffin pan out of the oven.

Placing the pan on the counter, you hummed before looking up at Lucien. “Well, since you’re asking,” you smiled deviously, “a nice warm bath complete with a massage. And chocolates.”

He licked his lips as he moved closer to you. “I can’t deny my child before they’ve left the womb, now can I? I shall run you a bath this instant.”

You giggled as he kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your belly before leaving the room. Staring at the muffins on the counter, you couldn’t resist eating one while they were fresh and steaming right in front of you. The crumbs of cinnamon and sugar crunched between your teeth as the bready muffin melted on your tongue, and an involuntary moan escaped you. Your baby may not be born yet, but they certainly have good taste in pastries.

“My love,” Lucien called. “I have a warm, lavender-scented bath ready for you.”

“Coming,” you mumbled, swallowing the last of the muffin before rounding the corner and trailing after Lucien.

As you walked through your bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom, you practically groaned in pleasure at the sight. Steam rose from the clawfoot tub, courtesy of Lucien’s heating powers, and bubbles covered the water's surface. You slipped off your clothes, and Lucien held your hand as you entered the tub. He quickly followed, chucking his clothes onto the floor next to yours.

You leaned back onto his chest as he sat behind you, thick, muscular thighs caging you in between them. “This is nice,” you sighed. The bubbles came up to your breastbone as your body slumped against his, but your bump protruded slightly out of the water's comforting warmth.

He hummed in agreement, grabbing a folded washcloth and submerging it in the water before gingerly running it across your arms. “It is the least you deserve,” he murmured. “I cannot thank you enough for carrying our child.”

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, Luc. I love you, and I love our baby. I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know you do,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I also know being pregnant is no easy feat. First, there was constant nausea and vomiting; now, it’s insomnia, swelling, and back pain. Not to mention the mental toll it takes on you, worrying day and night about what our baby will need, and as much as I hate that you’re so worried, your concern is how I’m sure you'll be a wonderful mother.”

“You can't know that,” you grumbled. “Preparing for it and living it is not the same thing.”

Lucien lathered shampoo in his hands and began to scrub your scalp. “Perhaps, but after believing Beron was my father for most of my life, maybe I’m just content in knowing we can love our child without that monster looming over us. Knowing I will never be like him and you, being an angel sent from the heavens, I think we’re quite set. All I ever wanted was for my future children to be safe, especially in their own home, and they will be.”

You sighed as he rinsed the soap out of your hair, one hand shielding your eyes from the suds. “That is a perspective I haven't considered. I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I only mentioned it because I want you to feel as content as I do. I don't want you spending your first pregnancy fretting over the little things when what's most important is that both of you are okay. We don't know what the future holds, and things could change in the blink of an eye, but in the meantime, I want us to love each other and enjoy ourselves while our kit gets ready for their debut.”

You intertwined your hands with his as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. You always know what to say to bring me back to Earth. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas. Starting with rearranging this house until labor forced you to stop, you stubborn female.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned further into Lucien’s chest. “The day can not come soon enough. My back might break if my stomach gets any bigger.”

Lucien chuckled as he caressed your bump with his large palm. Despite how huge you felt, his hand could still cover the top of your stomach, reminding you that you were, in fact, not actually the size of a mammoth. “I hate to tell you that our little fox is not done growing and will get bigger, but-” he leaned over your shoulder to kiss the bump, “I can assure you that you are unbreakable, my brave and resilient mate. Pregnancy is nothing compared to the battles you’ve overcome, but after this battle, we will be blessed with a precious baby in return, and they will be ours to cherish alone.”

You craned your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re going to have to share them every now and then, you know that right,” you teased.

A soft growl rumbled through his chest before he nipped at your nose, eliciting your squeal. “We don’t have to do anything. We could hide in the woods and live like cave dwellers. No one could make us leave.”

“Well, technically, Tamlin could, being High Lord and all.” You trailed off as he began to leave kisses along your neck.

Lucien hummed, the placement of his lips on your throat sending vibrations coursing straight through you. “I’d like to see him try. I do believe he owes me, coming back to help him repair his court and all,” he teases.

“Would he be grateful enough not to mind his Emissary and wife living in his woods like animals? We might scare the villagers.”

“Darling, if the villagers can’t handle two Fae harmlessly prancing about the woods, they are in the wrong court. Their High Lord turns into a beast, for cauldron's sake.”

You laughed, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing your thighs together lest you pee yourself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. My stupid pregnancy brain has me forgetting everything, including changing out my slippers for shoes before leaving the house. I was halfway to town before I realized.”

"Was that the day you asked me to go to the shops for more strawberry jam after you had said you were going to fetch it yourself," he chuckled.

“Yep,” you grimaced. “I had to turn around. That was a whole trip in itself. No way I was walking back to the shops.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I told you to take it easy, not run around town like a headless chicken.” You smacked his arm for referring to you as a chicken, and he kissed your cheek in apology. “I will handle the shopping from now on. You needn’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

“Oh, so now I have a head?”

“You’re a wicked thing when you want to be.” He rose from the tub, reaching for the towels before stepping onto the rug. “Come on out, love. The water is getting cold, and I still owe you a massage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” your eyes brightened as you took his hand and let him wrap you in a soft, fluffy towel.

You held hands as the two of you walked into your bedroom, cast in the warm glow of flickering candles. Lucien changed into sleep pants while you slipped on a silk nightgown. You sat down at your vanity, and before you could reach for your hairbrush, Lucien grabbed it. “Let me,” he murmured.

Smiling at him appreciatively over your shoulder, you nodded and closed your eyes as he gently brushed through your hair. He was careful to start at the ends with light strokes and work his way up to your roots, mindful of how fragile hair can be while wet. Starting at your hairline, he separated your hair into three sections and began to tie your hair into a french braid. It became your favorite way to style your hair for bed due to all the night sweats you’ve had during pregnancy. Sleeping while pregnant was still uncomfortable, but getting all your hair off your neck helped tremendously with not overheating at night.

“So beautiful,” Lucien whispered, trailing his fingertips down your arms. You made eye contact with him through the mirror and couldn’t stop the blush that crept upon your cheeks. “Let’s get you in bed now, my love.”

You let him lead you to the bed in the middle of the room and watched him pull back the covers. He sat down first, to your surprise, and patted the spot between his legs. You giggled but situated yourself between his thighs and pulled the covers up to your waist.

“First, the chocolate I promised.” He handed you a bowl of small rectangles of dark chocolate. You moaned and popped a piece into your mouth as you grabbed the bowl and placed it in your lap. “Now for that massage,” he leaned over to the side table and picked up the bottle of oil, shaking a few drops on the palm of his hand and rubbing them together. You pulled your braid over your shoulder and let the straps of your nightgown slip down enough for Lucien to access your back. “Where does it feel the most sore?”

“Along my spine and lower back,” you replied, chewing another piece of chocolate.

He hummed in acknowledgment and began to massage your back. Starting at the top of your spine, he ran his knuckles down your back, releasing the tension with his motions. He moved on to massaging circles into your lower back with his thumbs, and the pressure was heaven-sent in such a sore spot.

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling every ounce of love and care he put into relieving your pain. Your eyes remained shut, and you’d never admit that you may have dozed off a couple of times, only once or twice, with a piece of chocolate in your mouth.

After the massage, you leaned back onto his chest, placing the chocolates and oil back on the table, and he wrapped his arms around your bump to lift it. He dipped his chin down to your shoulder and kissed your neck softly. “Does that feel any better, darling?”

Exhaustion consuming you, you could only hum and nod. Lucien chuckled, turned off the flames with a snap, and shifted your bodies so that your head rested on his chest as he pulled you into his side. “Goodnight, my love,” he kissed your temple. “And goodnight, my little fox,” he splayed his hand on top of your bump and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles as you fell asleep.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 13: Dreams and Desires

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Azriel dreams of love and lust and then he finally dares to hope. Nyra's desires begin.

Warnings: not pure smut but still 18+, angst because we see baby Az and his mum, fluff, fluff, SHIRTLESS Azriel and the Truth Teller!

Word count: 9.1k (Enjoy!!)

A/N: @feerique thank you!! for waiting for weeks for this chapter and for giving me your heart in the comments as you reviewed it!! 💜✨✨

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel couldn’t believe it. Nyra was in his arms, looking up at him as if he’d brought the world to her feet. She was content with everything and he could feel her satisfaction through their bond. 

But this was a dream and he was a spectator living in his own head.

“Everything was wonderful today, wasn’t it?” Her voice was a gentle affirmation over some happy thing he did not know. 

“We had a very nice morning.” She looked at the collar of his shirt, biting her lip bashfully. Azriel wanted to tilt her chin and kiss her right there. One of her palms was situated over his chest, right where his heart rested beneath the shirt and his skin. Her fingers started tapping on his chest. 

“A good breakfast. Work finished early. And the dinner! Gods. Az, I didn’t realise how much I needed that dinner with you. It’s been a while since we went on a date.” 

Azriel felt his heart soar at her words. He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek. Nyra’s eyes closed and her answering smile was a bright thing filling him with more love and energy than he ever believed he would hold in his heart. 

The shadowsinger realised that he had never seen Nyra smile like that in real life. A smile so unrestrained and bright. There was always something that she carried and this Nyra in his dream was so free of everything, so happy. And she was happy in his presence, smiling at his kiss. 

“We will, my love.” He heard himself speaking. 

How did he even reach here? To the point where he could call her his love? And this slice of happiness that they were sharing right now—oh, what wouldn’t he do for her happiness.

“We'll go on many dates.” His kisses descended to the area beneath her ear. “Go to many places.” He pressed a featherlight kiss to the nape of her neck and she craned. “We’ll do a lot of things.” 

“Today was exceptional.” She turned around and led him by the hand to a door. 

A bedroom. 

Oh shit. 

Azriel had no experience with this. No experience with any sort of intimacy with her. He was a mere spectator in his own body as the words flew out of his mouth and this tender moment between them continued. 

He was surprised to find that it was not a room he was familiar with nor was the view from the window. He followed her inside and closed the door behind them. He looked around as if seeing the room for the first time. 

Their scent was all over it and he inhaled in delight. He also saw many personal effects ranging from clothing to weaponry. The bookshelves were filled. Papers were stuck on the wall. Portraits of the two of them. He swore he’d spotted a blue silk gown of hers lying on a chair. 

“Upset at not being able to rip it like you’d wanted?” Nyra teased. His eyes snapped back to meet hers. A mixture of mirth and lust danced around her as she turned to look at that gown. “I do like it. The colour, the fabric, the design—everything makes it too precious for it to be subjected to destruction.” 

Her left arm was crossed beneath her breasts while the other’s elbow rested on the wrist of the left. Her fingers played with the loose strands of her hair, her neck and Azriel was aching to taste her skin. 

“It does suit you well.” Azriel admitted. The onlooker in his head did not even remember Nyra’s blue gown. Was this something only the Azriel and Nyra in his dream shared? “And you continue to wear it, knowing what it does to me.” 

He blushed at his own words. This dream made him feel like a voyeur in his own life.

“Is it the gown that does it to you or is it me?” He had never heard that tone from her. Azriel learned that he was somehow always ready to kneel before her—for her.

“Always you. But the gown speeds things up.” Nyra laughed at that and Azriel felt his own mood lighten at being the cause of her joy. 

The last few minutes had so much happiness, so much love—the male he was before could have this much happiness and love over the span of weeks. And everything was with her—between them and gods, he was loving this dream. 

The sudden realisation that this was a dream brought him back to another fact that he was a mere spectator, watching this scene through the eyes of the Azriel who was here. The one who said the words he would never have the courage to say. 

Envy coursed through him, at how much the Azriel in the dream could freely be with Nyra, love her, touch her. And gods damned his fucking soul but if the talk about that blue silk had any truth in it, then this Azriel was definitely having the time of his life with this lovely female. 

“I’ll be a very happy male the day I tear that gown.” He declared. Nyra’s brows raised and she walked towards him and kissed his lips softly. 

Azriel wanted to close his eyes or at least look away. This was an intimate moment and he did not want to seem like a pervert indulging in voyeuristic tendencies but gods did he want more of her touch. More of her kisses. More of her.

“Not that gown, Az.” She pulled back and turned around with a hand holding the periwinkle skirts of the gown she was wearing. “Rip this one.” And she threw him a look he immediately classified as erotic, inviting him for a salacious night. “That is, if you can.” 

Azriel felt his soul darken at her challenge. He stalked forward, ready with the strength of a predator. His mate stood right where she was. She raised her hand for him to take and found herself flush against him as he kissed her, his other hand grabbing her chin with the palm resting on the side of her neck. 

He walked her backwards to where a table was. There was also a chair and Nyra’s legs would’ve hit it but Azriel had grabbed the obstacle and flung it to some other part of the room. His shadows caught the chair mid-air and set it down somewhere without any destruction to the room. 

And while the shadowsinger flung the chair elsewhere, his mate grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. Her hand came to where the shirt was beginning to cover him with its buttons and descended with enough force for the buttons to pop off. And with that, he felt the touch of her fingers through the planes of his chest to his abdomen.

“I thought you said I looked good in that shirt.” Azriel, the spectator, couldn’t believe that this was Nyra. 

“And you were taking too long to remove it.” She now had a view of Azriel’s bare chest even as he was wearing his shirt and blazer. She looked like she could not decide if she wanted him like this or in a state of complete undress.

“Patience is a virtue.” He chuckled. Azriel loved the way she looked at him. Like she wanted him.

“I’m anything but virtuous right now.” Her hand found its way to his pants as if to prove her point. Four of her fingers found its way inside his pants and his undershorts, and Azriel’s heart almost jumped up to his throat. He clenched his fists for some semblance of control. 

“Take off my belt, Nyra.” And her hand left him, trailing just a bit upwards with her nails. Nails he wanted to feel on his arms and back as she held him while he fucked her senseless. 

She moved forward, pressing her clothed breasts against his bare chest, feeling him breathe against her. Nyra kissed his lips softly before she whispered. “Make me.” 

Azriel woke up, sweating like he’d been subject to a heatwave. Despite the night being cooler than was normal for the season, he sweated enough to have the sheets dampen. The smell of his own sweat was a reminder of the dream he’d just woken from. 

Azriel was familiar with nightmares. He had a routine of escaping them by drowning in his work, late night training or maybe a night of sex. 

The last one was no longer an option. Maybe he should’ve never bedded anyone, ever. Yes, that would’ve been a wise choice. But the past couldn’t be rewritten and so for now, he’d be celibate until marriage. 

Azriel knew he was hard and it was pain and pleasure and such sweet pain he dared not touch it. Mother curse him, Nyra was simply existing in one of the rooms in the House of Wind, completely minding her own business, dealing with her own trauma, probably sleeping since it was so late. She probably saw him as a friend at best and an acquaintance at worst and he was already dreaming of a life with her. 

A life where he’d go on a dinner date with her, retire to the privacy of their rooms, kiss her for her smiles and indulge in his desires with her. 

That dream which showed the possibility of a life with her—that was the sort of dream people look up at the night sky and wish for. The sort of dreams that one would wish for in the most desperate of moments. 

He remembered a conversation with his mother the day his hands were burned. The sweet female that she was, his mother told him something he kept in his heart for all this time. 

A female held her son so close to her, so afraid of letting him go. The flames had hurt her son’s hands. He couldn’t even hug his mother back with how much his hands were hurting. 

Rain poured that night, heavy and cold. She saw herself in the rain and thanked whatever power that made the clouds weep. The rain had begun falling just as his hands had started burning and was the only reason why there was still a chance his hands would remain functional. 

And even though it rained outside their small, dirty cottage, the female could not stop crying. As a mother, she wanted to be strong for her son but what could she do? 

She was weak and that was her reality. So weak that she couldn’t even keep her son with her. So weak she couldn’t stop him from being imprisoned from the day he’d been taken from her as a toddler. 

She should’ve fled the camp but she’d been worried about how they’d treat a female and babe with no male protection. But her poor son, her darling son, this wonderful boy she’d been blessed with. Perhaps the only blessing she’d ever received in this world and the only one she’ll ever have. 

She couldn’t go with this again. She’d go to Windhaven the next time the High Lord’s visit was due. She was once a friend of the female who was now the Lady of the Night. She’d beg for her son’s freedom if need be. But as she felt the tremors of her son who sobbed in her arms, her newfound determination and strength faltered. 

“Will it always be like this?” Azriel’s voice was so small, so unpractised in conversation. 

“No.” That was the only thing she’d wanted for him. For his life to not remain like this. She didn’t know if it could be better or to what extent it could be better but his life had to be outside that damned cell. “It won’t be like this. You’ll be out in the world, flying. My boy will be strong.” 

His mother hoped that the mandatory training for the Illyrians would bring him freedom. War was coming soon and there could never be too many soldiers now. Not with the High Lord’s own son approaching the age of training and whispers of whether the Heir would come to Illyria to train. 

“And you’ll have a family of your own and-”

“Please don’t leave me.” Azriel begged, fat tears flowing down his cheeks. “Please. Please. Please. Please.” He’d thought that a new family of his own meant that his mother would be far away. “Please don’t go.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, my boy.” She kissed his forehead. “I’m here for you. Always.” 

“I don’t want a new family.” Azriel sobbed and hiccuped and it was agony not being able to hold his mother or to even clench his own fists. “I only want to live with you.” 

“Soon, Azriel. What I meant was that we will have a new family.” 

“We?” Azriel peered up at his mother, vision still blurred by his own tears.

“Yes. You, me and the one you love.” His mother sounded hopeful and hopeless at the same time. “And all three of us will be a family together.” 

Azriel’s mother had meant to explain romantic love to her son. That she’d prayed for every single day of her life that he’d meet someone good and kind and wonderful and that person would love her son and that her son would love that person and they’d have a happy life together whether or not she’d live long to see that. He knew that now because this conversation had been revisited a few times after he entered adulthood. 

His mother had harboured reservations against the mating bond due to how bad it had turned out for her and for many others around her with the former Lady of the Night being the only exception but even then, that wasn’t a legendary romance. It wasn’t until Rhysand himself visited her for her blessings that she felt a little good about it but even then Feyre had yet to meet his mother. 

Azriel supposed he was lucky. He was the only one in the Inner Circle with a living parent who was good and kind and so much more. And now, Rhys was the first one in the Inner Circle to have a family of his own with Feyre. And Azriel had the mating bond with Nyra and he wondered and hoped and prayed so badly that he could have something with her. 

Something. 

Anything. 

He would be content with friendship even if she fell in love with another. No matter how much it would kill him. 

Liar! The shadows hissed and continued to chant it. 

Of course, he was a liar.

A liar because the thought of another male near her making her smile and laugh. Another male kissing her, naked with her. Nyra’s eyes half closed in desire, her hair untied and curls free, completely disrobed as her shoulders and curves for that faceless bastard. . .

The Truth Teller landed on the bookshelf with a thump. The force behind his favourite dagger had caused a long crack on the side of the shelf.  The wooden structure would probably fall if he took the dagger off. 

The dream triumphed over him again. 

And now he was imagining things rather vividly. Images of loving her. Of going to places with her. Kissing her and making her smile so brightly. To rip that gown and make her take off his belt. . .

He needed to get up. He needed a good release, some late night training but his aching cock reminded him how much he needed another kind of release.  

****

Nyra woke up from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night. She found herself in an unfamiliar place but it took time for her to process everything that had happened and realise that this was her bedroom in the House of Wind. 

There were a few notes on the bedside table. She guessed that Nesta might’ve written one of them but what about the others? The first note she picked up had Nesta’s name on display. She unfolded it and read its contents. 

You became angry at the mention of Hybern and lost control of your power. No one and nothing was harmed. Azriel brought you to bed. I accompanied him. 

The two of you disappeared into his shadows right before you completely lost control and when he brought you back, you had fainted from exhaustion. 

Food is on the study table if you need some. Your nightdress is on the chair should you feel the need to change.

Rest well.

Nyra found the food and the nightdress. She decided to reread the note in the morning and then meet Azriel to talk to him about whatever happened in the shadows. She was starting to recollect some things but it was mostly her own power trying to release itself. 

She took the next note with Azriel’s name and unfolded it. 

We can talk about what happened in the shadows over some chocolate cake. After all, I did lure you into attending dinner and you did not even get your reward. I’ll meet you after your lessons with Amren. 

Azriel.

Nyra read and reread that note. Azriel’s handwriting was cursive and therefore a little difficult to comprehend since she was seeing it for the first time. The letters that were supposed to be capital letters were small ones written in a bigger size. The Ys looked like they had a tail, the small Ds and Bs had feather-like extensions. The only crinkle on the note was in the middle from where it had been folded. Very fancy handwriting indeed.

There was another note with no name. She took it and opened it. 

Hey! I just wanted to know if you were okay. If you need anything, we’re here. 

Nyra frowned upon seeing no name. She looked at the entire page and then flipped it and there was still nothing to identify its writer. The handwriting was an unfamiliar one and rather bad according to her standards. Nyra looked around and rose from bed, heading over to the table where Amren’s books were neatly stacked. A little note was on top of it. 

Read. 

-Amren.

Nyra took the first book and opened it. She skinned through the pages and then closed it. A lidded bowl was placed next to the books with cutlery wrapped in a napkin. It was a bowl of hot soup and the steam carried its aroma. She closed it and looked at the nightdress on the chair—a thin, white thing. She had to change. 

She removed her dress where she stood and removed her undergarments and quickly put on the nightdress. She found a full length robe in the wardrobe which was more extravagant than practical with the silk and lace but at least, it reached the floor and was full sleeved. 

The first book was a general introduction to magic. She read that rather easily and quickly. The next was on types and uses. 

And hours passed. She’d woken up at eleven at night and it was now nearly four. She’d finished three out of five books and had had that soup at some point.

A yawn escaped her and she stood up to stretch her arms and twist her body. Nyra looked around and decided to sleep. In response to her wishes, the magic of the House turned off the lights and that was when she noticed the shadow outside her door. It was prominent due to the lighting outside her room. 

The lights turned on again and she finally noticed the wisps of darkness creeping in from under the door. She walked over and opened the door. Azriel stood there, his hand in a fist as if he was going to knock, his eyes widening as he met her gaze.

“I. . .” He swallowed. Azriel saw her, what she was wearing and the way her hair was untied. The warm light seemed to accentuate her features—the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, those lips he’d only kissed in that dream.

And that robe that was wrapped around her frame only because Nyra held on to it like that. She hadn’t tied it and had opted to simply hold it tight against herself. The way her breasts moved with every step as she walked out of that door and he realised that she was probably not wearing her undergarments. At least not her bra. 

He made all of these observations within the first second and by the next, he was looking at her face, desperate to kiss her after the dream he’d just had. He needed her touch. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asked and exhaled deeply.

Nyra looked at him not knowing why he looked so nervous. Was there something on her face? “I’m fine. I think. Are you alright? You look rather. . . flushed.”

Azriel felt the warmth in his body increase. He looked to the ground, suddenly shy and Nyra had no way of knowing that this incredibly beautiful male could be so enchantingly adorable. 

“What happened?” She asked softly. “Do you have a fever?”

Azriel looked at her. Oh fuck, he looked bad enough that she was worried for a fever. “Why are you worrying for me when you’re the one who’s been awake for hours?” 

“I have no reason not to be worried for you. And have you not been awake for hours with the way you’re dressed? Did you come back from somewhere?” Nyra replied. “And how long have you been standing outside my room?”

“I’ve been awake. . . for some time. I was training.” He mumbled, averting his gaze once again. He did feel rather warm at her worry for him. “It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve been outside your door.” 

Ninety two minutes. The shadows whispered mockingly. 

“Do you want to come in?” Her invitation was an innocent one but the one Azriel did not trust was his own self. 

He’d had a partially erotic dream about her and had woken up with a very hard cock that seemed to have an issue calming down. He’d been forced to take care of it and it seemed to have a mind of its own and with a very clear obsession. And now that he knew that Nyra was in her nightdress with that pathetically thin robe and no underwear, he couldn’t trust himself around her in a bedroom of all places. 

“No, thank you.” Azriel was mortified by the way he spoke. Did his desire reveal itself through his voice or did he sound pathetic? “It’s late. We need our sleep.” 

And he’d scare her if he said he wanted to sleep with her. Wanted to know her skin and the feel of it against his own. He wanted to be deep within her, her bare breasts against his chest as he pounded deep and hard into her. To suck on her neck and have her lose her mind enough to make her cling to him as he pleasured her. 

He wanted to tell her that he was attracted to her. That he liked her. That he loved talking to her when she was a human and that he missed those talks. The way she showed interest in this world and how she’d eagerly listen to his stories of Velaris and his life. The stories she told him about the human lands. The scare he got when she coughed blood in front of him as a weakened mortal. 

She was weakened. She was not born weak. The shadows raged. She was harmed. 

Azriel knew his shadows had stalked her like the creepiest of beings and had been dead set on obtaining every morsel of information on Nyra that existed. They’d found the old cottage where they lived, the ruins of their former estate where the sisters spent their childhood, and investigated every corner. 

The bed has answers. The shadows whispered. Let us investigate. The bed on which she was born. Azriel knew exactly what the shadows were talking about. They were psychometric like that but some of their abilities required his express consent. And that is precisely what he granted. 

Meanwhile, Nyra looked at Azriel who wore his leathers, the weapons strapped to different parts of his body revealed that much. But god knew why he was training in the middle of the night. He was behaving rather oddly. He was staring at her face. 

“Is there something on my face?” Nyra touched her cheek and frowned. 

“No. Why’d you ask?” Yes, your face is beautiful. I want to hold it and kiss it. Please don’t frown. He couldn’t say any of that.

“You’ve been staring at me for so long.”

“I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable” Azriel looked away. 

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Nyra quickly spoke. Azriel was rather shy right now and it was new to her. It was different from the male who visited their estate late at night to tell them stories of the fae. But Azriel was still Azriel. He was. . . divine. “I thought I had food or something else on my face.” 

“Your face is. . . fine.” It was a struggle not to compliment her face. That adorable face. She was a dainty being compared to his powerfully built self even when she was taller than most females. And she looked so inviting in a homely sense, ready for bed with that nightdress and hair down and the dim lights. 

And he wanted to be with her. 

From the moment he first held her, he wanted her in his arms all day, everyday. 

But he had to focus on the conversation right now. She’d said something about food on her face. “That means you’ve had the food?” 

“Yes?” She looked at him, pleasantly surprised that he’d made that observation. 

“You mentioned you couldn’t sleep.”

She simply nodded, her gaze now far away. 

“If you need anything—a tonic, or a healer or someone to talk-”

“That’s the thing.” She whispered, a pained look haunting her eyes. She was looking to his left. Maybe at his siphon. “I don’t know what I need.” 

“What do you feel?” Azriel focused on the bond and found it beginning to close but with whatever was still open, he took a peak. The storms in her mind had grown. 

“Why do you keep asking so many questions?” Nyra looked at him defensively. He could feel the power of her mind, her storms and felt her walls build up more.

“Because I do not wish for you to remain where you are right now.” He hoped he was saying the right thing. If not the right thing, then he did not want to make it worse. 

“I’m here. In your city. In your home. I’m no longer. . . at liberty to return to my own. I am stuck here.”

Azriel decided to pretend that her words did not break him and continue this. To provoke her so that she’d talk. It was the only thing he knew how to do. To make people talk. This would help her acknowledge. Talking out loud could be a step to acceptance. 

“I don’t know if I’ve gained anything and I’ve lost everything.” She was trying to control her tears. “Nesta feels like she’s in the middle of a war and everything about Elain feels like she’s ready to float away into nothingness.” And the tears began falling. “I. . . I don’t. . There’s so much and. . . So much information and everything is jumbled and all over the place and I don’t even know if. . . And there was so much miasma in the Cauldron—it was so unbreathable and. . .” 

Azriel walked forward and laid a hand on her cheek and wrapped another around her middle and rested it on her back. There was one duty he had right now—to help her through this. 

His instincts roared at him to care and he was more than ready to do that. The shadows gently caressed her, taking away the strands of hair on her face. And Nyra still held her robe tightly even as he was now closer. 

“Why are you here?” Azriel knew she would ask this question. She would probably never stop asking this question. 

“Because I want to be.” He answered. This is where I want to be—with you. You are who I want to take care of.

Because there was no lie in that. His desires aside, he’d been waiting for his mate solely because he wanted to take care of her. He didn’t know what species or what sex or when his mate would be reborn. He just knew that the next time she was in the same realm as him, he wanted to take care of her. 

Even when he did not know for sure that there could be any form of attraction between them, he only wanted this. For five centuries, the only thing he clung onto was his wish to take care of his mate. And he’d be damned if he let something like sexual attraction cloud his mind while she was confused and upset. 

Not that he was denying that he wasn’t attracted to her. He was. Nyra was a beautiful female as a human. He’d noted that. She was a female unlike any other. And when she became fae, it became a struggle to be in her presence so that he wouldn’t fall to his knees in front of her just like that. And not even twenty four hours had passed since she woke up.

But the one thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to take care of her. And he would do that no matter what. Her tears had cleared his mind and there was a purpose now—to nurture and protect.

Nyra pulled back from the hug, eyes still tearful and cheeks redder and puffier. He wiped the tears on her cheeks and released her from his touch. She could do nothing but watch as Azriel and his gentle behaviour reached something within her. She wanted this. More of his softness. But her mind was too disoriented at the moment to ponder more on that.

“Go to sleep. Alright? No reading books or convincing yourself that you’d sleep after one more chapter. Hm? We’ll have that chocolate cake tomorrow. I’ll meet you after your lessons for Amren.” 

Nyra nodded at him and yawned. She covered her mouth with a hand and then looked at him again with that sleepy face. “Good night.” She waved her hand. “Go to sleep, Az. You need it just as much as I do. If not more.”

“Good night.” And the door closed and was locked. The lights went off and Azriel could hear her breathing as it slowly evened into a slow melody. 

Azriel walked away. He went to his room, tapped his siphon to remove his leathers and wore the sweatpants and settled in for sleep. It was easy. He thought of her. The progress both of them had made and soon, he fell asleep. The shadows remained quiet, letting their master sleep, even with all the things they were planning to investigate. There was much to uncover and a few of them slithered away into the night to begin their task.

****

Morning brought clarity and doubt. Nyra remembered so many things now. Her own memories from the earliest days of her life including her life as a babe. Her memories from other lives that were scattered like sheets of paper stacked in dusty piles, ready to fall down and make a mess. She had to sort through all of them. 

She looked at her hands. The right hand had the tattoo after her bargain with Rhysand. The left was, well… Her scar remained but it had become a bit faint. Just a bit. She remembered her own insistence that it remain as her body was weaved inside the Cauldron. 

And she remembered Azriel’s voice telling her to let it all out as her power roared like an untamed beast within her. The darkness that had surrounded them and him holding her. All that pain and relief as the storm within her was unleashed. Lightning followed thunder and so did the shadows and winds.

Nyra remembered hearing a very soothing sound. She remembered trying to focus on it and eventually telling him how tired he was. He did say something after that but Nyra was far too close to sleep at that point to be able to remember right now what he said. 

The memory of Azriel holding her felt too intimate. And she’d touched his chest and grabbed his shirt. She felt his touch on her head and waist—how she had leaned on to his chest as she caught her breath. And that soothing sound was so clear at that moment. It finally felt like she could breathe. 

And when he’d visited her not more than a couple of hours ago, Nyra remembered her own nervousness. Things had changed between them since she became fae. Whatever friendship they’d forged while she was still human was now a forgotten painting in the background. Now, it was as if they were familiar and yet so distant with one another. And she did not like that.

Azriel was her first friend outside her little circle which comprised only of her sisters. He was the first person unrelated by blood who had begun to inch closer to her circle. And suddenly, he was no longer there. 

These thoughts continued to haunt Nyra as she bathed and dressed for the day. The mirror kept showing her a resplendent female, brimming with health. But her mind began whispering of the broken, wretched woman she was. The scar on her left palm reminded her of the past she had attempted to bury. Would things be better if she accepted this? A life as a fae? The future of an immortal?

Nyra exited her room and saw Nesta and Feyre engrossed in a very serious conversation. 

“We shall resume later.” Nesta declared in a low voice, allowing no room for opposition and walked towards Nyra, followed by Feyre. 

“I take it you did not rest well.” Nesta was still walking over and when she finally reached her, she cupped Nyra’s face and examined her. 

“Did you have soup?” Feyre asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Nyra took Nesta’s hands and removed them from her cheek but continued to hold them. She was supposed to be mad at Nesta for not properly addressing things between her and Feyre but the way the two of them were fussing over her first thing in the morning did calm the skies in her mind. 

“I had the soup. It was delicious.” She looked at Feyre. Nyra didn’t have it within her to smile but she hoped her expression was appreciative enough. “Thank you.” She added for good measure. 

“I read the notes. Yours.” She turned to Nesta. “Azriel’s. Amren’s. And an anonymous one.” 

“That was me.” Feyre smiled sheepishly. 

“Write your name the next time so that I know it’s you.” Nyra watched her beam with a smile. Truly, her youngest sister looked radiant like the brightest star. 

Nyra noted that Feyre looked happy. She was happy. So carefree. Like the wind was blowing and Feyre only needed to enjoy the pleasant breeze on her cheek than worry about any worn out clothing on her back. And despite not being able to recognise her, Nyra did feel relief. Feyre had no more responsibility to provide for the family. 

“This is good.” She took Feyre’s hands in her own and the latter knew that Nyra was not talking about dresses or pants. Nyra felt something warm and cosy rising within her. Feyre was starting to be recognisable. 

Nyra lifted a hand to touch her sister’s cheek. “You’ve done so well, my dear. Thank you for everything.” 

Feyre inhaled sharply, tears pooling in her eyes but she craned her face upwards and shut her eyes tightly to prevent the tears. Nyra felt like she shouldn’t hug Feyre. As if the tears she was trying to control would fall if she did hug her. And if Feyre did not want to cry, then Nyra was not going to make her. 

“The two of you should wear pants.” Feyre breathed. “Amren’s flat is in the city. Pants are more practical for flight.”

Nesta turned her body to look at Feyre, her coldness melting into nothing. “What’s a flat?” 

Feyre blinked and then let out an awkward laugh. “A flat is a residence in a building. A building usually has multiple flats. You’ll get a better understanding once you visit Amren.”

“Flight?” Nyra was confused. 

“You’ll be flying to reach Amren.” Feyre smiled brightly. “Cassian and Azriel will take you.”

“And how will we fly?”

“They’ll carry you.” Feyre looked a little lost. 

Nesta’s spine straightened at the mention of being carried. She would choose Azriel unless he walked over to Nyra. She had no interest in being touched by Cassian lest she combust from the contact alone. Nesta could barely breathe in his presence. Concentration was something else she lost in his vicinity. Nesta hoped Nyra would be fine with Cassian. They seemed to be normal around each other. As normal as could be considering the present circumstance. 

“Pants. Alright.” Nyra’s voice brought Nesta back to the present, away from her own head. She looked at Nyra, appreciating that effect she had on her. “We need to wear pants.” 

The sisters went into the rooms, scoured the wardrobes, found appropriate clothing and wore them. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Nyra turned and looked at the mirror, seeing how nicely the pants fit her and how cosily the fabric rested from behind. “And this won’t be too improper or anything?” 

“I’m wearing pants.” Feyre pointed towards her own pair of brown pants and twirled once. 

“You’re used to life here. We’re not.” Nesta gave that reminder. The twins were still unsure. They were not used to something that showed the shape of their legs no matter how much they liked how the pants looked on them. 

“If you’re uncomfortable with it, you can still change.” Feyre offered. Nyra knew there were enough gowns for her to wear each day of the month without repeating any of them. But she couldn’t stop admiring herself and how good she looked in these clothes. Especially the behind. Nyra could not stop admiring her legs. 

“Yes, your legs look particularly good.” Feyre teased. A thought popped up. She immediately connected with Rhys over their bond and simply told him to bring Azriel and Cassian for breakfast no matter what. “Now, I’m hungry. If you are comfortable with your outfit, shall we have breakfast?” 

The three Archerons exited the room and then stopped outside Elain’s room. When the door remained unanswered after they’d knocked and waited, they finally went inside. Elain was sleeping unexpectedly peacefully. They decided not to disturb her and moved ahead. 

As they descended the stairs, they discussed Amren’s books. Nesta had also been given the same set of books which she found in her room after dinner. She read it through the night and now, the sisters were discussing its contents. 

“It’s all theory.” Nesta explained to Feyre. “Books on history, introduction, types. Mostly the classifications according to Courts and the other types for daily use. Then there was combat magic with a brief mention of the Illyrians’ killing power.” 

“That section had less information compared to what Azriel already told us.” Nyra recalled. 

“Azriel told you?” Feyre was now curious like a cat. Rhys had just informed her that he’d told Azriel and Cassian to come to breakfast. Or he’d drag them anyway. 

“He did frequent us when we were still humans.” Nyra sounded upset. “And he told us a lot and we told him a lot.” 

“Good morning! Oooh! The pants look good.” Morrigan’s cheerful voice was far too loud. Nesta nodded at her once and then headed towards the dining table, ignoring Rhysand’s curious eyes as she searched for something. She finally found it and took a mug full of it for herself. One sip and she found herself at peace. 

“Had your coffee?” Nyra’s voice came from behind. Morrigan had caught hold of Nyra’s free arm and led her and Feyre to the dining table with much enthusiasm. 

“So that’s what you were looking for.” Rhysand noted, a little amused. 

“Yes.” Nesta looked at both of them in turn. She then took another sip and felt some sense of peace within her. “I feel like a new woman.” Nesta looked at the coffee as she remembered that she was in fact a new woman after becoming fae. A new female. She did not understand how to deal with that.

“Have a croissant, Nesta Archeron.” And Rhysand was now walking towards them. He took a stop to pick up a plate and a croissant and then walked ahead. He extended the plate to Nesta who looked at him questioningly but took it from his hand. She found a seat, set her mug and plate on the table, broke a piece of it and dipped it into the coffee. 

Nyra watched the odd interaction between her twin and Rhysand. She was sure that the two of them did not like each other and would only be civil for everybody else’s sake but this was not mere civility. Nyra looked at Feyre who was equally shocked at this behaviour from both of them. Even more shocked when Nesta thanked him for the croissant. 

“Fancy some coffee, Nyra?” Rhysand turned to her with an easy smile. 

“Or some wine? You missed a few good bottles last night.” Morrigan was far too excited this early in the morning. “The two of you definitely need wine if you’re going to Amren’s for lessons.”

Feyre simply let go of Nyra’s arm and went to a side of the table from where she produced a mug. It was a hot beverage but it was not coffee. “Here.” And she extended it to Nyra who recognised the aroma after ages. 

“Hot chocolate?” Mor looked confused but by then, Nyra had taken a sip and sighed in content. She hugged Feyre from the side and then turned to Mor. 

“It’s far too good.” And then she turned to Rhysand. “Superior to coffee.” 

“Nothing is superior to coffee.” Rhysand declared. 

“It breathes life into the body.” Nesta’s words had them all surprised. Not only was she siding with Rhys but the High Lord seemed pleased by her answer. 

“This would be good with chocolate spread too.” And Nesta stood up, searching the long table for that. A bowl with the same flew over to her, carried by night. It was settled right in front of her croissant and she looked up at Rhys and offered him an awkward word of gratitude. 

“I find good wine to be an elixir for the soul.” Mor declared. 

“Will you be saving some space in your stomach for anything other than this elixir? A healthy breakfast, perhaps?” Nyra asked, looking rather amused. Mor smiled brightly, took her arm and brought her to the table where a good array of breakfast foods were served. 

“With all of this, I most certainly will.” Mor set her wine glass on the table and grabbed three plates, before handing one to Nyra and Feyre. “Take a round and pick your pick.” And Mor led the way as three females circled the table, chose their foods and finally sat down. 

“How’s Elain?” Mor asked, genuinely worried. 

Nesta looked up at that question, took a sip of her coffee and finally answered the question. “Asleep with no nightmares.” 

“You should sleep at night, Nesta.” Mor spoke seriously. 

Nesta glared at her as an indication to be quiet. 

“You purposefully kept yourself awake to escape your own nightmares and ensure you’d be there if they had any.” Nesta believed that Mor had a death wish with the way she wouldn’t stop speaking.

“Wait. What?” Nyra turned to her and then looked at Mor and then at Feyre. Everyone knew that this revelation before Nyra had been purposefully made because she was the only one Nesta would ever listen to. Nyra marched over to Nesta and sat next to her and just as she was about to start lecturing, they heard Cassian’s voice from the doorway. 

“Who has nightmares?” The general asked as he sauntered into the room, half naked and sweaty. Nesta stared into her coffee mug, absolutely determined not to look at Cassian or even contemplate how delicious he looked. 

“Nesta.” Rhys answered, frowning at Cassian. Something other than coffee seemed to be breathing life into her twin’s body and Nyra knew she’d have the time of her life teasing Nesta about this. 

But all that mirth seemed to dissipate into thin air as Azriel walked in, shirtless and equally sweaty, with the Truth Teller spinning between his fingers. His chest seemed to be a work of art with his sweat providing it with an additional layer that had Nyra’s mind blank within the next second. 

With his black curly hair sticking to his face at the side, the shadowsinger walked in oozing raw power and a level of satisfaction he had only after a good spar. 

He had a light beard and the more Nyra looked at him, the more she felt something in her stomach. Did she eat something bad? But she had yet to have breakfast and even then that tingling feeling in her stomach rose. Her breasts felt warm and heavier and she did not understand this at all. Was this some effect shadowsingers had on the people around them?

And Nyra did not know where to look. His very umm. . . nice chest? With all those muscles and uh. . . . A little hairline that disappeared into his pants? Nyra knew she had to look away from his unreasonably attractive chest and the pants and. . . oh gods, she was also wearing pants today. But his muscles seemed to be such a delicacy. She wondered whether she could take a bite and. . . no. She had to breathe and be normal. 

Nothing wrong with Azriel and the lack of a shirt. Except, it was the first time she’d seen someone without a shirt because Cassian walking in ten seconds earlier clearly slipped from her mind. And Azriel already had a very beautiful face—the kind of face you’d imagine for the male leads in historical romances. So swoon worthy that the ladies would have to fan themselves constantly lest they faint from the heat upon watching him.

Nyra took a sip of her hot chocolate, effectively hiding her face behind it for all of seven seconds before she had to put the mug down for appearance’s sake.

There was something strong in the air and it became stronger as Azriel walked towards the table. Nyra slowly realised that the smell of Nesta’s coffee, Mor’s wine and her own hot chocolate had somehow parted the way for something. . . woody? She had yet to identify it but this was not the scent of any of the foods or drinks on the table. She began focusing on people. Nesta smelled like snow touched by the sun. Feyre was like water from a stream. But this scent was cold. What was it? 

And Nyra was transported back to a time when she and Nesta snuck out to the lake near their estate back when they were seven. It was a misty night and they held each other’s hands. Nyra held a lantern for the way and Nesta held a stick. They realised far too late that they had neared the lake until Nyra took a step and they heard the water beneath her foot. They had wanted to see the stars but the mist was too thick. And Nyra loved it. She loved the lake situated in the middle of the woods. 

And that was the scent she recalled as Azriel walked in. And just as she realised it, Nyra tried to look away only to notice something else.

His hand—what was his hand doing and why was it doing that? Why was it playing with the Truth Teller like it was just a stick or something? She could rotate a pen in her hand like that but that was a bloody dagger. A dagger darker than the shadows, crafted from something greater. She could feel its power and how it submitted to the one who was effortlessly playing with it and what did she want with these thoughts? And his fingerless gloves with the siphon at the back of it. . . 

Azriel’s face was probably the most lethal feature at the moment because this male’s face was something else entirely. Thick well-shaped eyebrows, a beautiful nose, and lips and that tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked around with a plate for whatever he wanted for breakfast. And Nyra inhaled sharply when something tugged at her wrists. 

Somewhere between looking—it was only looking, she had only seen him, it was not like she’d observed him too closely, no, no, no. Anyway, the shadows had already approached her and had secured themselves around her wrists. 

Nyra looked at them and her thoughts about Azriel poofed away. She felt all her being soften for these wonderful little darlings. The shadows danced around her hands and the moment they became ticklish, she let out a laugh. The shadows seemed to take that laugh as encouragement and continued to tickle her. “Stop it.” She couldn’t stop laughing but it did end when the shadows retreated. 

Nyra watched as the wonderful beings floated back to their master, realising that Azriel commanded them to retreat after she’d told them to stop. Azriel was watching her and his lips spread into a grin. Nyra suddenly felt a jolt of joy within her and she grinned back. 

“Read your books?” The shadowsinger took a seat in all his bare-chested glory, finding a pear and taking a bite. The shadows poured him something she did not notice.

“Do they tell you about all that?” She spared a glance at the shadows and then returned her gaze to his. . . eyes. Of course, she was looking at his eyes. Not at his. . . the rest of his phenomenally statuesque body that she suddenly started having unspeakable thoughts about. 

“That they do.” Azriel nodded. He had been surprised at seeing a wall blocking the bond from her side but Nyra this morning was somewhat of an open book. 

“Are you spying on me?” Nyra asked playfully and Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. Not much of an open book, it seemed. 

“They waited outside your bedroom. They’re worried after last night.” For someone who was the Spymaster, he was openly revealing how he spied on her. Or how the shadows spied on her. Rhysand watched with a smirk hidden behind his glass of juice. Feyre hit his leg before telling him mind to mind to control his expressions. 

“You waited outside my bedroom last night” The words escaped her before she could even think and once it did, she felt free and she wanted to feel like that. Nyra raised her eyebrows and smirked like a cat. Azriel choked on his beverage, not at all expecting Nyra to be flirtatious first thing in the morning. This female was never predictable. 

By then, Nesta slid a plate towards Nyra, filled with toast and eggs. A bowl of fruits soon followed and so did Nesta’s piercing glare. “Eat.” 

Nyra knew Nesta was probably horrified at her recent comment at Azriel. “Yes, mum.” She began with the fruits, enjoying all that she previously could not.

“Don’t ever call me that.” Nesta glared at her, taking a sip of her coffee to calm herself. 

“All right.” Nyra had another piece of melon. “Mum.” At that, another plate of toast was slammed in front of her. 

“Have a variety, my dear.” There was something wicked in Nesta’s voice. And Nyra knew that her perceptive twin had probably noticed her after Azriel had entered. “You need not worry about a strict diet from now on anyway.” Nesta grinned impishly. Nyra faltered, feeling like a child wary of her mother’s scolding if she did not comply. “Eat till you’re full.”

Nyra did eat. Conversation floated with Mor from Nyra’s right telling them about Amren and how cranky the old witch was and how she might end up threatening to drink their blood for lunch. The old story of Rhys and his failed flirtation with Amren came up. 

“I just remembered.” And Nyra turned to Azriel. “We need to talk about last night.” 

Nesta spat her coffee to the side and looked between the two of them. “What?” She asked, partially mortified at what Nyra’s words seemed to imply. 

“When I lost control of my powers. I need to know more about it.” Nyra looked at her. “Don’t look at me like that.” Nesta was looking at her in complete mortification despite her clarification. 

“That sounded like something else.” Nesta spoke, taking a napkin and dabbing at her chin. 

“How is it my fault that those smutty romances are messing with your head?” Nyra shot back. 

“Your words seemed to insinuate something.” Nesta countered. 

Nyra continued to look at Nesta, unimpressed. “A whole load of your delusions, I imagine.” 

“Well…” Nesta trailed away, blushing slightly and it was the horror of the morning when she accidentally met Cassian’s gaze and saw how he was looking at her. Like someone had punched him in the gut. And then he grinned like a buffoon and Nesta looked at her mug. It was empty but her mind certainly wasn’t.

“You fell asleep when we were in the shadows. I brought you back to your room.” Azriel spoke, his voice a little too deep that Nyra did notice. She looked at him. Azriel wanted to reach out and touch her cheek and hold her. Last night had been a wild stroke of luck. Not only had he held her but she had also clutched his shirt. And then he’d been privileged to embrace her again outside her bedroom. Outside was the key word here. “Nobody was hurt. You’re unhurt. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Nyra repeated, unconvinced and stared at him. Azriel held her stare, adamant at making her believe that everything was fine. Nyra broke their eye contact. “Fine.” And she resumed her meal. Azriel had finished his pear and was now moving on to the contents of his plate. Neither of them spoke or even looked at each other for the reminder of the breakfast. 

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot

****

[readychilledwine]

The Prettiest Fuck You

Summary - After the birth of Rhysand and Feyre's 3rd child, Tamlin sends a coded message with the help of his mate

Warnings - slight jealously, mentions of breeding, little IC slander, Tamlin is in a goofy mood

Prompt Day 3 - Mate/Flower Language

A/N - just a short little silly for @tamlinweek I'm so excited for the masterlist for today to pop up. I'm going to eat it all up. I fell in love with the idea of a fuck you bouquet after several reddit posts and a few on here, and Tamlin would seriously love to send one. I just know it.

Tamlin Masterlist

You blinked at Tamlin as you looked over the list of flowers that he had given you. Fox glove, yellow roses and carnations, Cyprus, babies breath, and marigolds?

Insincerity, congratulations, disappointment, death, and jealousy? You put the list down on your work table, silently hoping it would somehow magically disappear under the thousands of stems and ribbons from all the arrangements you had worked in today. “Tamlin-”

“Just do it.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your nose, trying to convince you with that signature smile.

“Tam-” You wanted to object to what the bouquet said, even if you would be able to make it absolutely stunning.

“It's fine.” Both hands were on your face as he kissed you softly.

“Ta-”

“It will look beautiful. You make everything so beautiful, dearest.” You couldn't help the soft smile. His words were not a lie. You were the most sought-after florist to the 7 courts for a reason.

You shook it off, focuing again. “Tamlin, this is-”

“Perfect to congratulate them with!” He walked away from you, chuckling as he did. You had little choice. It was a done discussion.

Your mate wasn't a bitter male all the time. Life shined in those bright green eyes, and they were always full of wonder, amazement, love, joy. But the Lord and Lady of Night announcing the birth of their 3rd child and waiting for the praise and attention that was bound to come with it? That made Tamlin bitter, sick, angry.

He had been too stuck in himself, too trapped in years of trauma, to offer Feyre the life he had offered you. One safe from any duties you did not want. One safe from politics. One where you were free to give him a child at any point. One where a family was wanted, but in due time, instead of an expectation to prove your court was moving on.

You were not Tamlin's symbolic incubator. Your womb was not meant to be used to send a message. You were his wife, his love, the one he showered in red roses and baby's breath, a sign of his eternal love and devotion. You two would have children someday. You would have an army if he'd allow it. But for now, until this lingering bitterness passed, you two would just continue to learn and grow together.

You went back to the task at hand

Gathering the buds he had requested and inspecting each and every single one to ensure its perfection and beauty. If you were going to do this. You were going to do it so well that Rhysand would not come mist your mate and then trap you in that damned Stone City. Tamlin learned through you to speak through flowers when they were sent as gifts or placed in his home. He had learned to say congratulations, to say his sympathy, to say his love, to show support. He had learned a new form of expression through you, and as intricately laced and weaved the flowers he had picked into an arrangement, you realized you thought him too well.

The flowers were beautiful, varying shades of yellows, oranges, whites, reds, and you had mixed your favorite feather-like greens in. It seemed so innocent to anyone who didn't know what the flowers symbolized, the language they spoke. It said “Fuck you and die,” in the most beautiful way possible.

You signed as you picked the vase, enchanting everything to last and stamping the card with the sign of the Spring Court, a rose and thorns. You sent it, hugging yourself slightly before walking into your shared room. it was quiet behind that door, and when you opened it, you could not help but to smile.

Centered on your vanity sat a bouquet of White tulips, red roses, and red spider lily. You knew immediately who they were from, who had made the arrangement, and who may be missing her favorite flowers from her garden.

It was stunning. Shades of red and white mixed with greenery that it was so perfectly balanced. It was huge, occupying most of the corner it sat on. He had surrounded it with poetry and chocolates. "Tam," you took one of those soft roses in your hands, smelling that familiar scent and sighing so happily.

You jumped as arms went around your waist, and kiss was placed to the side of your head. “How did it turn out?” His voice was laced with pride over his own creation.

“Gorgeous. I wouldn't make it any other way. Regardless of what you wanted it to say.”

“Elain lives in Day now, right?” You hummed and nodded. “But she will come visit them, won't she?”

“Of course.”

“Perfect. Perfect. And how about your flowers? How did they turn out?” Your mate, so handsome and strong, tended to need those compliments, and you were eager to hand him praise.

You turned into him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “So beautiful. Thank you for including Spider Lilies. This has to be the most stunning arrangement you've made so far." You touched the spider lily, fingers lingering on the off shoots as you did.

“Growth and new beginnings,” he whispered the meaning to you and watched as you nodded, looking up at him through watering eyes.

“And purity and true love.”

“To symbolize us, y/n.”

“To symbolize us,” you repeated.

Rhysand placed the bouquet from Spring centered on his table. He always admired y/n's work. Yes, Elain did wonderful things with flowers, but centuries of practice and studying had allowed you to create masterpieces with the blink of an eye. He smiled before walking away. Leaving a stunned Elain and Lucien to silently laugh.

Her mate leaned into her ear, red hair falling over her shoulder. “He really out did himself with this one.”

Elain had tears forming, “She made it so beautiful.”

“Do we tell him?”

“No,” Elain fixed the flowers from where they had been resting on Rhysand's chest. “Let Tam have this. I have enjoyed him alive lately. His gardens are exquisite."

"You're exquisite," Lucien squeezed the now supple hips of his mate, loving their new plush. "We should really visit soon."

"We should."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

[polyacotarweek]

Poly + ACOTAR Week Prompts 2025

Day 1 - 4/6: Whose court is it anyway?

This can go so many ways! What was your groups courtship like? Who courted who? Are they from different courts, and if so how does that affect their relationship? 

Day 2 - 4/7: Reveal

Who, or what is being revealed? Is it a flirtatious move or a serious conversation? You tell us!

Day 3 - 4/8: Will there be enough room?

Many of our favorite tropes are written with a pairing of two: grumpy/sunshine, golden retriever/black cat, enemies to lovers, the other male/female. How do they change when there’s more than two? How does your group of four or five fit in that inn’s only one bed? Take these tropes and flip them on their heads, or expand them for a larger group!

Day 4 - 4/9: Alternate Universe

Maybe it’s an alternate world, or a retelling of how canon would change if there were a larger romantic group. Perhaps your group is reminiscing on what could have been. What world will your group travel to? 

Day 5 - 4/10: Memories and History

What is your group remembering and why? Maybe it’s a memory of a favorite experience, or a painful one.  Is it a former partner, the day they chose to get together? 

Day 6 - 4/11: Courage

What does courage mean to you, or to your group? Courage to live freely, courage to go on an adventure, courage to try something new? The world is your oyster! 

Day 7 - 4/12: Why Choose?

Welcome to free day! Pick your favorite prompt ideas or tropes and mash them together, or take it literally and create a why choose scenario for your group.

We can't wait to celebrate with you this April! Please feel free to reach out with any questions.

[potatoplace]

Bloom

Elain x Reader

kinktober day 4 | sex pollen, outdoor sex, dub con

kinktober masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend Elain wants to visit the first just outside of Velaris to sketch plants in their natural habitats, but her mate Lucien wants her to have someone else with her, in case anything dangerous comes nearby. You accompany her, making a day out of your time together. One of the plants she finds has a rather unexpected effect.

Warnings: dub con because it's sex pollen, kind of cheating but it's not really a choice, smut

Words: ~1.9k

Author's Note: this one isn't as long as I wanted it to be, but it's enough that I'm happy with it. I just really wanted to get something out for tonight! I hope you guys like this, there will be a second part later in the month featuring Lucien too ooooo~ enjoy!

18+ only pls

🤍🩷🤍🩷🤍

A knock on your front door drew you away from your book, and when you opened it you were delighted to see your friend, Elain.

"Elain, it's nice to see you! Come in," you said cheerily, stepping aside and letting her through the doorway. You closed the door behind you and followed Elain into your sitting room, where your book on magical theory was spread wide open.

"Good morning, Y/N, I was wondering if you'd like to walk in the forest with me? I want to go and sketch plants in their wild habitat, but Lucien doesn't want me to go into the forest alone..." Elain trailed off, making puppy dog eyes at you.

"I'd love to, 'Lain! Just let me get changed and pack some food for us, I'll meet you at your house in half an hour, if that works for you."

Elain beamed at you. "That works perfectly! I'll see you in a bit, Y/N." She left your house a moment later, and you turned to your kitchen.

Knowing Elain, the two of you would be out for most of the day. She tended to get lost in what she was doing, especially if it had to do with plants.

You packed your knapsack full of goodies- some berries, carrot sticks, jerky, and a croissant for each of you. You also made sure to tuck two waterskins inside.

Soon you were outside of Elain’s door, fist raised to knock when it swung inwards, revealing Elain, a satchel hung over her shoulder.

“Let’s go!” Elain said brightly, locking the door behind her. The two of you meandered through the streets of Velaris, making your way to the edge of the wards of the city. In a few minutes, you passed through the wards, the silky feel of magic slipping off of your body marking the spot.

The two of you chatted about random things as you walked, you told her of your most recent class with young fae, and how impatient they were with attempting to summon their magic. Elain talked about Lucien, and how protective he was becoming lately.

“It would bother me, if I didn’t find it so sweet,” Elain said dreamily, and you smiled.

“It’s nice to have someone looking out for you all the time, isn’t it?”

She nodded in agreement. “It really is, he just wants me to be safe-” Elain gasped. “Look at that! What pretty flowers!” She exclaimed, leading you by the hand to the edge of a small pond, and pointed at the bright pink flowers, growing on top of the water, leaves spread underneath them. “I haven’t seen it in any of my books of Night Court flora, I wonder what it’s called?”

“Hmm… I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before,” you murmured, staring hard at the flowers while you wracked your brain. “Or it’s just pretty enough that I feel like I’ve seen it before.”

Elain had already sat down and was pulling a notebook out of her bag, along with a quill and pot of ink.

“Sketching this one?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mhm. I’d also like to take a sample home, so I can see more of its characteristics up close.”

You nodded, though Elain’s eyes were either glued to the page in front of her or the flowers floating on the water. You joined her on the ground, pleasantly surprised at how soft it was from the thick carpeting of moss underneath you.

Your knapsack followed next, placed on the ground to your left. Laying down, you settled in to watch the trees shifting above you, their leaves swirling in the gentle breeze.

A time later, you weren’t sure how long, Elain gently poked you awake, her fingers meeting your side. You sat up slowly and yawned, then stretched your arms out. “All done?” You asked, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

“Yes, all but the sample,” Elain replied, her eyes meeting yours.

Those damn puppy dog eyes.

“You want me to go and grab one for you, don’t you?”

Elain smiled sheepishly and nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind, please.”

You shook your head in amusement. As though you would say no to her, when she still had some struggles with being in water. “Since you said please, I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you so much!” Elain exclaimed, squeezing your arm gently and smiling at you.

“You owe me a coffee when we get home,” you said as you undid your laces and pulled your shoes off of your feet, then stood from your spot on the mossy ground. You undid the buttons on the back of your dress and let it fall off of your body, pooling at your feet.

When you dipped your toes into the pond, you were pleasantly surprised to find it a mild temperature- most waters in the Night Court were frigid year round, so this was a welcome change. You waded into the water, hesitating for a moment when it hit your waist.

“How’s the water?” Elain called out from the shore as your shoulders went under the surface of the water.

“Lovely!” You replied as you started to swim, making your way for the blooms in the middle of the water.

One was in your hand soon enough, plucked from its leaves. You did your best to keep it above water as you swim back to Elain. Once you were able to stand, you inspected the flower, mesmerized by the intricate swirls of a lighter shade of pink covering the petals. You took a small sniff of the flower, and stopped in your tracks.

It smelled amazing.

“‘Lain you have to smell this, mother above it’s heavenly!” You squealed, rushing through the water to reach her. You offered the bloom to her, which she took readily and lifted it to her nose, sighing happily at the scent.

“That smells so good!” Elain exclaimed, but you weren’t paying attention to what she was saying.

Because your body was on fire.

Desire had started licking its way from your core outwards, overtaking your senses within seconds of handing the flower over.

Your eyes locked onto Elain’s chest, so beautiful and soft and ready to-

Stop. She’s your friend.

You shut your eyes for a moment before they snapped open once more at the change in Elain’s scent, now mixed with desire.

Your eyes locked with hers for a moment before her brown orbs drifted lower… To your own chest, lingering there until a whine escaped your lips, drawing her gaze back to yours.

Your lips met a moment later, hers so plush and soft against yours you thought you could die from the feel of them. Elain’s hands were all over you, taking off your bra and tossing it to the side, her hands squeezing your breasts firmly. You broke away a moment later when her fingers pinched your nipples, a gasp tearing from your lips.

Your hands flew to the back of Elain’s dress, unbuttoning as many as you could before you started tugging the dress off her shoulders, revealing her pert breasts- bare already. The two of you were on each other again, tongues warring as you pushed her backwards, crawling on top of her where she was sprawled on the soft, mossy ground.

“Y/N,” she moaned as you separated, her hands looping over your shoulders. “Please…”

You could tell what she needed, just from her scent alone, and wasted no time in slinking down. You tugged her panties down quickly, your eyes locking on your prize.

Elain’s glistening pussy, so pink and pretty and all for you.

You positioned yourself between her thighs on your stomach, your arms wrapping underneath her thighs and keeping her spread wide.

The first lick was heaven, and the second even better, the sweet, honeyed taste of Elain’s arousal coating your tongue. You licked her clean before spreading her lips and tasting straight from the source, fucking your tongue into her hole as Elain’s hands grabbed your hair. She gently tugged you up so that your lips were hovering over her swollen clit. Your eyes met hers when you licked her bud the first time, a grin crossing your lips when her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she gasped softly.

Her heavy breaths were music to your ears, soft whines cutting through the haze of your thoughts and helping you to focus on feasting on the female below you.

Your hips were moving of their own accord, trying to find any friction to appease the aching heat between your own thighs. The urge to snake a hand between them was strong, but a particularly loud moan from Elain had your hand slipping out from underneath her and up instead, ghosting over the skin of her inner thigh before meeting her center, one finger sliding inside of her with ease.

Elain’s hips lifted off the ground a moment before settling back down, grinding into your finger. Her soft moan and hand pushing your head down had you wrapping your lips around her clit as you pushed a second finger inside, delighting in Elain’s breathy moans.

You pumped your fingers in and out, curling them into the spot that made Elain moan loudest as you sucked on her clit, moving faster when her thighs clamped down on your head, and a gentle scrape of your teeth was what pushed her over the edge, screaming out her climax into the forest air.

Her legs were shaking as you continued to work her, prolonging her pleasure until they fell to the side and her hands stopped pulling you closer and instead pushing you back slightly.

Your own hips were still rocking into the air, searching for friction that you couldn’t find in your current position. You rested your head on her right thigh, and your gaze slipped up Elain’s body, cataloguing the flush across her chest and the slight gleam of sweat on her skin before meeting her chocolate eyes. You bit your lip at the look in her eye, the hunger still burning within her.

“Y/N…” Elain said softly.

“Mm?”

“Lay back, love.” Elain’s voice was low, heady with desire as her hands pushed your shoulders gently, your body putty in her hands.

Her touch was like cool water over your skin, relieving the heat that had been building for so long now. You were laying on your back with Elain hovering between your thighs, her eyes locked with yours.

“‘Lain, please,” you begged, canting your hips up.

“Since you said please,” Elain said breathlessly, lowering her mouth to your pussy and keeping her eyes level with yours.

The first brush of her tongue against you was amazing, flashes of ice filling your veins, but the moment she had pulled away heat rushed back, worse than before, only abating with Elain’s touch.

“Fuck, ‘Lain,” you groaned, hands pawing at her shoulders. “Feels so good…”

Elain pulled away for a moment, saying “I know, love, just hang in… it feels a little better once you finish.”

You groaned at the thought, tugging her closer and she giggled in response.

“Be good, okay?” She asked, peering up at you from her lashes, and you nodded your head.

You could do that. You could be good, to keep Elain’s mouth on you.

You will be good for her.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

[thisblogisaboutabook]

When the Lightsinger Calls (I Hear a Symphony)

An Azriel Drabble

Azriel daydreams of his mate -Inspired by ‘I Hear a Symphony’ by Cody Fry

I used to hear a simple song.

The warm winds of summer blew through the Illyrian mountains as Azriel sat sprawled on a thick branch fifty feet in the air, one leather covered leg dangling as the other stretched across the branch, his back resting against the trunk of an old Oak tree.

Cassian had been butting heads with Devlon for hours. Same shit, different day as they heatedly negotiated new terms for the training of Illyrian females. Devlon, of course, remained as stubborn as an ass. Even after decades of his bullshit, it never failed to chafe Azriel’s nerves that they were under the regime of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history yet had to make nice with stuck-in-their-ways pricks like him. Today in particular had left Azriel feeling less than giving.

Cassian booted Azriel out of negotiations in record time, which admittedly, was likely for the best. Azriel’s dominant stance, deadly gaze, and violent whirling shadows were not best suited for these futile attempts of “sweet talking” Devlon out of his deeply rooted misogyny. If Azriel had his way Truth Teller would do all the talking, but diplomacy unfortunately took precedence.

He may have put up more of a fight when storming out of the Camp Lord’s office had Cassian’s weapon of choice today not had a unique way of toeing that line between diplomacy and force in a way that even Truth Teller could not. No blood spillage necessary, though, Azriel thought with a smirk, the weapon could do just that as well.

The warmth of the suns rays shining through the rustling leaves and the scratch of bark lightly grazing the sensitive membranes of his wings - hitting those spots he could never quite reach - had Azriel drifting off into a light dream state.

As he began to doze, shadows hummed around him, the whistling breeze mixing in with their whirring as they sensed for any incoming threats.

Blending in with their simple song, the creek nearby babbled with the sounds of trickling water, crickets chirped beneath rocks below.

His thoughts became more vivid as his conscience drifted deeper into sleep.

His jaw ticked, wings jerking slightly as he dreamed glimpses of deep red coating his marred skin from the countless souls he’d drawn blood from, lifeless bodies scattered across bloody battlefields, dark cells, the bright flare of roaring fire scalding a child’s hands, his shadows melody becoming broken as they attempted to soothe their master.

The melody became lighter as the flame in his dreams became flashes of light, blurred glimpses of a lovely face appearing in and out of his dreams. A soft laugh intertwined itself with his shadows, the solemn hymn becoming lighter, with vibrant bursts of energy leaving his heart fluttering. More images of the ethereal face flickered through his mind, soft blush dusted cheeks, a radiant white smile, supple fingers tracing the muscles of his chest, plush lips on bare skin, all appearing to the beat of the rising staccato. His lips quirked upward in his sleep as his guard dropped lower and lower and the melody continued growing louder, building into the crescendo of the loveliest symphony he’d heard yet, even in Prythian’s most renowned concert halls.

The music filled Azriel’s entire being, leaving him light as shadow, his flaws forging themselves from ugly into something beautiful, something worthy, as the melody carried his soul toward the light.

Just as his body began to slump out of the tree a sing-song voice brighter than day awoke him. “Careful, Shadowsinger. One might think you’re sleeping on the job.”

He looked down to his beautiful mate, the face his dream had called him to. “My little Lightsinger, did you give Devlon hell?”

She beamed. “Worked a little on him. The girls get seven more hours per week and Cass or I can do spot checks whenever we please. I’ll push for more when we meet again in a few months.”

“That’s my girl.” His eyes shone with the pride filling his chest as he launched out of the tree and swept her off her feet.

“Let’s go home.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. Azriel only blushed and did just as his lady said, the two falling into companionable silence as her light and his shadow mingled in harmony the entire flight back to Velaris.

And now I hear a symphony.

———————————————-

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien x Reader | Dracula’s Brides

type: smut warning(s): vampire!Lucien, mortal!Elain, mortal!Reader, blood drinking, explicit descriptions word count: 3k words

request: the queen (aka @separatist-apologist) has redirected me to another queen…so…would you perhaps be interested.....in a polysandwich elain × reader x lucien......(monster fucking is optional)…also they told me to say something nice and i love your blog aesthetic <3 — hope this is what you wanted? not sure tbh, loved writing it though & thank you @moonlightazriel for the picture!!!!

-all rights reserved-

Lucien Van Serra — at day, a nobel male hidden in his mansion. But at night an even nobler male in the sheets. It is in the dead of night that he worships his victims, praises them, loves them tenderly for the heat of the moment until his fangs pierce the surface of their oh so soft skin, dragging over their throat, drawing blood until the very last ounce.

His prey those oh so lovely mortal females that stroll outside around in the city, that are so easily lured into his mansion, his private chambers, his bed. 

He only ever takes what is offered, not once has he forced himself upon one of those beautiful females. They have to consent. The same does not apply for blood–he takes that anyway. 

Sometimes more, sometimes less, but always enough to keep him sated. Blood is what brings him pleasure, brings him warmth when his skin turns cold once again, when his heart beats slower, when his soul aches because of loneliness. Oh, and does it get lonely in this large mansion. 

He yearns for a partner, a lovely female that wants to spend her life with him. But who would be willing to do so? Who would willingly want to spend the rest of her life with him? Someone like him?

No one.

He is a monster, he knows that, hiding inside his villa for the most part of his life—always actually, safe for the one hour at night he goes out on his hunt. 

And it is that time of the night again. A warm autumn night.

Lucien wraps his belt around his waist, fixing his thick cloak of black velvet. His hair, as usual, tied at the nape of his neck. He smoothes his hand over his head once, hoping to fix any strands that are out of place.

He halts for a moment, his gaze moving to the mirror where there is no reflection. The only inkling of what he looks like he has from paintings, paintings an artist called Feyre Archeron has made. She has been brave enough to enter his hell hole, but has stopped that after marrying the mayor of the city Lucien has been living in for centuries. His mansion has since ever been right on the border to the large, dark forest where the least mortals would wander and annoy him by trying to peek inside his home. 

The early autumn air is cold when it brushes his skin and the male draws in a deep breath, loving the smell of this season. A sudden feeling of tangy sadness fills his chest – he gets to experience this out here, this freedom, way too little. 

The big oak door falls shut behind, rattling the whole old buildling. There is no need for locking it, no one anyways dares to enter this place. People are curious and want to peek inside, but they do not enter just like that. Lucien’s knows that the mothers of this town tell their little children to stay away from this place, from his house, as he would kill them if they entered.

Of course, these kinds of accusations land a blow to his heart, hurt him, but what can he do against them? Those mothers are not fully wrong about him—only that he would never take a child’s life. 

Only the mortals who deserve it would die at his hands. And those mortal females that offered themselves up to him, but they did not count, they wanted this themselves, wanted to give themselves to him, knowing what expected them. They were willing prey.

Sometimes Lucien does not really care about his partner, most of the time actually, as long as they consent, he was content. Mostly he is driven by blood lust and is anyways oblivious to any flaws and does not care about what his partners look like. 

Not that one particular night, that night he is more sated, the night he goes for a stroll.

And then–

This night changes everything. Because he no longer just needs. He wants. All of the longing, the yearning, increases this night. His loneliness is dreadful because for the first time in his life he has someone to yearn for – two mortal females, young, kind, curious. Rosy cheeks, full lips, bright eyes. 

Lucien watches you and Elain from afar, taking an evening walk probably? 

But Lucien does not want to ponder what has brought you out here. He decides it was fate that has brought the two of you here and he would never contradict fate. 

And so his eyes follow, you, the both of you. Your steps, your bodies, your voices, how you talk, what you talk about. It is like a trance for him, like sweet oblivion, his legs and arms numb, his heart light-weighted, his head foggy, mind clouded with desire. 

He finds himself reveling in the sound of your voices, figuring that he could get drunk on your laughs every night and coming to the conclusion he desperately wants to meet you. Not like this though. If he approached you like this, you would scare away, he knows that. He also does not want this to be a thing for one night. He wants this to be…forever. His forever. Your forever.

So an invitation has to follow and since the clever vampire has lived for centuries he has his ways to figure out where you live and who you are. 

And so the invitations are sent. To Elain Archeron and Y/N Y/L/N. 

You names already taste like heaven on his tongue although hell is the place he belongs to. 

Because, although he is a reserved male who wants no company, who does not want people to interfere with his business, there is one day each year where our Lord of fire and blood opens his gates, his doors, when he hosts his ball. Only the brave and fearless come to dance in his halls, drink expensive wine, dine from the finest dishes. Only the bravest and those with invitations.

You and Elain are on the guest list this year, the reason unknown at that point. And so you are not aware how this night will alter your lives forever, how everything will change from then on.

And so Elain, your best friend, and you enter his mansion, anticipation bubbling inside of you and making you both feel bubbly. You are excited, not sure if you are ready for what you will see and you are definitely not ready for what will happen in a few hours. But that is unknown now – at least to the two of you.

The feast presented to you and all guests is outstanding, every possible food served, the finest wines, the tastiest meat, fruits and vegetables. Both Elain and you keep looking around, hoping to steal a glance at the mysterious male hidden behind these walls. You have only ever heard stories and legends, you are obviously curious. 

It feels like something –more than this invitation– has drawn you here, like a pull, a tug on your chest. Tingles erupt in your whole body when you think that you might be able to steal a glance at the master leaving inside these walls.

Later that night, tipsy from the finest wine, you and Elain decide to dance, swaying over the floor, the music so beguiling, luring you towards the centre. 

Skins clammy with sweat, hearts beating frantically, faces glowing, smiling brightly, he joins you. Slender hands touch your hips when you are pulled back towards a large male behind you, falling against his chest. You revel into the feel of his broad, cool chest and pull Elain with you.

Only when a deep chuckle sounds in your ear, his solid chest rumbling against your back, you know in whose arms you find yourself in. But you find yourself unable to turn, Elain’s hand, that hold yours, tremble because she is looking, her gaze solely focused on the male behind you. Her mouth gapes, eyes wide open, aglow.

Bringing her closer, the three of you move together, as one.

It is a dance filled with desire, heated touches, swirling and twirling, bodies connecting and parting. Everyone around your seems to disappear, merge into the big crowd that starts to vanish as desire clouds your vision. There is only want and need, every other emotion eroded. 

And so you do not only enter his mansion, you find yourself following after him, alongside your friend Elain, to the back of his villa where the music is only whisper in the air.  

Moving on light steps the two of you enter his bedchamber to continue dancing there–the devil’s tango.

He asks for your consent and you give him your consent. All of you are ready to enter this, although slight hesitation blooms inside both your and Elain’s chest as realisation of what is about to happen dawns on you two. 

Lucien’s sharp fangs flash when a grin parts his lips, eyes aglow. “You both look stunning tonight. Lady Elain. Lady Y/N.” You smile, cheeks flushing when you lift your hand and brush it over Lucien’s scar, thumb softly stroking his skin. There is no hesitance in your movement and it nearly draws tears into Lucien's eyes – if he was able to produce such things.

“You are beautiful, my lord.” 

A delighted growl is the answer, his desire just as acute as yours.

Lucien lets you both undress him. Tentatively removing the pieces of clothing, you reveal his glorious body underneath, every little inch of it until the male stands, dressed in just the skin he was born with, in front of you. He is stunning, cruel beauty, all hard skin, edges and muscles.

You kiss Lucien’s back, tongue sliding over his left shoulder blade when your hands curl around his waist. He is helping Elain, whose face is a deep beetroot red, undress before sharing a passionate, breathtaking kiss with her. It takes her a little by surprise, making her knees wobble, but she is the one to connect their lips just once again.

You are following, both of them helping you undress because you dress is the most difficult to get off. Once fully bare, you draw in a deep breath and lift your gaze to the male whose skin is like porcelain.

Encouraged by desire, you worship his body, pampering it with sweet kisses, loving touches and soft squeezes. A lot of conversations happens without actually talking, but since Elain and you both have heard the stories about him you are very well aware of what will happen this night. And you are more than ready to give yourself to the Lord of blood – his veins filled with fire and he is said to fuck like this too.

It is Elain who dares to ask a question, her knees wobbly when her hand grabs yours and she steps up next to you. “You will draw blood from us now, won’t you?”

“I will, my lovely flower. But only a little.” “Will it hurt?”

His smile is warm and understanding, his expression sincere and honest. “It will sting a little, but I will be gentle," Lucien says, his voice, the deep tenor reverberating through your bodies, making wet heal pool in your centre and your toes curl. He guides you both over to the luxurious bed, the bed posts made of the most beautiful mahogany, the sheets of velvet red.  

You can scent both Elain and Lucien’s arousal, just as poignant as yours, their passion just acute as your own. 

It is this want, this primal need, that has not decreased since the very first touch of Lucien hands earlier that evening, it has only gotten more and more intense. 

“I can go first,” you quickly say, noticing Elain’s slight discomfort and hesitation. You want to spare her from having to go first, wanting to show her that it is fine. Elain flashes you a warm, thankful smile and you bow your head. 

“If that is what you want.” Lucien steps closer to you, hands brushing up your arms and he kisses the top of your head. “I won’t hurt you, my sweet lady.” 

You believe him, trust him. He will not hurt you, you know this. And you know that, even though he has this bad reputation. He seems like a generous male who cares about your feelings. He seems to care about you two like no one has ever before. And that is because you also care about him. You know he knows that. Knows that this is not just about physical pleasure.

His erection presses against your belly, when the tall male leans in, and against your skin he says, "May I?"

Your voice is a breathy whisper, your answer a clear yes.

Lips closing over yours, he kisses you deeply, one hand leaving you, he reaches over to Elain, stroking her cheek softly, before his hand grabs you again.

His lips are cool, but soft, plump. Your mouth waters at the thought of what his lips can do and you can barely contain your excitement, grinning into the kiss with pure bliss, while holding back a tiny squeal.

The stunning male carefully places you on the mattress, only to turn to Elain, who flashes him a sheepish grin. “Will you allow me another kiss?”

“Yes” With that his mouth captures hers as well, kissing her deeply, helping the young female move onto the bed as well before breaking the kiss. And then his eyes widen, lips parting slightly. 

He silently regards you, eyes on fire, burning flames of fire leaving heat in every place they touch. 

“Gods have mercy on me,” he says, fangs shining brightly in the dim room. “The two of you will truly be my end.”

He moves onto the bed, opting to glide up your body, kissing you deeply. But you don’t want him to draw blood immediately, you want him to suffer just a little longer, want his need to be stronger. You want him to beg for a drop of the sweet, thick liquid. 

So what you do is curl your leg around his hips, rolling him over. Leaving the kiss, you tilt your head, and with some silent conversation make Elain aware of your plan. She understands, cheeks flushed, strands of hair curling around her face when she nods.

Both Elain and you don’t waste a moment to worship him, your from then on master in the bedroom. You pamper his skin with kisses, moving up and down his body, soft brushes of your fingers and tongues accompanying your actions. There is not much guidance needed, somehow all three of you perfectly fall into place, in a role. Lucien finds himself in a state of ecstasy, his head thrown back, a breathtaking grin blooming on his flushed face. 

Your hand, somehow on its own accord, curls around his proud length, stroking slightly which has the male growling. His leg jerks up and when he wants to move, Elain pins him down, arching her brow, eyes glowing with mischief. “Let us play a little, master,” she coos, grinning viciously. Lucien thinks he might just come at her wording, or you handling his cock. 

Either thing is too much, and he needs…needs more. And needs blood.

He decides he has let you play long enough and so he moves, now guiding you so he is propped up against the headboard, you sitting beside him, Elain kneeling between his thighs.

“This is what you want?” Lucien asks, softly, his gaze solely focused on Elain.

“I want you in my mouth, yes.”

“Such a good girl.” He speaks with so much admiration, it has both yours and Elain’s toes curling. And without many words being spoken Elain kisses up his thighs, her hand now curling around him, softly stroking. She makes her way up to his groin while the glorious male pulls you in for a kiss. “I will be gentle,” he assures once again, his thumb brushing your cheek. The kiss is needy, full of fire and passion. Damp lips coast lower, brushing over your jaw. You feel heat pool in your core, his scent, his voice, making your toes curl. 

His fangs sink in and Lucien groans low in his throat, the sound so guttural and raw it has your knees shaking. Lucien holds you, helping you sit straight while draws the first drop of blood from around the puckered skin of your breast, his tongue latching on your nipple, front teeth teasing the tight bud. 

You arch into the strong male, his hand sliding to your backside, squeezing ever so softly. A growl leaves the hungry male when Elain takes him in his mouth, lips closing around the tip, suckling, licking, teasing.

Taking one sip that has his head spinning, his heart racing, Lucien pulls and you feel it in your whole body. You moan, the feeling so overwhelming. Your thighs clench and you fist the sheet next to you, squeezing your eyes shut. 

You walls clench around nothing, and so you let one hand travel down your belly, parting your hot flesh, sliding two fingers inside. A warm hand moves over yours, his skin now warmed by your blood and Lucien presses down on your fingers, adding more pressure. When you gasp lightly, he lifts his mouth from your breast, flicking his tongue over the tiny dots, and grins at you, his brow lifted. 

But the moment is only short, his lips close over the spot once again, the skin already a bit darker from the bruising kiss he leaves there. The same moment Elain’s hand falls to the apex of her thighs, she moans loudly around Lucien and can feel him twitch, knowing he is close. 

Fueled by the taste of your blood he cannot last too long and his undoing is when Elain swallows around him, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. Lucien sharply pulls back from your boob, his face clammy with sweat, eyes ablaze, lips blood streaked. “In you?” The flick of her tongue against the crown of his cock is answer enough and Lucien lets go of every restraint he had on himself. Hips no longer moving with shallow movements, now jerking up, pounding into Elain, his hand–the one not occupied with you, holding her head down. He no longer drinks from you, just kisses you with hunger, desire and lust. His fingers still resting over yours, his thumb caresses your clit, pushing you over the edge the same moment his hot release fills Elain's mouth. 

You feel a bit dizzy, he has not taken that much blood but some and for someone not used to that it can make them feel and so Lucien suggests you to take a little from Elain. She agrees, you are her best friend after all, and especially after that night you will be closer than ever before. 

His fangs once again pierce her skin, on her wrist, he brings his arm to your mouth, letting you drink. You almost want to cry at the taste–she tastes absolutely succulent, sweet and spicy.

Lucien, the glorious and completely misunderstood male he is, makes sure you don’t take enough because you are greedy and can’t get enough. He lets Elain feed from him as well, her lips and tongue hungrily suckling on his skin, his blood, and then he worships her, while you worship him. 

Later that night your bodies come together once again, moving in perfect sync. You devour each other in more than one way, sweet love making followed by some rougher, harder sex that has all of you gasping, panting for air, and cursing the gods and lord above. 

Only when you fall to the mattress, fully spent and sated, you know that this is what you want for the rest of your life. Not one day would you want to spend without the two of them. You share this with them, Elain’s heavy-lidded gaze lifting to you from Lucien’s chest, her hand placed over his heart. You own head is placed on the other side of his chest, his arms around the both of you, the thick velvet blanket covering you all. 

“Perfection,” Lucien drawls, his lids closing when he hears your breathing getting heavier, knowing both of you will sleep soon. And you will sleep in this bed for the rest of your lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional  @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @velidewrites