#Nemesis Vanserra | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crypticandmachiavellianaugustine · 1 year ago

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Sweet Nothings (Part One)

Part Two

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: Y/N is a lesser fae who is spending her life wandering around different Courts, everything changes when she ends up in Autumn and by accident meets the new High Lord.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, lots of self doubt, mentions of dog attack? (not really the smoke hounds are good puppies who look terrifying)

English is not my language so I deeply apologise for any eventual mistake also sorry if it sucks, I reread it while tired.

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One day, when she was only a curious child, Y/N had found her nemesis in a bush of wild raspberries. It was the time of dreams and fireflies who, in her mind of little girl, plausibly lived inside thorny loops of greenery with delicious berries peaking from behind the leaves. But the fireflies were not pleased to find a young thief at their front door and that was the day Y/N got her first and only scar, a thin white line on one of her legs as a reminder to not walk through literal thorns too carelessly.

As an adult, Y/N had made it an habit to plant raspberries and roses in every place she had ever lived. She was a lesser fae, and despite everything, that meant a very long life. And she was part mortal, with no other choice than to live in the outskirts of every society she encountered in Prythian, destined to shine briefly for her talents but be quickly disposed of, when those around her could scent the doomed outcast in her.

Born in Winter she had wandered to Summer and from there she had thrown herself into the unknown, as the fates intended. She had lived a hundred lives, voraciously trying to fill her loneliness, learning new things all the time. No matter how much life humbled her, or how miserable she was sometimes. Today she was a patissier at the Court of Autumn, but in the past she had been a maid in Winter, secretly learning a language spoken in a remote mortal land under the light of a candle when the household she was working in was asleep. Silently, in the coldest hours of the night she had fought to stay awake and do something with herself that was different from scrubbing the floors of that old manor.

A century after that, she had been almost a beggar in the lands of Dawn, the witch that lived as an hermit and used every plant she found to create oils and fragrances and remedies, trying to match every smell with a specific feeling or memory.

Doing something other than what was expected from someone of her stance had been what had kept her alive for so long, what had kept her sane when all of her hopes were digging themselves deep into the ground of a place that was not her home.

And a home was the one thing that Y/N had never really known. She had lived in plenty of places, but in her mind a malicious sentence echoed constantly, 'the point of a home is to have somewhere to always return to'.

Her dreams, her hopes, her passions... Those were the things that made her feel like an individual and not like the lowly being she had often been treated like.

For many long years, books had been her only friends, the only comfort afforded to her by the world. And in dusty books from the mortal lands, wastepaper in Prythian, she had decided than one day she would live an autumn like the ones described in those stained pages. But the Autumn Court had been avoided like the plague by Y/N in her constant wandering, too many stories of cruelty had came out of that place for her to be courageous enough to dare enter that territory.

Months before, when she was still in the Day Court, working in one of the countless libraries, she had heard whisperings of the passing of the old High Lord of Autumn who apparently had died under mysterious circumstances. She decided to move to a closer court and observe Autumn, but once she had catched a glimpse of the rust coloured tree leaves in the distance she knew that it would not take too long before her curiosity consumed her caution.

Y/N lived in the frost covered land of Winter for three weeks before leaving the court she had been born in centuries before, to pry into a forest that reminded her of a particularly bright sunset.

A month later, Y/N still had no idea on how a simple walk into a forest turned into her working at the most important palace of Autumn. Actually she knew exactly how it had happened but the chain of events had been so confusionary to live that she preferred not to think too much about it.

It all started when she got lost, too mesmerised by the warm colours surrounding her to carefully stay close to the border of Winter. And it progressively got stranger when Y/N realised with horror that she was walking on a trail that ended in a village. Certainly a picturesque place she thought before trying to put some distance between her and the cabins without being noticed, failing so miserably that she pondered hiding in a cave and have another few almost hermitic decades.

Before she could manage to build up a convincing lie about places she was trying urgently to reach, she had found herself sitting for dinner in a real house as a guest of an extremely chatty family, ordered to sit by a matron that was as welcoming as she was intimidating. And after a week, awkwardly relishing the kindness of the villagers like a wild cat being fed for the first time, Y/N's first real attempt at socialising had been preparing delicious sweets for everyone who had been nice to her. She always stubbornly downplayed her talents, flaunting made her anxious and obsessed about everything that could go wrong. It all started with simple biscuits, buttery and spiced, served with warm goat milk to her hosts for breakfast. Continued with a plate of swirling pastel pink meringues and a strawberry marmalade cake, to an old widow that had tailored and gifted her a delicate dress decorated with numerous embroidered tiny lilac flowers, one of her favourites from when she had been young. Then she baked an earthy weat cake with chestnut cream for a very old fae who allowed her to use his personal library. After weeks of joyful carrot muffins, candied citrus fruits given away to the few younglings of the village at every occasion, and a sustained sequence of birthday cakes, her new ephemeral normalcy was shattered by the visit of some relatives of the family that had welcomed her the first time she had stumbled into that small settlement.

The lady of the house who had treated Y/N almost like a daughter had a brother who knew someone who worked in the kitchens of the Forest House and he swore that he could find a place as an assistant patissier for the maker of the cherry cake he was enjoying, cake that Y/N had baked that day, realising that the small house was fervently preparing for a special dinner.

'Forest House, what a stupid name for a palace' she thought, of course she would leave, the last thing she wanted was to be a burden for her hosts. Even if she had enjoyed her time in the village she was ready to leave, she would go back one day, she knew it.

Y/N had learned the hard way not to fuss over the past and not to get too attached to anything she met in her eternal wandering. She often found herself thinking that her life flowed just like water, unforgiving and unemotional warden of memories that were never allowed to get back to the shore.

She whispered her goodbyes into the morning mist and left without looking back.

To fall into a routine while working in the kitchens had been surprisingly easy. Just as easy and unexpected it had been starting to work there, Y/N had been quickly pushed into the role of one of the main patissiers by a small and nervous male who had declared himself too old to bother with the frills of the fine patisserie that was expected to come out of the kitchens of the Forest House.

Y/N found it almost relaxing, to work unbothered in her corner. Baking, preparing, assembling and decorating her various creations, had become the actions that paced her days. The chatter, the clashing of pots and the crackling of the fire were all background noises that kept her mind silent, free to focus on her job.

She rarely left the staff quarters, and when she did, it was to sneak into the gardens and explore them furtively, even if no one was ever there to enjoy them anyway.

Most of her free time was spent with the cats that lived of the kitchen's leftovers, she had realised with delight that the small feral creatures somehow enjoyed the soft singing that sometimes came out of her mouth when she was alone or too distracted.

As an outsider she felt shy when talking with her colleagues, and they had all run out of conversation points rather quickly. All they ever talked about was work, the new elusive High Lord that everyone was wary of and every scandal the nobles caused on a weekly basis. Y/N was not too interested in any of that, after all she did not know any of those people. She strongly suspected to have catched a glimpse of the new High Lord during one of her secret explorations of the gardens, when she had noticed a crowned head move away from one of the windows, in a confusionary mirage of auburn hair and an aura of arrogance. Her visits to the gardens had decreased drastically after that occurrence. Better careful than caught.

One night she decided to sneak into the gardens again, the day had been an almost nightmare and she needed to get away from the kitchens for a little while. It had been a busy day, lords from all over the Court were visiting the Forest House and the kitchens felt like a gigantic furnace. Y/N had been forced to take refuge in the ice cellar to finish up all of the desserts she was preparing to avoid them melting miserably in the torrid chaos. All of her cat friends had avoided the kitchens the whole day, frightened by the deafening sounds and strong smells.

Y/N threw herself on a bed of dense moss, breathing in deeply the scent of alyssum that permeated in that hidden spot of the gardens. She got up with a huff and started walking, falling asleep there would be a terrible idea. She took a new route, one that she had usually avoided during her past secret explorations, she felt bolder hidden by the darkness of the night. The unexplored part of the gardens was near the orangery and the large path in front of it was not covered by trees like the rest. Y/N gently slid her fingers over a fragrant line of muguets before stopping in front of the pot of an majestic orchid that had definitely seen better days, she hid the plant in a corner that was a little more bit sheltered from the crisp autumnal wind.

Y/N continued to walk until she reached an enormous and elaborate fountain. It was one of her favourites parts of the gardens, the intricate metal fence that surrounded it was rusty and the fountain itself was so vast that a small island had been placed at its center, the statues on it were covered with moss. Water came out of small statuettes of all around the perimeter but must of it was coming out of the island, the sound of it difficult to ignore. It was like something out of a book, a forgotten wonder in an abandoned garden. A group of ducks lived there and Y/N liked to gather berries from nearby bushes and feed the adorable animals. She could see them, despite the darkness, smoothly swimming towards her. She quickly picked a handful of blueberries and threw them in the water, her gesture met with a few happy quacking sounds.

Y/N smiled to herself and started to head in direction of the kitchens, hoping to sneak in her little room without awakening any of her colleagues. The night was silent and hearing a rustle behind her made her stop in her tracks petrified, she slowly turned around just in time for a monstrous beast to jump on her and make her fall onto the ground with a terrified screech. The beast, that she realised was a dog, was blocking her with its paws painfully pressed into her ribs, sniffing her face. Y/N wanted to scream loudly and desperately, but she held it back and tried to stay still, hoping that the dog would lose interest in her. Tears were running down her face and usually she wasn't one for praying, but in her mind she begged the Mother to save her from a fate as horrible as dying mauled by the jaws of that animal. It was licking her face, cruelly preparing to take the first bite...

"Let the little bunny go, Willow," said a male voice, good-naturedly scolding the dog. Y/N started sobbing when the monster- Willow- finally allowed her to breathe. The gigantic dog lowered her head to the ground and looked at the crying girl, Y/N could swear that she saw worry in those eyes and Willow tentatively licked her face, whining in a comically apologetic way for a hound so terrifying.

Strong arms grabbed her and pulled her up, in between tears she found herself looking at a tall male, clearly one of the nobles. It took her a few moments to connect the dots, the auburn hair and the hound, she could make out the dark shapes of more of them in the distance, his impeccable clothes and the slightly haughty expression... Y/N was almost sure that she was in front of the Hight Lord, and if the one scrutinising her in that moment was not him, he was probably one of his brothers.

Realising that she had been caught in the gardens she made a curtsy, trying to contain her trembling of fear from everything that was happening. He clicked his tongue, and Y/N held her breath terrified, she had annoyed him even more.

But instead of immediately reprimanding her or worse, he tilted her head up. There was a surprising gentleness in his gesture that clashed with the impassive expression on his face, his eyes on the other hand carried a glint of arrogance and amusement in them.

"Don't worry, little bunny, none of us bites without a good reason," he said, almost as if he was making fun of her. Then he produced a handkerchief and handed it to her, Y/N could not dare to accept it, she didn't want to stain the white and soft looking fabric with the mud that had dirtied her hands after his hound had made her fall. He rolled his eyes with an attitude that in a clearer state of mind she would have found infuriating and, still with that strange gentleness, he wiped her tears off. Y/N almost jumped back, embarrassed.

"Does the little bunny have a name?" He asked. Y/N was starting to get mildly annoyed with his attitude, he was talking to her as if she actually was a wild frightened creature of the woods.

She told him her name in a timid whisper and he repeated it, her name sounding almost comforting in his mouth. Y/N tried to put on a mask of composure.

"I deeply apologise, my lord. I should not be here and..." she said quickly and agitated before he interrupted her by putting a finger on her lips.

"Call me Eris," he said not looking at her and going to damp the handkerchief under the spilling water of one of the small fountain statuettes near them.

Y/N went pale, so he was the High Lord. He started cautiously cleaning her hands, making sure that she didn't hurt herself falling.

"I can do this on my own. You shouldn't bother yourself with me, my lord" she whispered but he ignored her, except for an annoyed look when she insisted in not calling him by his name.

"You don't feel it yet, don't you?" asked Eris frowning and observing her carefully. Y/N looked at him interrogatively. Then suddenly it all became clear and the realisation took her breath away. In a moment something snapped in between them and a single thread of gold tied their souls together. In the past she had tried to imagine what a mating bond could feel like but the reality of it was completely different from every single daydream she had secretly indulged in. The sheer and raw sense of belonging was something unexpected, it was as if the nostalgia that she often felt inside of her heart had been finally placated.

She would have fallen to the ground again if he didn't catch her, holding her in his arms almost with reverence.

"Never again you will fall" murmured Eris "I won't allow it".

"That is an unpractical intention" she replied. Uncertainty was rumbling in her mind, she wanted to run, to hide far away and disappear, to live like a wild animal in the forest and forget everything about all of this. He was her mate and a stranger, their lives were not supposed to touch, they were not supposed to meet, let alone being bound together by a superior force.

Y/N felt ashamed suddenly, she was being weak by allowing him to be close, to hold her up when she was supposed to ruinously fall. Someone of his stance would never accept to be shackled to a lesser fae, she did not want to delude herself into heartbreak and rejection. Maybe he was being polite for pity or for some perverse game, was she a rabbit about to fall into the jaws a fox?

She hastily put some distance between them, in that moment she really wished to have the ability to winnow.

Eris had a hurt look in his eyes when she backed away, it lasted a second before he composed himself once again and started speaking calmly, as if he knew of her intentions and he wanted to keep her from running like a frightened wild bunny.

"I have no intention to hurt you. I merely plead you to allow me to take care of you and to protect you, others may try to harm you for this bond between us. It is your choice to accept it or not but I would like to clarify that, for me, you are a miracle I never dared to hope in".

"You don't know me, don't use words you will regret," said Y/N, her face a mask of cold nonchalance that she sometimes used to protect herself with. But he simply smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Please," he whispered, in a vulnerable manner that made Y/N raise her brows with scepticism. How could she surrender to the unknown?

Y/N was standing in front of her mirror, doubtfully studying her reflection. Three months had passed since the night in the garden.

Two months of tedious hours with a dozen seamstresses who had been tasked to create a wardrobe for her that was worthy of the High Lord's mate. Three months of eating almost every meal with Eris and spending time in his office or in the gardens together. Three months of trying to fill her days with literature and other pastimes to keep her mind from thinking too intensely about the uncertainty of her future.

When she had accepted to be moved to another, more suitable, room for her security-excuse quickly added by Eris just when she was about to start protesting- she had insisted for her new room to be as simple as possible and she was sure that her mate had not taken that request into consideration in the slightest.

Her room was spacious and sumptuously decorated, the windows were tall, some of them partly made of intricate stained glass art, and there was even a terrace.

Y/N continued to stand in front of the large mirror, trying to find a way to make her hair presentable. She knew that she could never match the sophisticated looks of the ladies she had seen at court, wives and daughters of advisers and courtiers with intricate hairstyles and the behaviour of someone who belonged there in the Forest House. She had started to be almost ashamed of how her hair only reached her shoulders, she had used to love how the delicate waves framed her face and how comfortable keeping them at that length was, but at court she felt like a fish out of water. Shortly after the first dresses had been completed and started to be placed in her room, jewelry appeared as well and Y/N had refrained from wearing it. The jewels were magnificent more that anything she had seen before, she debated if the mating bond had somehow made Eris aware of the things that she would like when emeralds and dark amethysts, baroque pearls and aquamarines had started to appear. She huffed exasperated and took an elaborate pair of gold earrings with rose-coloured pearls, they matched her dress and hopefully counterbalanced the simplicity of her hair.

She picked up one of the cats that had mastered enough bravery to go find her deep into the labyrinth that was the palace when she had disappeared from the kitchens. She had tried to dissuade them from playing with the canopy of her bed but the finely embroidered fabric beared the signs of their mischievous claws. Willow had also found her way into her room, the hound looked silly with the cats playing with her tail while she observed the mate of her master move around the chamber.

The cat in her arms immediately started purring, Y/N had called the fluffy creature Luna, after the feline decided to live constantly gravitating around her.

She considered wearing a pale green mantle but decided otherwise, it was one of those rare days when the sun shone over the Autumn Court and she was determined to make the best of it.

Y/N left her chamber and started heading in direction of the gardens, she knew that she would find Eris waiting for her. It was starting to become a habit to promenade together around the gardens in the afternoon, her initial shyness had soon become curiosity and she had realised that conversing with her mate was quite enjoyable. When the mating bond had snapped, it had been a long time since Y/N had a long and significant conversation with another and now in three months she felt as if she had never talked so much ever before in her entire life. During the busy days that kept Eris in his office she usually went to curl up in one of the sofas there, with a book, silently thinking about why for some strange reason she did want to be in his presence anyway, even in silence when he tried to disentangle whatever problem the Court was facing.

He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, his attention to the hounds enthusiastically wagging their tails, happy to be in the presence of their master. He looked up, feeling her presence, and offered a warm smile. She would never say it out loud, not after knowing him for such a short amount of time, but his smile made her think about the calm days of Autumn she had often daydreamed about in the past, when she had been wandering around the others courts always with a book in hand, reading the descriptions of warm coloured leaves and bonfires.

Eris reached for her hand as she approached him and gently kissed her knuckles before intertwining their fingers.

"Your grace is brightening my day," he murmured.

Y/N smiled at him, hoping to control the blush that she knew was making its way to her cheeks. She blamed the magic bond between them for how she had catched herself thinking about him in the last few days. In truth she had been relieved when she had realised how gentle he was with her, always making sure of her comfort; but she had seen the fire that was his power as much as it was his personality, the firmness and confidence he displayed in ruling his Court. The night before she had surprised herself thinking about how it would feel to kiss him, to have that gentleness turn into the fire she knew he had in him, to feel his hands and his lips fervently and hungrily explore her body. She had quickly put her absurd thoughts aside and it had been almost easy, but now she was walking next to him and it was impossible to ignore the warmth radiating from his body, making her remember every thought she had the night before. Y/N was tempted to snatch her hand away from his, but that would probably rise questions and maybe erase all of the progress they had made.

Eris guided her to a wisteria covered gazebo overlooking the woods that surrounded the Forest House.

"I was under the assumption that you had a meeting with your advisors this afternoon," said Y/N, not that she was upset to be there, but still the note she had received from him hours before had made her perplexed and a little guilty.

Eris grinned "No, the meeting had strangely disappeared from my schedule". She refrained from rolling her eyes, she didn't want him to ignore his duties just to entertain her, she didn't feel worthy of such bother.

He pressed a kiss to her temple as if he had sensed the tone of her thoughts. "Since the first time I saw you in this gardens, secretly smiling at every little plant as if they were your friends you had become the light of my days. And I will make sure to demonstrate that for as long as you will allow me," he murmured and then he added with a tender expression "Stop doubting your importance to me, my mate".

Y/N didn't respond, she looked away and started walking slowly in direction of the fountain, trying to hide her flushed cheeks and the troubled look in her eyes. She ignored the water and entered a path to the rose garden. She could feel Eris' eyes on her, studying her reactions and the awkwardness she had not presented in weeks. She asked herself what would he do if she broke their silent harmony of friendly hours spended talking and polite touches, they were mates but they acted like nothing more than two strangers who had recently started a discreet friendship which was also not far from the truth, but did he want her in the same way she had surprised herself wanting him lately? Or were they just trying to be civil after a superior force had pushed them together?

Y/N looked down pretending to find the falling of the leaves over the gardens interesting.

She did not notice Eris taking a rose from one of the bushes that were all around them until he brushed the flower against her arm and handed it to her.

Y/N didn't want to look at him, knowing that all of her thoughts were perfectly readable in her eyes, instead she leaned back, knowing that she would be met with his warmth. He chuckled when her back rested against his chest, his arms surrounding her waist.

"What did I do right to deserve such a treat?" whispered Eris in her ear.

Y/N shook her head and turned around, shyly leaving a delicate kiss on his lips and then observing his reaction, instinctively expecting him to laugh at her or to tell her that it was a mistake. The conviction of being unwanted and undesirable was stronger than her, deeply engraved into her heart by a life of solitude. She felt tears threatening to escape her self control.

But before she could regret her actions and run away, Eris' lips were on hers, hungrily kissing, tasting, savouring her with a passion that made her knees weak. When they broke away from the kiss she noticed tears in his eyes as well, and a fire that took her breath away. No one had ever looked at her that way and she was sure that no one would ever want her as fervently as Eris did.

They stayed there for a long time, both made speechless by the raw sense of belonging that had rushed over them, created by the mating bond and by something more. Neither of them had the courage to say it out loud yet, irrationally scared to shatter the enchanted silence of the rose garden with words. Without them noticing, love had made its way into their lives and it felt stronger than magic.

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fieldofdaisiies · 8 months ago

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azriel x eris | 5,2k words | warnings: none, wording might be a little vulgar in some parts | masterlist

“You are my mate,” Eris repeats.

Unquenchable desire and longing start to brew within him. It is all Eris feels, despite his pain, when his hooded gaze roams over Azriel.

But the feeling dims slightly when he watches his mate’s expression. There is nothing on Azriel’s face. Not a hint of shock, or surprise. Not even anger.

Nonchalance, or is it ignorance? Whatever it is, it makes Eris slightly angry. And deep within his heart it hurts. The prince‘s lips part in an attempt to vent his displeasure about Azriel’s ignorance, but the shadowsinger is faster.

“I know.” Azriel’s velvety, cool voice sends a lick of heat through Eris, stimulating every small inch of his body.

“Since when do you know?” Eris tries to sit up further so that he can get on eye-level with Azriel. “How did you find out? When did you find out?”

The shadowsinger’s shoulders droop, his chin lowering to his chest as well. He gives his head a little shake. “I‘ve never known for sure, but I started to feel a tug on my chest after rescuing you from Briallyn. I started to feel it more often and whenever someone mentioned your name, it got more intense and when—fuck!”

Azriel slams his hand over his face, then drags it down.

“It fucking tore me apart. I felt your pain through the bond, Eris. When Beron…when he hurt you, I felt it. That’s when I knew for sure. That’s when I knew you are my mate.”

His body fully on his own accord leans toward the Vanserra male, forehead resting against Eris‘. “I felt it all, and I knew what it meant. Your pain was so strong, that in that moment I couldn’t care less about what it meant to be mated to my arch nemesis. I only had to find you.” The corner of his mouth kicks up despite the persistent pain within his heart.

Even Eris has to chuckle at what Azriel said, the noise soft and purely male, his breath warm when it brushes Azriel’s skin.

“I needed to get to you. To check on you. To take care of you.” Another tear slips out of Azriel’s eye but he tries to blink it away. He isn’t fast enough and so Eris catches it on his thumb and then brings his lips to his mates.

“I‘ve known since the damn High Lord’s meeting.”

Azriel’s eyes open quickly. “For so long.”

“Just like you, just like my mate, it was hard for me to accept it.” He cracks a smile and his cheeks warm at the mention of mate. “I‘ve never allowed myself to accept it. Or even entertain the thought of what it means.” He brushes his fingers over Azriel‘s cheek and kisses him again.

“There is so much between us — a past, hate, differences, hurt, regret, a whole lot of things we said to each other, words that can‘t be taken back.”

“You don’t have to accept the bond,” Azriel quickly says and it is almost like a bolt of burning pain spears into his heart. His soul. The hurt spreads, and his chest feels heavy.

“I‘ve never said that I don’t want to accept the bond — Hel, I haven’t even entertained the thought of accepting it yet.” Eris shakes his head. “I want a mating bond. I want someone at my side who I can love unconditionally. Who loves me unconditionally. Someone who I can consult in court matters and who provides me with the necessary distraction and comfort once court business is over for the day. I want someone who—”

“Cares.” Azriel shuts his mouth and his eyes.

“Yes.” Eris‘ voice is barely above a whisper. Tentatively, he leans in, closing his mouth over Azriel’s lips, kissing him deeply. “Say that you want me,” Eris mumbles before he kisses the corner of Azriel’s mouth.

“I want you, you bastard, and you know it,” Azriel groans. “I desire you. I need you.” Their lips are sealed once more.

They lose track of time. Of space. Minutes pass. Or hours, days weeks, years. It doesn’t matter. Everything fades into significance for as long as their lips touch. Only when out of breath, do they part and Azriel straightens up. He moves to change his position on the bed, and Eris' heart drops – Azriel is going to leave already.

“Stay.” Eris‘ hand instinctively curls around the spymaster’s wrist, feeling the marred skin against his soft palm. “Stay with me tonight. You can leave before the sun rises. But for now. Please, stay.” Eris swallows thickly. “Please.”

A flicker of hesitation passes over Azriel’s face, and is soon replaced by unease. Worry. The shadowsinger doesn’t have to say anything, it is all in his eyes, and Eris brushes his thumb over the back of Azriel’s hand. “Not for sex.”

The shadowsinger lifts his chin, and the look he wears is far from his usual expression. There is no cold in it, no indifference. His cheeks are rosy and his lips form a sheepish smile.

“Huh?” Azriel raises a brow, but then has to chuckle. “This is not where my worry comes from. What if Beron catches us here, he will hurt you–”

“He can’t find me here – can’t find us here. This place is protected by my magic.”

Azriel finds himself nodding slowly, accepting this answer. They should truly be safe here.

“But concerning what you said…” He clears his throat. “I have never been with a male before,” he admits silently. “Hel, I‘ve not even kissed a male before you.”

“Good,” Eris says and his voice edges on a growl.

Azriel’s cock tightens at the noise, but he keeps holding Eris‘ gaze, despite his lids now feeling a little heavier.

“It does something for my pride to be your first.” He smirks, but the expression fades quickly, his hand clasping Azriel’s tightly. “Only if you allow me to, of course.”

The shadowsinger leans in again, hating that there is so much distance between them, his forehead resting against Eris‘ once more, their noses brushing. “I have hated you so much, for such a long time — or that was what I thought.” His eyes close, voice heavy with emotion. “But I have to be honest with myself now, and let me tell you, there‘s nothing I would want more than that.”

Azriel‘s lips brush the prince‘s. Only swiftly and then his lips curl. “If I stay here tonight, can you hold me in your arms?”

Eris‘ body stiffens, and his throat works on a swallow. “Yes, whatever you want, Azriel.”

The spymaster removes Truth-Teller, carefully laying it down on the ground beside the bed, then he strips out of his boots, placing them beside his hunting knife. He climbs onto the bed – this time completely–, his heart beating in his throat when Eris makes room for him, moving carefully due the still fresh wounds and newly-opened scars on his body. Eris lies down on his side, and Azriel curls up against him, head fitting in right beneath Eris‘ chin, the heir’s arm sliding around the spymaster’s waist.

“Your hair…” Eris inhales a deep breath.

“Yes?” Azriel shifts closer, so close their bodies are melding, fronts pressed against one another, Eris‘ hand resting where Azriel’s wing is connected to his body.

“You smell nice.” Eris laughs softly and it makes his chest vibrate against Azriel’s head. The shadowsinger soaks up the noise, the deep, hoarse sound and revels in it. He loves it and slowly, despite the massive pile of problems that lay between them, his heart seems to have arrived.

He has never been held like that. Not since he was a little boy.

Cassian has often draped an arm over his body, holding him tightly. But only after they had passed out somewhere in the House of Wind, after a night full of liquor, and getting absolutely drunk. It was never in a romantic way…

Azriel is nervously nibbling on his lower lip because he can’t quite place his emotions. This should be weird and odd and strange, and he shouldn’t enjoy it so much. Not when the male in whose arms he finds himself lying is Eris Vanserra. But it feels so damn right, his soul singing the most beautiful melody, warming his chest from the inside out, the bond’s golden threads finally being able to reach for their counterpart.

“You think we can make–” Eris clears his throat. “You think there can truly be something between us?”

“More than secret meetings and kisses in the dark?”

Eris brushes his lips over Azriel’s head, his hold tightening. “Mhm.”

“I don’t know how to tell my family,” Azriel answers honestly, his face still buried in Eris' chest. He can’t look at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to bear the look in his eyes. The possible hurt there. The potential sadness.

It is almost like Eris can read his mind. Warm fingers curl around Azriel’s chin and he is forced to look up at his mate. Despite his worries, he doesn’t find hurt in Eris’ eyes. Only understanding. Sympathy. Warmth.

“You don’t need to tell them. Not now. We can see what there truly is between us and if it works out. If our desire is enough to become something more. To turn into something. Something that is love. You can always tell them later.”

Their gazes lock. “You have doubts about this bond? About…us being able to love each other?”

Eris caresses Azriel’s cheek, tenderness etched into every line of his face. He leans in and kisses the shadowsinger‘s brow. “A lot has happened between us. A lot of bad things, Azriel. It is not so easy, we won’t just fall in love with each other and forget everything that has happened in the past.”

Eris closes his eyes when they start to line with tears. “I‘m scared that there will forever be something between us…an obstacle we can’t overcome. I haven’t allowed myself to even consider liking you for so long, and—”

“We can manage this.” Azriel places his palm flat against his mate’s chest. “Not a long time ago, I would have never even thought about you and I being anything else other than enemies. I would have never considered kissing you, or lying in your arms…things change. ”

Azriel pushes up on his elbow and hence leaves Eris‘ embrace. But only half, the prince‘s hand falls to his hip, staying there.

“Now you are all and everything I can think about. All I want, and need. I think about you all the time and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t bear the feeling of being away from you for too long. That’s why I was constantly sneaking around in Autumn.” Azriel’s chest lifts with a deep inhale. “It all reached its peak when I felt your pain today…it shredded my heart into pieces and all I could think about was getting to you as fast as possible.”

A stray tear escapes the corner of Eris’ eye. “You saved me.”

“No, Eris, you saved me.”

The heir’s brows furrow, but before he can continue, Azriel offers him an explanation. “I felt like I was falling into an endless pit of darkness, but now that there is the possibility of this,”– using his hand he motions between them– “, between us turning into something more, into something beautiful, some light is filling my life again. And I know it will change everything and I know explaining to my family won’t be easy, but…”

Something akin to a breathy sob leaves Azriel. Eris digs his fingertips into his waist, his lower lip trembling.

“I want to explore this bond with you. I want to talk with you about everything that has happened between us and overcome every obstacle that has been put into our path, Eris. I want us to share stories of our childhood, our fears and our hopes and dreams,” Azriel says and slides his scarred hand to Eris' throat, fingers curling. “I want you. And I will forever hold onto the hope of us eventually falling in love.”

“Azriel,” Eris starts, but his voice cracks. “I want you too.” He makes them roll over, and as he settles on top of Azriel, he grinds his hips against the other’s and it elicits the most beautiful, male noise from the spymaster.

Their lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss, teeth clacking, hands roaming and exploring the other’s body. The first brush of Eris‘ tongue against Azriel’s, makes the spymaster feel alive, electric. Eris tastes like firewood, earthy and musky. Like charred wood mingled with the subtle yet spicy sweetness of cinnamon. Like a flickering fireplace on a crisp evening, smokey and warm. Eris tastes like home.

Flames of need burn beneath his skin with every flick of Eris‘ tongue. Azriel’s balls draw tight and he allows himself to groan, the sound pure, and primal when it slips through his lips.

At the noise, purely male smugness fills Eris and he grazes his teeth along Azriel’s lip, then lower to his jaw, and his neck. Letting his tongue glide over Azriel’s skin he drinks in his scent, moaning when the smell seeps into his nostrils and infuses his mind.

But he can’t stay away from the shadowsinger’s lips for too long — they are too inviting and the taste of Azriel too beguiling.

Azriel’s hand glides down the solid, corded back of the heir, and when his palm smoothes over Eris‘ rear, he squeezes, feeling how his muscles tense.

“Mine.” Eris flicks his tongue against Azriel’s. The shadowsinger’s hips jerk in answer, back bowing slightly, wings twitching and a strangled groan leaves his throat.

“Surely no sex?” Azriel teases, voice breathy and hoarse.

Eris‘ teeth sink into his skin. “No,” he growls, “because when I fuck you for the first time I want us to do it in a proper bed.”

He moves off Azriel, and pulls the stunned shadowsinger flush to his chest, their bodies perfectly fitting against one another. “Sleep now, Shadowsinger.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Eris has always been pale. Very pale. As white as the walls in the Moonstone Palace.

But right now, as Azriel gazes at him, his lips involuntarily form a grimace — Eris is almost translucent. Cold sweat coats his forehead and his limbs tremble.

This is not good, Azriel knows this. This is actually really bad, his bloodstream must have collapsed or is close to doing so.

"Eris," Azriel whispers, dragging his scarred fingers down the side of Eris‘ face. "Wake."

The Autumn Court heir only shifts, his lids barely opening, but his lips form a lazy smile. "Azriel." Eris‘ voice is so soft, so full of…love, Azriel‘s heart can’t barely take it.

"Is this a dream or is this real?"

"Can’t it be both," Azriel answers, smiling at the memory — months ago he gave him that very same answer.

"This time it feels real," Eris hums and his eyes open. He looks at Azriel through a heavy-lidded gaze, chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

"Because it is real." Azriel wants to lean in, seal their lips together, but the moment his forehead touches Eris‘ hot and sweat-covered skin, he is reminded of the prince‘s condition. His alarm bells ring anew.

"When did you last eat?"

Eris doesn’t answer and so Azriel moves his hand lower, to Eris‘ shoulder, shaking him softly. "Eris, answer my question."

"I don’t remember."

"You need to eat, and drink."

"I need to hold you, Azriel," Eris answers matter-of-factly.

To make his point clear, Eris tightens his hold on Azriel, but the shadowsinger has none of it. Eris needs food and water, and that within the next seconds.

So, he lets his head fall into the crook of Eris‘ shoulder, and kisses his skin. Simultaneously his hand glides down to Eris waist, then to his backside.

"Eris," he rasps, and the Autumn Court heir‘s hips buck in response. "You need to eat!"

With that Azriel pushes up, slipping out of Eris’ hold that has turned a little sluggish.

"Can I find food here?"

Water he knows is here, he has cleaned Eris‘ wounds earlier. But food! Hopefully, Eris has something stored here.

Eris doesn’t answer immediately, he only shifts on the bed, pinning Azriel with a look. "I‘ll eat tomorrow."

"I won’t be discussing that." Azriel pads toward the make-shift kitchen, and on a dusty shelf within one of the weathered cupboards he truly finds a stale piece of bread.

"You are bossy," he hears Eris say behind him, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "It‘s not like you don’t like it."

Azriel’s chuckling, though, is cut short.

"Do you like me?"

Azriel almost drops the piece of bread and the glass of water in his other hand. His eyes widen and for a moment he only stares at the heir. It is all he can do, but then he breathes in deeply and squares his shoulders and walks toward the bed.

"I wouldn’t be taking care of you if I didn’t like you," he answers in his usual cold and emotionless voice and sits down on the bed, handing Eris the glass of water. "I don’t know when loathing turned into liking, but—"

"I think this is what the bond does." Eris takes a sip, then another one and then gulps down the whole glass.

"I knew you were thirsty," Azriel says, almost a little triumphantly. "But no, I don’t think so. Not entirely at least."

Eris pushes up on his elbow. "What do you mean?" The only explanation he has ever had for liking Azriel was the bond.

"With the bond’s involvement, I started to think more about you, reflect about things you said to me, I said to you, how you reacted. I considered our interactions a little more deeply, and I slowly started to understand you better."

Eris‘ throat bobs when he swallows, and with all the strength he has left in him, he pushes up on his hand so he is on eye-level with Azriel. The shadowsinger’s scarred hands fumble with the piece of bread, tearing off a smaller piece, but Eris closes his hand over Azriel’s, stopping him.

"I can’t accept food from you," he tells him. "Not yet at least." Eris lifts their connected hands to his lips, kissing each of Azriel’s scarred knuckles and awareness dawns on the spymaster…

"I will eat when I return to the Forest House tomorrow morning, I’ll be fine."

Slowly, Azriel begins to nod. "Promise me?"

Eris slides his hand down Azriel’s arm, up to his shoulder, pulling him in. "I promise," he whispers and kisses him so softly that tears start to build up in the shadowsinger’s eyes. "Have you had someone to look out for you when you were a child, Azriel?"

The shadowsinger shakes his head, then rests his forehead against Eris‘. "For a long time I didn’t. My mother did when I was very later, but she couldn’t always take care of me. Many years later, Rhys and Cass."

Eris sighs. "It’s the same with my mother." His eyes close. "You have no idea how much I appreciate what you are doing for me right now. How much…what it means to me. I have always been alone after he…hurt me. I’ve never had anyone to take care of me, to tend to my wounds apart from healers. I will forever be grateful that you are here tonight, and that you didn’t leave me alone with the darkness. With the demons in my mind."

His lips brush Azriel’s once again. A single tear slips out of the spymaster’s eye, and he curls one arm around Eris, careful of the wounds that still have not fully healed.

With a voice, heavy with emotion, the shadowsinger says, "After the ball in the Hewn City you asked me about my scars."

Eris’ nod is shallow, and Azriel can feel his patience. He won’t push him, lets him find his time to open up.

"My step-brothers wanted to test my Illyrian healing powers. They poured oil over my hands and set them on fire."

He holds onto his mate, Eris‘ scent lingering in his nose is everything he needs to calm himself.

"Are they dead?"

"They have been taken care of, yes!"

"Fucking beasts," Eris growls. “I would behead them all myself if they still were.” A lethal fire starts to glow in Eris’ eyes that tells Azriel that he truly means it.

But his demeanour shifts, a softer, warmer expression passing over his face, and in a more composed voice, he adds, "Together we can learn to no longer fear fire, to find beauty in it and not only see the haunting memories and ugly side of it."

"Together." Azriel smiles, almost a little sheepishly, and a hum vibrates from his throat. "You shouldn’t be scared of your own powers."

Eris’ chin drops to his chest, and he huffs coldly. “"I’m scared these powers will one day turn me into him, that I one day will be the same monstrous and cruel beast my father has turned into."

"You won’t!" Azriel’s voice is sure and stern, loud. “I know this.”

But Eris shakes his head. “You don’t, Azriel. He doomed my soul. There is a darkness within me I can’t always fight. I have bad thoughts and sometimes act on them. So what if this darkness will one day win. What if I—"

Azriel claims his mate’s mouth in a deep kiss that quickly turns from passionate to ravishing. It becomes a dance of tongues, a symphony of gasps and soft groans, when their lips meld. "I won’t let this happen," Azriel assures him, nipping at the corner of Eris‘ mouth. Slowly he lowers himself to bed, stretching out his wings, the ends draped over the edge of the bed. He brings Eris with him, making sure the heir carefully lies down on the not so sensitive parts of his wings.Eris nuzzles into him.

"I won‘t let it get this far. Even if we don’t accept this bond, I will make sure of it. I will always be there to remind you that deep within your chest you are good – that you have a good heart, Eris Vanserra."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“It‘s still dark.” Eris kisses the spot right below Azriel’s ear and feels how the shadowsinger shudders in reaction. “We still have time.” His mouth opens a little wider, and he nips at his skin. His lips slide to Azriel’s throat, and the shadowsinger‘s pulse leaps when Eris finds the spot right above the collar of his Illyrian leathers.

Eris pulls back with a smirk, slumping back against the pillow.

Azriel drops his boot, shifting back into the bed, lying down next to Eris once again, his lips curling when he takes in Eris’ drowsy expression. He wants to wake up to the sight of it every damn day of his life, then kiss the life out of the heir, and stay tangled between the sheets until breakfast is ready, fucking or slow lovemaking – everything.

“What are you thinking about?” Eris hums, his hooded gaze dropping to Azriel’s lips.

“All the wicked ways in which I want you to claim me.” Azriel grins at him and Eris knows he has never seen a more beautiful sight. His lips part, but no words leave him. He truly is too stunned about Azriel’s honesty, and what he said. And his beauty.

“Share them with me!” Eris places his hand against the side of Azriel’s throat, feeling his pulse quicken beneath his warm skin. He gently brushes his thumb over the stubble on Azriel’s jaw. “Tell me.”

Azriel snickers, and lowers his gaze. “What can I say…I have never sucked a High Lord’s cock before.” He meets Eris’ gaze again with a smirk on his lips.

The future High Lord grins, his eyes lighting up. “What a coincidence – I’ve never had a shadowsinger suck my cock before.”

Both of them have to laugh at that, their souls feeling so much lighter all of a sudden, their smiles radiant despite what is happening outside the confines of this hut.

“I have also never touched wings before,” Eris drawls. “Are the rumours true that they are very sensitive?”

Azriel’s dick hardens at the mention of his wings and the possibility of having Eris play with them. He gives him no immediate answer, only chases the prince’s lips, kissing him deeply, his leg wrapping around Eris thigh. “You shall find out when we accept the bond.”

“Mhm, I cannot wait.”

In the moments that follow, they are smiling at each other, drawing soft circles onto the other’s skin, their eyes not once breaking contact. Sadly, a flicker of gloominess passes over Eris’ face a moment later, and although he tries to play it down, hide it, Azriel has noticed it.

“Tell me,” he whispers and Eris understands without having to ask what Azriel means.

“Despite this here feeling so damn good right now, it is so hard,” Eris mumbles, “to accept what I want…what I want from you.” His throat feels too dry.

Azriel lifts a scarred hand, resting his warm palm against Eris‘ equally warm face. “If you don’t want a bond, if all you want from this relation—from me is something physical, if all you want is sex, then I‘m alright with that.” His gaze is downcast to where his limbs are entangled with Eris‘, the prince’s hand resting on his thigh.

“Azriel,” Eris whispers, and pauses until Azriel’s gaze flicks to his. “That is the problem.” A small smile tips up the corner of his lips. “I want physical intimacy, and I definitely blame the bond for why I want you so damn much, but I want more than that. You are my mate, and this is something rare. We are lucky to be two chosen ones who are granted a bond.”

His hand strokes up on Azriel’s thigh until he rests it on his waist. “I want this bond with you, despite what lies between us, despite our past. I want to see if we eventually fall in love, if love has a chance to blossom within our hearts. I want to wake up with you in my arms, kiss you before we fall asleep, hold your hand, make love to you all throughout the night, but—”

Azriel’s eyes line with tears, his breath catching. “But?” He swallows around the lump that has formed in his throat, probably the size of a peach.

“But I want to give us time. I can’t—we can’t accept the bond immediately. We need time to talk, to figure things out, to fall in love slowly, but I want to give it a try, if it is what you want.”

His lips coast over Azriel’s forehead, leaving a slightly damp trail behind.

“I want this,” the spymaster whispers and his shadows visibly relax and then start to swirl, almost like they are dancing over Azriel and then also Eris.

A few more soft kisses and sensual touches are exchanged until Azriel has to return to Velaris. He has a lot to share with his family, and there is not enough time to do so, anyway.

“Before you leave, there is something I need to ask of you, Azriel.”

The shadowsinger fixes Truth-Teller, his eyes lingering on his hunting knife for a moment longer until he looks up. “Everything.”

There is gratitude on Eris’ face, but also fear. “My mother needs to be taken away from the Autumn Court. She isn’t able to leave alone, she is strong and powerful, but–”

“I’ll get her out! I will make sure she gets to Night safely.”

“Thank you.” Eris bows his head, his hand placed over his heart.

“Don’t thank me. Not for something like this. It’s the least I can do to help you.” Azriel closes the distance between them, cradling Eris face in his hands, kissing his forehead. “After all, she will one day be my mother-in-law.”

Both males have to smile, the bond becoming more and move alive between their souls.

“You are truly not half as bad as you make everyone believe, Eris.” Azriel rests his forehead against his mate’s who fists his Illyrian leathers, holding on tightly. Then he huffs loudly. “I remember when Morrigan told me the same.”

Azriel’s brows lift, but before he can ask what Eris means, the Autumn Court male decides to share the whole story, the whole truth about him and Morrigan, with Azriel, putting all the cards on the table. It has been so long, it is finally time to share it with someone.

Azriel is surprised to say the least when Eris is done and also a bit disappointed that it is Eris whom he finds out everything from and not from Mor. (Eris didn’t share the details about Mor’s sexuality, he has no idea if she has already shared this part of her and knows it is not his place to out her.)

There is so much more to talk about, so many stories to share, but time isn’t on their side.

“Leave now, or your High Lord will start asking questions,” Eris urges.

“I have to tell them, anyway.” Azriel caresses Eris’ cheek. “I want to tell them. Maybe not everything immediately, but I need to tell them eventually.” Eris nods in understanding. “Don’t pressure yourself.”

Holding each other tight and close, they stay like this for a few minutes longer until it is really time for Azriel to leave. He can’t waste anymore time. The inner circle needs to be let in on everything Eris has told Azriel about ending Beron’s life and reign. And the rescue of the Lady of the Autumn Court and her shelter in the Night Court. Rhysand has to know so he can start preparing everything – for the turmoil that may erupt within Prythian and Imala’s stay in their court.

As they step outside, the dogs are still alert, keeping watch just like in the hours before. Azriel had already told Eris about them, how they had helped him find Eris, how they sat down to keep watch. The prince feels incredibly thankful and proud when he sees his loyal dogs and can’t help but smile.

Cerberus, the biggest dog, tilts his head and lets out a quiet bark, but he doesn't move from his spot. Eris nods back at him, "Thank you."

Then he tentatively reaches for Azriel’s hand. “Thank you. For everything, Azriel.” He smiles at the shadowsinger, and it feels so right and so good. Azriel returns the expression, curling his fingers around Eris’ hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

Eris bows his head. “I’ll see you.”

Azriel moves away from him, walking down the two wooden steps until his feet touch the mossy forest ground. He sighs and stops, his hand sliding over Truth-Teller.

Eris waits, wanting to watch how Azriel spreads his wings and takes off, or disappears into his swirling shadows. But neither happens.

Slowly, Azriel turns back to Eris, locking his gaze with the Autumn Court heir. Almost like in slow motion, he unsheathes Truth-Teller, holding it in front of his body. “There’s one more thing, Eris.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @berryzxx

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

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honeysunai · 1 year ago

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— 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

here is the masterlist of my reader-insert imagines, sorted by fandom, character, and dated to keep it chronological !

( last updated may. 23rd, 2024 )

— 𝐀 𝐍 𝐈 𝐌 𝐄

Keishin Ukai (Haikyuu) :

✧ Sick games ; Practice makes perfect ; The Aftermath ; The night before — (Hiatus) (Febuary 2022)

The new employee of the Yue store across the street from the Sakanoshita market is also the new Assistant coach of Nekoma’s Volleyball team and the nemesis of Karasuno’s coach.

Kyoya Ootori (Ouran High School Host Club) :

✧ Starting today, you’re a host! ; Attack of lady manager! ; The dinner date ; We lost Honey! ; Sun and thunder ; The Perfect Boyfriend List ; Operation : Make her happy ; Test of courage ; Under the Mistletoe

✧ tag list hostess

As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

Nishinoya Yu (Haikyuu) :

✧ Bad Idea — (Febuary 2022)

Your first late night date with your classmate Yū Nishinoya was going so good until you both saw red and blue light shine through the gates of the park you were at.

Suguru Geto (Jujutsu Kaisen) :

✧ My salvation — (March 2023)

When you first stepped into the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College as a teenager, you first fell head over heels over Suguru Geto. As the years went on, he chose a path of evil and violence that you couldn’t follow him to which led you to a heartbreak. Years later, you became a teacher at that same school and you weren’t expecting to ever see him again and you didn’t think an old flame could spark again even in the midst of war.

— 𝐃 𝐑 𝐀 𝐆 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄

Cullen Rutherford

✧ Missing you — (January 2024)

During the two years after Corypheus' defeat, Lavellan had to leave for months on end to seek her allies to keep the Inquisition afloat. Amidst the diplomatic endeavors, a letter from Cullen finds its way to her.

— 𝐁 𝐀 𝐋 𝐃 𝐔 𝐑 ' 𝐒 𝐆 𝐀 𝐓 𝐄

Gale Dekarios

✧ Better Tomorrow — (January 2024)

During his travels to find a cure for the illithid parasites, Gale encountered an old flame in Baldur's Gate.

— 𝐀 𝐂 𝐎 𝐓 𝐀 𝐑

Lucien Vanserra

✧ Making things right — (May 2024)

You are Lucien's mate and neither of you are happy about it. So during one night you finally decide to see eye to eye.

Cassian

✧ Lost Lovers — (July 2024)

For months you tried to stop the bloodshed you High Lord wanted so much and you dreaded the day you would be forced to march into battle to meet your lover, but it was inevitable.

#honeysunai masterlist #masterlist #anime masterlist #ohshc kyoya #ohshc #jjk x reader #haikyuu #dragon age inquisition #dragon age cullen #acotar #acotar series

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shadowqueenjude · 11 months ago

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SJM Characters as Half-Bloods (PJO)

Feel free to add characters as you see fit, I'm only doing ones I am sure of!

ACOTAR: Lucien Vanserra: Apollo Cabin Eris Vanserra: Hermes Cabin Nesta Archeron: Athena Cabin Elain Archeron: Demeter Cabin Tarquin: Poseidon Cabin Cassian: Ares Cabin Nuan: Hephaestus Cabin Mor: Aphrodite Cabin Kallias: Boreas Thesan: Aesculapius Tamlin: absolutely Roman, so if they had cabins...Mars. Azriel: Hades Cabin Helion: Helios if he was still alive lol (pretty sure he was based off of him anyway) TOG: Lorcan Salvaterre: Hades Cabin Elide Lochan: Hecate Cabin Yrene Towers: Aesculapius Dorian Havilliard: Apollo Cabin Chaol Westfall: absolutely Roman so if they had cabins... Bellona. CC: Tristan Flynn: Dionysus Cabin Declan Emmet: Athena Cabin Hunt Athalar: Zeus Cabin Tharion Ketos: Aphrodite Cabin Ruhn Danaan: Born a child of Athena but disowned for not being "intelligent" enough or "ambitious" enough and the eternal maiden Hestia takes him in as her protege. With help from @decadentpostnacho Edit: @rin-u-pos made an excellent suggestion for Feyre Archeron: Nemesis cabin and later joins the Hunters of Artemis.

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icey--stars · 1 year ago

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Part 2: 5.2k words, Azriel's POV

Series Index

A story of finding solace in another. Azriel finds himself needing danger in a peaceful world, and what is better than the Autumn Court, ruled by his old nemesis, Eris Vanserra?

a/n: hehehe

WARNINGS: alcohol (not extreme)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Azriel

Eris was wearing his usual jewelry. Three rings per hand, all varying in style and make. The only one that ever caught his attention was the one that was a nice shiny gold and had little black swirls going all over it. A plain, simple ring to anyone with an eye for jewelry, but Azriel liked it. Though the fact it belonged to Eris made him want to burn it with the pointer finger it was attached to. At least today, Eris on his left ear, had a bunch of little pin earrings: a leaf, a tree, and a shield. In his right ear, however, the male had a bright red ruby jutting from the main piercing in his lope, with a thin gold chain going up to the point of his ear, where it was attached with a gold cuff.

Cauldron- why was he being so distracted by Eris’s jewelry of all things? Was he really that bored? Maybe it was that itch making him do it– wanting to ignore Eris for longer than is polite to anger the male. That made sense. Even if he also couldn’t keep his eyes off the wavy, red hair that swept just past Eris’s revealed collarbones.

“The Night Court,” Azriel snapped at last. “Is perfectly fulfilling.”

Eris lifted one of those copper brows, those amber eyes staring directly into his. “Seems unlikely,” he said, tone crawling. With the opening of the High Lord’s mouth, he smelled the familiar aroma of cigarettes. But according to all known sources– Eris didn’t smoke. He must’ve just decided to hang out with someone who was smoking.

Azriel scoffed at his words, blood pumping faster as he felt anger rising in his veins. Just what he was looking for.

“Tell me, shadowsinger, why are you here?” Eris asked.

He felt like snapping back some childish response like ‘because I can be’ or something similar, but he knew he shouldn’t. It’d be too obvious he was looking for a fight then, and it’d leave him feeling unfulfilled in the long run.

“Rhys sent me,” he lied. Rhys didn’t even have a damn clue he was here.

Eris lifted one of those auburn brows, as if skeptical. “Then tell me, what does the High Lord of the Night Court want with me now? Our bargain ended as soon as Beron died, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Azriel curled his hand into a fist. “I don’t have to tell you anything.” Wrong, technically, since Eris had caught him, he could ask all the questions he wanted. Being a high rank from an opposing court, allied or not, he was required to answer some basic questions to keep the peace.

Eris reached a hand over to toy with one of his rings. The one that Azriel liked. He tried not to stare at the pale fingers curling around that gold band. “Hmm,” Eris hummed, a small smirk on his face. “You look a bit uptight, shadowsinger. Care to explain why?”

“No,” Azriel ground out, gritting his teeth.

Eris’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re no fun at all, come on now, won’t you at least try to have a little fun?”

“You aren’t exactly my definition of fun,” Azriel retorted, crossing his arms with his hands still tightly wound as fists. He was seething at Eris’s behavior. Absolutely raging. It was exactly what he wanted.

“Aw,” Eris cooed. “I’m hurt. Honestly, we’ve had so much fun together!”

Absolutely Cauldron-awful meetings more like it. Eris had enjoyed toying with him, and reaching out to curl a finger along his shadows or smirking when Azriel attempted to gauge his reaction to something. Eris was just irritating. The siphons on his hands were glowing slightly from that anger and pent up energy and anxiety.

“Sure,” He replied at last.

Eris rolled his eyes dramatically. “Tell me, shadowsinger, why are you here? So uptight, and angry.”

“You don’t know that,” Azriel retorted.

“Do you honestly think I’m dumb enough to not see your fists and glowing rocks? I was a general of the army, Azriel. I know exactly what work you do, and exactly how to do it myself.”

“Doubtful, and they’re called siphons,” Azriel retorted, growling out his response like it was a piece of rotten meat.

Eris chuckled, but the smile on his face didn’t crinkle up at his eyes, showing the fakeness of the entire gesture. “You certainly can avoid a question like the plague, I’ll give you that. But, I’m growing bored of your games. Tell me why you’re entering the Autumn Court.”

“You think you can order me around?” Azriel taunted. “I only listen to Rhys.”

“Clearly,” Eris said, rolling those amber eyes. “Perhaps I should tell him about your idiotic behavior at dinner then.”

Dinner? Was Eris really going to plan a dinner with Rhysand just to complain about him? What a wasted effort. Eris would be better off putting effort into planning dinner with some continental kingdom rather than Rhys. Azriel had suffered enough dinners in Hewn City for “keeping allies close” enough to last his entire immortal life. Rhys had insisted he be there of course, and Azriel technically had gleaned a lot of information from them, but he could go without another.

“Put your effort somewhere else,” Azriel replied. “If you hate me that much, perhaps I should come here more often.”

Eris scoffed, eyes going up like he was exasperated. “Oh yes, you’d be so pleasant to have around. An absolute joy with all your brooding, sulking looks and glares. I would just be overjoyed to have you around.” Eris sounded so incredibly sarcastic that he almost wanted to laugh at the emphasis he put on particular words. But he wouldn’t because it was Eris.

“Anyway, shadowsinger,” Eris drawled, voice a lot more serious now. “I suggest you run along instead of tormenting my guards.”

“I didn’t even talk to them,” Azriel said, rolling his eyes.

“And that is the exact problem,” Eris stated as if it was obvious and Azriel was the fool. Oh, Eris got under his skin. “Next time you decide to spontaneously visit the Autumn Court, at least make sure to declare you mean no harm or my guards will bother me when I’m in the middle of a council meeting out of fear of the notorious spymaster and shadowsinger of the Night Court. You should know by now that your reputation sparks fear by now.”

Azriel knew it all too well. “Very well, Eris.”

A side of Eris’s lips tilted up. “Have a good day, shadowsinger. See you soon.”

Azriel winnowed back to the Night Court without another word. How pretentious of Eris to assume he’d return. His skin felt like it was crawling still, with that damned itch for danger. So he opened up his alcohol cabinet in his apartment and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

He chucked back two shots before he felt some sort of effect from the alcohol. The itch was suppressed just enough that he could think somewhat properly.

But Rhys’s claws around his shields and then his voice echoing through his mind set him on edge. Azriel, are you busy? I just realized I forgot to tell you something.

What is it? Azriel asked.

I’d rather tell you in person since it’s so short notice.

Fine, give me a moment.

See you in a few.

Azriel felt Rhys leave his mind and sighed, checking he had Truth-Teller on him before winnowing to the River House. He found Rhys through the winding hallways in his office, the top of a pen being chewed on slightly and his wings laying more relaxed behind him.

“What is it?” Azriel asked. “Is there some danger?”

Rhys’s brows furrowed. “What? No. I just forgot to tell you about a formal dinner we’re having this evening here.”

“Who’s it with?” Azriel asked, settling into a low-backed chair in front of Rhys’s desk. His shadows swirled around him calmly.

“Helion, the Lady of Autumn, and then Eris Vanserra-”

Azriel stopped listening to Rhys at the last name. Even the whispers constantly coming from his shadows stopped. Eris Vanserra. Of all people.

“You think you can order me around?” Azriel taunted. “I only listen to Rhys.”

“Clearly,” Eris said, rolling those amber eyes. “Perhaps I should tell him about your idiotic behavior at dinner then.”

Eris wasn’t going to plan dinner. No, he already had a plan and Rhys had forgotten to tell him so he sounded like a dumbass.

“Az?” Rhys snapped in front of his face and he jerked his attention back to his High Lord.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“I asked you a question.”

“What was it? I wasn’t entirely listening. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was wondering if you were alright. You zoned out.”

“I’m fine,” Azriel dismissed. “So tonight? Hewn City?”

“No. The River House,” Rhys said. “I figured I should try to ally with the Autumn Court and seeing as Helion tends to keep the mood light, I figured I could talk trade and be friendly with them all here in Velaris.”

“Ah,” Azriel hummed, looking down at his own feet that were planted on the floor. “Did you forget to tell everyone, or just me?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell Cass too, don’t worry. Mor and Amren only knew because they helped me deal with it. I’m sorry for the short notice, though, brother. I know you like to be better prepared.”

“It’s fine,” Azriel responded. “So you want to do this for trade?”

“Alliances too. With Eris on the throne of Autumn, we have a much better chance at achieving that.”

“I suppose so,” Azriel agreed. “So I need to pull out some formal suit from my closet or what? What time are they arriving?”

“I planned for them to arrive around six. Since it’s winter, it also happens to be night at that point and we could show off the Night Court’s skies. You can dress however you want, but I’ll have my wings out if that helps at all.”

Much more casual then, Azriel deduced. If it had been formal, they’d likely have the dinner at the House of Wind and Rhys’s wings would be hidden all night long.

“Alright,” Azriel said. “I won’t wear my leathers then.”

Rhys smiled slightly. “Thank you, Az. I think this will help the Night Court greatly. And Prythian, to finally be allied.”

Azriel nodded in agreement mutely. “I’ll see you later, Rhys,” he murmured before disappearing in a burst of shadows.

Of all times for Rhys to forget to tell him about something. It happened every once in a while that he initially wasn’t too surprised. His brother was a busy, busy male for being High Lord, just like he was normally busy with Spymaster work.

Groaning, he went toward his closet and opened the door with a sigh. He passed his various leathers from over the years and found his formal wear section. He pulled out a black button-up dress shirt with a black pair of dress pants.

However, it seemed bland and for some reason, Azriel decided to care this evening. Perhaps he wanted to seem unaffected to Eris since he’d been warned on such short notice. Looking all dressed up and nice was a version of defense, just one he employed much less often. He preferred a knife.

He glanced around his closet but his shadows pulled his attention towards a piece of clothing he only wore once or twice over the centuries. A black vest with silver threading that had overlapping cross-sections of fabric in the front to create an interesting pattern on his front and easy latching on the back for his wings.

He rubbed his forehead slightly before giving in to the choice of his shadows. Cassian would probably tease him for it, but he could care less right now.

Master, get dressed!

“It is not anywhere close to dinner yet,” Azriel snapped back. “I’ll arrive late, I don’t care.”

You do, they pointed out.

Azriel rolled his eyes and set the folded pants, vest, and shirt on his bed. “I have a better idea.”

And what is that, Master?

“A bath,” Azriel pointed out while walking toward the bathroom. “Get the damned scent of Autumn off me.”

Very well, Master.

“Keep an eye out on the River House and tell me when our guests arrive,” Azriel directed as he turned on the bath to let the water begin to fill the tub.

A few shadows disappeared to obey while he undressed to slide into a warm tub of water. At least he could semi-relax here. It was pleasant to have the warm water splashing up against his wings slightly when he shifted.

His thoughts trailed back to Eris Vanserra against his will, however. The red-haired male always got under his skin in some of the best and worst ways imaginable. With him as High Lord of Autumn now as well as of quite recently, it seemed inevitable that the male would continue to annoy him.

Mostly in the ways that he had changed since becoming High Lord. With Beron Vanserra dead, all of the Vanserra brothers, even the most cruel of them all, seemed to take a deep sigh of relief and relaxed. Eris was no longer the infinitely cruel male who did his father’s bidding, but he was a male who was trying to make a positive change in the world.

After all, the Autumn Court had never looked better. The leaves were brighter than the last time Azriel had seen them and the entire atmosphere of the Autumn Court had changed. It seemed… less, somehow. Less cruel. Less mysterious. And more friendly. The people were happier. Calmer. Eris was making positive changes in the court and nobody could deny that.

However, that only annoyed Azriel even more because there wasn’t even a reason to be angry at the male anymore. It was just… Eris seemed a lot like Rhysand. A mask of cruelty until freed from their father’s expectations and finally able to make changes. Sure, Eris’s changes seemed a bit more radical than Rhys’s, but they were still good changes.

He’d even been working to provide social equality to the lesser fae in Autumn. He’d been working to lessen poverty and reduce the rich in Autumn to create a healthier economy and society. Azriel had even heard rumors of Eris building playgrounds and funding orphanages since they were overcrowded since the war against Koschei and Hybern.

Azriel groaned and tugged on his hair to try and focus his thoughts off the Autumn Court and Eris Vanserra. He didn’t need the male to get any more full of himself. That was about the only thing that didn’t change when he became High Lord. Luckily, his shadows seemed to interrupt at the perfect moment.

Master, Helion, and the Lady of Autumn have arrived at the River House.

Azriel groaned. “Fine,” he muttered and stood quickly from the bath to dry off, shaking off his wings briefly before pulling on some boxers and then moving to put on the dress pants.

He stretched his wings wide before pulling on the black dress shirt, clipping it behind his back around his wings, and then pulling the vest over his arms, over his wings, and then securing it by buttons on both his front and back.

He felt familiar dark claws brushing against his mental shield and opened a crack for Rhys to slip through.

Brother, Helion is here.

I know, he thought back. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m flying over.

Eris just arrived. Don’t be too late, Az.

I’m about to fly over as we speak, Rhys. I can be fashionably late.

He heard a slight chuckle from Rhys before his High Lord slid out of his mind and Azriel resealed the crack in his shield.

He briefly looked in the mirror and sighed, using a comb to tackle his hair the best he could. It would dry and hopefully settle into something reasonable on the flight over.

His wings were still somewhat wet as he stepped outside of his apartment and leaped into the air. He pumped his wings hard against the wind, a strong headwind blowing against him. The fading light was beautiful at this time of evening.

“Is there anyone else with Eris?” Azriel asked his shadows.

Yes, Master. The Autumn Lord’s other brothers. Jax, Hue, and Kuhn. Lucien is hiding in his room.

Azriel scoffed, chuckling a little bit at the extra bit of information he didn’t ask for. “Well, hopefully, he’ll come out then. I’m sure someone could coax it out of him.”

Doubtful, Master. He is shaking.

“Stop spying on the Heir of Day,” he told them. “Give him some privacy. If he wants to panic about his half-brothers being nearby, then I don’t want to know.

Very well, Master.

Azriel rolled his eyes and pumped his wings a little harder to fight the headwind and make it over to the River House. When he finally made it, he spotted a group standing outside. Rhys with Feyre, Amren standing off to the side and Mor nowhere to be seen. Cassian was there, leaning against a pillar with Nesta who seemed entirely too happy to glare at the High Lord of Autumn and his brothers who were standing in a loose arrow formation.

He landed smoothly beside Rhys and Feyre, letting his shadows roll out in groves on the floor.

Eris spared a glance at him. “So nice to see you again so soon, shadowsinger,” he taunted.

Azriel raised an unimpressed brow. “Eris,” he acknowledged.

Rhys glanced at him but opened his arms in greeting. “How are you, Eris? Your mother and Helion are already inside. It seems I inadvertently planned a Vanserra family reunion in the Night Court.”

Eris smirked and seemed to force a small chuckle out. “I assure you, our family reunions these days are quite calm.”

The side of Rhys’s lip twitched up. “Then let's head inside. Dinner won’t be for a little bit, but I have a comfortable sitting room with alcohol that I’m sure we can all enjoy.”

Azriel perked up at the mention of alcohol, his wings getting held just slightly higher. If he wanted to deal with more of Eris’s smirking, he needed to be an inch closer to shit-faced drunk. Rhys might not want him that drunk, but he was still pretty damn good at being intimidating in any state.

As Rhys and everyone turned to walk inside the River House, Azriel waited patiently, making sure none of the brothers were armed with anything that was meant to be threatening. He had Truth-Teller, of course, but he always had Truth-Teller and it was at least hidden at these types of events, normally accessible through his pant’s pocket slit.

“You clean up well, shadowsinger.” Eris’s voice startled him slightly and he realized Eris had stopped as his brothers followed his family inside.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, casting a small glance down Eris’s own body to examine the clothing he wore. It wasn’t any different than what he was wearing before when Azriel was in the Autumn Court, but it was slightly nicer. The male was still wearing his rings and earrings. Gold and a single silver ring on his thumb, Azriel noticed. He wondered if it meant anything.

“And you look the same,” Azriel replied finally, raising his gaze back up to meet the redhead’s. That amber gaze seemed to tear him apart and gave him an odd feeling of safety at the same time. Probably because he was in control on his turf now, Azriel determined.

Eris sighed, rolling his eyes. “That was a compliment, shadowsinger, if you’ve never managed to get one before.”

“Thank you,” Azriel replied curtly. “Shall we head inside?”

Eris scoffed as if annoyed at Azriel’s lack of reaction. “Very well, shadowsinger.”

Eris walked into the River House and Azriel followed, shutting the door to keep out the cold. Eris turned to glare at the door for a moment before seemingly settling himself and following Rhys straight under the stairs to the main sitting room.

“Eris!” Helion’s booming voice greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Helion. And you?” Eris replied, going to sit down in an armchair near the couch where his brothers were sitting. Azriel, seeing no seats not by anyone, pulled a stool from the corner to sit on and fan his wings slightly.

There was more polite wording exchanged between the three High Lords and a couple of hugs given by the Lady of Autumn, but nothing too interesting.

“Can I ask where exactly my son is hiding away?” Helion asked. “He seems to be missing.”

Rhys chuckled. “I’m sure he’s around, Helion.”

“Is he in his room?” Lady Merle of Autumn asked. “I can go get him.”

Azriel glanced at his shadows in a silent order. A few whisked away stealthily. Within moments, they were reporting Lucien leaning against the hallway wall, banging his head against it. He fought back a smile and merely said to the group, “Lucien will be along in a few minutes.”

Rhys shot him a look and Azriel opened his mind.

Lucien is currently banging his head against a wall, Azriel stated plainly.

There was a chuckle aloud from Rhys and he shot a small grin toward Azriel.

Oh, how wonderful. Should Lady Merle go to retrieve her son or shall we leave him to his misery? With Elain in Vallahan for a month, he seems to have lost his mind.

He’s been in a similar state for quite some time, so I suggest having someone lead her to poor Lucien’s location outside his room.

How about you do it, Rhys suggested.

Azriel shot him a look but let out a breath and dipped his head. “Lady Merle, I can show you to Lucien.”

She immediately stood. “Thank you, spymaster.”

Azriel dipped his head in acknowledgment and held the door to the sitting room open for her as they walked out.

“Your son is currently a tad stressed,” Azriel explained.

“How so? How do you know?”

“My shadows have told me many things, but your son is currently banging his head against a wall.”

Lady Merle put a hand to her face, hiding a very obvious smile going by the way her eyes were crinkling up. “Oh dear,” she said, schooling her expression. “Is he alright?”

“I have a feeling he merely needs a confidence boost,” Azriel replied.

She nodded. “Lead the way, shadowsinger.”

“You may call me Azriel if you wish,” he murmured, leading the way confidently down the hallways to Lucien’s location.

“Azriel,” Lady Merle repeated with a smile. “Apologies.”

“No offense taken. I am called much worse,” Azriel replied. He had been called much, much worse. He paused at a corner. “Your son is just around the corner. I have a feeling that I will not be of any assistance, so I will leave you here.”

Lady Merle dipped her head. “Thank you Azriel,” she whispered before walking around the corner.

Azriel winnowed back to the sitting room, right back onto his stool. Eris cast him a glance but refocused on whatever conversation was going on quite quickly. Rhys offered him a glass of whiskey and he dipped his head in thanks.

Azriel stopped listening actively, just kind of zoning out and only deigning to listen when he heard some word that sounded interesting or might be useful later. He just mindlessly sipped on his whiskey. Lucien and Lady Merle soon appeared, but Lucien sat noticeably as far as he physically could from Eris and his other half-brothers.

The Vanserra brothers, surprisingly, were quite… relaxed though. Besides Jax, they were actively talking and being friendly. But of course, the second Vanserra brother was known as one of the favorites of Beron for a reason. He was not friendly and was hard-headed with a taste for violence.

“Shall we go to dinner?” Rhys suggested. “The wraiths likely have it prepared.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Helion exclaimed. “I’m starving!”

Azriel stood, placing his stool back and drinking the rest of his whiskey to refill later. They’d likely get wine with their dinner anyway.

Cassian put a hand on his shoulder before he could walk out though. Nesta cast them both an odd glance before walking out.

“So, brother, care to tell me why Eris Vanserra kept glancing at you all evening?” Cassian asked.

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He just kept looking. I’m surprised you didn’t notice and comment on it. He must really like your outfit tonight.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Cassian, we both know that Eris has absolutely no interest in the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. He doesn’t have an interest in males.”

“And how do you know that?” Cassian asked, a teasing smile on his face.

“He asked to marry Nesta,” Azriel pointed out. “And had an arranged marriage with Mor. I’m pretty certain he’s into females, Cass.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Ruining all my fun. But keep your eye out for his glances. Maybe you can glean more with all those wispy shadows of yours.”

Azriel raised his brow, unimpressed. “I think if anyone is going to ruin your fun tonight, it’s probably going to be Nesta.”

Cassian scoffed. “Alright you hunk of meat, I’m hungry.”

Azriel chuckled and followed his brother into the dining room not too far away. He glanced at Rhys for any specific instructions on where to sit considering that Rhys and Feyre had taken the odd two seats at the head of the table together.

Eris and Helion both sat beside them. Lady Merle sat beside Helion, her mate. Hue Vanserra and Kuhn Vanserra took the seats beside their mother while Jax sat with a seat in between him and Kuhn.

Rhys glanced at the seat beside Eris quickly and then back up to Azriel’s gaze. Internally, he sighed in annoyance but sat in the low-backed seat for wings beside Eris. Cassian slid into the seat beside him with Nesta, Mor, and Amren sitting down the line. Lucien sat at the very end, ignoring Jax across from him who was doing the same thing.

Once everyone sat down, Cerridwen and Nuala floated smoothly into the room carrying silver platters and revealing them as pork, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a bowl of peas, and a gravy sauce. There was also a side soup offered.

A plate and an empty bowl were placed in front of each of them with silverware.

“Thank you Cerridwen, Nuala,” Rhys said. “This looks delicious.”

“It’s no trouble at all, High Lord,” they responded together. “We are here to serve.”

There was an awkward moment as everyone cast a look at the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Rhys raised a brow. “Go ahead and eat. I’m not being that formal tonight.”

Cassian chuckled from beside him. “Good. I was worried, Rhys. Can’t have you getting too pretentious.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Cass, I think that’s impossible at this point. Feyre humbles me greatly every day.”

Azriel smiled as Rhys mentioned Feyre, but internally, his heart winced. Oh, how he wished for something as great as either of his brothers had. A mate. A lover. A partner. A soulmate. But he was fine, he told himself strictly.

Cassian was the first to reach for the pork, cutting himself a healthy portion and then pouring on the sides. Azriel gratefully took the offered bowl of mashed potatoes before glancing to his left side toward Eris whose gaze seemed to linger a little as he took the mashed potatoes.

Or he was just seeing things, which was much more likely.

Dinner went smoothly. The talk of trade began over dinner, however, and Azriel was soon bored out of his mind, especially when Eris began talking about supply and demand. His wings slumped a little more and he dove into the wine that Nuala handed him after he requested it.

His mind was a bit foggier than it should be with two foreign High Lords present, but he was fine. He trusted Cassian to pull him out if he started being a drunk dumbass.

“Shall we head back to the sitting room?” Rhys suggested. “It’s a bunch more comfortable than the dining room.”

“Agreed,” Helion said. Eris nodded as well.

“Let’s go then,” Rhys said, offering a hand down to Feyre who also looked bored out of her mind to walk to the sitting room. Cassian patted his shoulder and Azriel stood, casting a confused glance at Cassian.

“How much have you had to drink today, Az?” Cassian asked.

“Not that much,” Azriel replied. “I’m fine.”

Cassian sighed. “Alright, brother. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Azriel scoffed. “I could never.”

“You have before,” Cassian pointed out with a little snicker as he put a hand around Nesta’s waist to walk out.

Once he made it back to the sitting room, he sat himself on the stool again and let his wings droop a little bit more as he leaned forward, slumping his posture. His energy was quickly depleting and the alcohol was quickly affecting him.

“Well, while I hate to cut this short, I’m sure we can talk more later on,” Rhys spoke up. Azriel perked up at that. “But it is getting late and we all have a court rule. If either of you really would like to continue, I’m sure I can make arrangements for you to stay the night and make time in the morning.”

“No, I agree,” Eris replied. “It is getting quite late. This visit was pleasant, Rhysand. I said everything I needed to. How about you, Helion?”

“I’m perfectly fine with leaving it at this. I confess I’m getting quite sleepy as well.”

As if at the mention, Feyre yawned and put a hand to her mouth. “I should go feed Nyx,” she said, standing and walking out. Azriel did notice that the little Heir was missing, but he supposed they didn’t want the young boy in the presence of some people they didn’t entirely trust just yet. Even if any of his aunts and uncles and his parents would kill anyone who dared to even make him cry.

Eris stood and ran a hand through his hair. The other Vanserra brothers followed suit. “Thank you for the dinner, Rhys. I dearly hope we can have a repeat someday.”

“Of course, Eris,” Rhys agreed. “It would be beneficial for our courts to get closer anyway.”

Eris grinned and then cast a glance in Azriel’s direction. “Goodbye, everyone. And goodbye, shadowsinger.” Azriel jerked his gaze up, meeting Eris’s amber eyes for a split moment before the High Lord of Autumn looked away. Most of the Vanserra family walked out and then Helion and Lady Merle soon followed. Lucien seemed to take a sigh of relief, as did most people in the room.

“I’m off,” Azriel announced, standing. “See you later.”

“See you at training, Az!” Cassian shouted back as he walked out. As soon as he was outside, he took to the skies and headed back to his apartment.

He sighed as he landed and went to change into sleepwear. Cauldron boil him alive, he needed to stop Eris from getting under his skin. What even was that goodbye? Why single him out?

He cut his thoughts short and sighed, grumbling in annoyance as he attempted to get to sleep.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468, @acotargiftexchange

and the 🌟 of the show: @catboyjamesbond

Ask in the comments to be added! Remember, daily updates until the end of the week and then weekly updates until I finish.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #azris #azris fanfiction #acotar fic #mywriting #acotar gift exchange

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shi-daisy · 3 months ago

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Me with Anna Maria de la Rosa VS Me with Nemesis Vanserra

do u ever just

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shi-daisy · 7 months ago

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#poll #acotar poll #eris vanserra #nemesis vanserra #tanya vanserra #cedric vanserra #a court of blaze & sorrow

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catboyjamesbond · 1 year ago

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Hi! It’s your Secret Santa (again). I had a random question: since the fic I’m gifting you is MANY chapters, how would you like me to post it? I was thinking maybe doing a chapter a day (starting on the 17th) until I run out and then every week after that when I’m still finishing up. But do you have any preference?

Oh and also, here's a little summary/sneak-peak at the fic >:)

A story of finding solace in another. Azriel finds himself needing danger in a peaceful world, and what is better the Autumn Court, ruled by his old nemesis, Eris Vanserra?

~ 🎁

Sure! I’ve waited months for new chapters on fics I like so I’m never gonna want you to rush it!

But I’m also very open to getting the first chapter before the 25th.

Oooo that summary!!!!

Oh in case you didn’t see it, I don’t have any triggers, just certain Ickes that I doubt you’ll run into

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the-darkestminds · 10 days ago

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Remind Me Where The Light Is: Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of my @acotargiftexchange fic for @chunkypossum

READ ON AO3

a/n: thank you to @pippsmcgee for betaing and chatting with me about the plot into the late hours of the night. Your feedback/input is invaluable!

azris | (3/10) | WIP

Summary: Two years after the Autumn Court’s defection to the Loyalist cause, Azriel of Illyria is sent on a dangerous mission under orders from the High Lord of Night. His objective: meet with a secret contact within Hybern’s ranks and secure critical intel to shift the tide of war. What Azriel doesn't anticipate is the contact's true identity—Eris Vanserra, his sworn nemesis and Heir to an enemy Court.

Bound by duty and forced into an uneasy alliance, Azriel and Eris must navigate the deadly politics of war while grappling with the unexpected passion simmering between them.

________________________________________________

Please lmk if you want on/off the tag list!!

Tag List: @chunkypossum @jules-writes-stories @mistandmemories @g00seg1rl @brunetterebel010 @pippsmcgee @talibunny30 @aurorasleeps-27

#azris #azris fanfiction #azris fic #pro azris #azris supremacy #azris intensifies #eris x azriel #azriel x eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel spymaster

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fieldofdaisiies · 7 months ago

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In canon. Can be seen as part two of Trapped. Azriel finally takes Eris up on his offer to talk. He goes to the Autumn Court on a very specific day, wanting to escape his loneliness and has no idea how much his visit means to the High Lord of Autumn. for @azrisweek | azrisweek masterlist | read on ao3 | no warnings

Azriel isn’t entirely sure what he is doing here. It is Solstice in the Night Court, his family is happily celebrating, probably currently opening the last presents, and he finds himself in the Autumn Court, far away from all of them. Alone. A little cold, his wings tucked in tightly, his trembling hands folded in front of his body.

But he couldn’t have stayed a moment longer. It tore him apart from the inside out. To watch them, to share their happiness but at the same time to not really be part of it.

He has gotten so tired of it, their happy display of love and bliss, while he was rotting away on the inside due to his jealousy and desperation. The void where there once used to be his heart, seemed to grow without hope for a stop. It stretched out and made him feel cold from the inside out. His senses have somehow started to feel numb, most days he doesn’t feel anything at all. Nonchalance.

So, he did the only thing he thought of after departing from the Riverside Estate: he allowed the tug on his chest to guide him and bring right into the centre of his nemesis‘ court.

Right to Eris Vanserra.

Surprisingly, it isn’t raining in Autumn like it normally does when he is on a spying mission (something he won’t stop doing even though it has become irrelevant after Beron died and Eris is on their side). Today the weather is rather alright, the air is damp and carries the faint scents of moss and pine and Azriel fills his lungs with a deep inhale. Despite who rules over this court and despite his fear of fire, Azriel has always been one to like autumn. If he had to decide, he would say it is his favourite season. The weather in the Autumn Court always reminds him of his childhood – the good parts of his childhood. The moments he spent with his mother in her hut in the Illyrian steppes when he was a young boy and could escape his father’s and stepmother’s cruelties for a few hours.

A gentle breeze blows around him, and his eyes close for a short moment where he only listens to the sounds around him. He allows himself a moment of peace, takes in another deep breath, his hand resting on a tree trunk, his gaze now focused on the Forest House. It is mostly dark, there is only the hint of a light in one room on the ground floor. From the outside it looks like a library, maybe a living room, so it tells Azriel that Eris might still be awake.

He hopes he is. Otherwise his visit here is completely useless and he will have to go home again and then spend Solstice alone in his flat.

His jaw clenches and he allows himself to hope that Eris is still awake and has time to talk to him for only a few minutes. Just a short conversation. It is all Azriel wants. It is all he needs.

A few years ago Eris had offered the spymaster to come here whenever he needed someone to talk to. Back then Eris was a new High Lord and in the years that have passed Azriel has never taken him up on that offer, until this day. He has never been brave enough in the past years, never sure of what to say to Eris why he came.

He isn’t sure about what to say this day either, but somehow it feels different. He has more confidence, and he just wants to talk to someone. Only if for a small moment. Only if for a night.

Azriel moves to the gates around the Forest House, the droplets of dew adorn the iron bars, and he lifts his hand to the door knocker, but realises soon that if a sentry or guard opens the door he has absolutely no idea what he would say to them.

I came to talk to your High Lord because I felt lonely, doesn’t seem like the right thing. He has to come up with something…better. Like court business. But that wouldn’t make sense on Solstice.

He steps away from the large oak door, blows out a pent-up breath, and brushes his hair back.

I could throw some stones? he thinks, but then quickly decides against it. He is not a small boy anymore, he is a grown up male, a powerful Illyrian he will have to go about this differently. He will knock, but only after waiting a moment longer. Maybe Eris happens to see him and–?

His thoughts are cut off abruptly.

With a loud creaking noise the large oak door of the Forest House opens, its hinges rattling and Azriel tries to scurry away as quick as possible, having allowed himself a moment of distraction he now regrets.

He almost trips over his own feet when he ventures backwards, trying to flee into the forest behind him, hoping the weathered trees are enough to shield him from–

“Shadowsinger!” Eris’ usually polished and smooth voice is tinged with surprise when he appears in the doorframe, his appearance as immaculate as always. He moves outside, heading towards the gate, and braces his hands on the iron railing.

“I—” Azriel is rendered dumb the moment his eyes land upon the High Lord’s half-exposed chest, all the hard panes of muscles and the fine dusting of red hair beneath his thin linen shirt. Eris has always looked good, but now…Azriel is speechless.

“You?” Eris asks, his tone flat. He raises a brow the same moment he crosses his arms over his chest. Azriel can see how his biceps flexes due to the motion, and his brain circulates short.

“It is Solstice in your Court, Shadowsinger, what are you doing here?” Eris’ tone is flat, but at the same time sharp, piercing right into Azriel’s chest.

“I‘m on a mission,” Azriel quickly answers.

Eris braces both hands on his hips and frowns. “On Solstice? In the Court of someone who is your ally now.” Eris cocks a brow, his lips that suddenly seem very kissable, pursed. “Spare me with your lies.”

Azriel’s body is stiff, and he tries to drag in a breath. “You made an offer. That I could come to you if I needed someone to talk to.”

“What?”

“The offer?” Azriel’s brows lift, his cheeks warming. Eris must have forgotten about it, of course he has, it was made an eternity ago, and now Azriel looks like a fool. But the High Lord surprises him.

“That was nearly six years ago, Shadowsinger.”

“And?” Azriel lifts a brow.

Eris releases something that sounds like a purely male, long-suffering sigh, and pinches the bridge of his nose, then he folds his fingers over his lips. His gaze runs over Azriel, and finally locks with his eyes. “Come in then. I was just getting tea ready. You like tea?”

Azriel must look absolutely shocked, staring wide-eyed at the Autumn Court male who is gesturing towards the inside of the Forest House.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve grown another head. May I remind you, you knocked on my door, Shadowsinger, and asked me to talk. Obviously we wouldn’t speak out here where it is cold and about to start raining again.”

“I didn’t think you would—”

“Keep my offer?”

“Can you stop interrupting me, Eris?”

“I‘m finishing your sentences, Shadowsinger.”

“That is interrupting.”

The corner of Eris‘ lips lifts, making a small, delicate smirk appear on his face. “I apologise."

He steps aside, allowing Azriel entrance. First into the front yard, then into his home.

The Forest House, as Azriel remembers correctly, has changed a lot since Beron died. Everything seems brighter now, more alive, the colours more vibrant. Intricate carvings adorn the walls and ceilings of the corridors, sconces illuminating the corridor with a soft light that dances over the polished stone.

Azriel inhales a deep breath of the crisp, that smells of pine and wildflowers, freshly cut wood with a hint of ash and fire.

Their footsteps hollow through the seemingly empty ground floor of the house while he walks slightly behind Eris. He has no idea where the Autumn Court male is leading him, follows blindly, and realises that this could be a trap. But why would Eris lead him into a–

“For a change I didn’t find you in a trap this time, Shadowsinger,” Eris drawls over his shoulder, gaze slowly running over Azriel’s frame. The spymaster only glowers, bites the inside of his cheeks to which Eris has to laugh. For a split second the spymaster worries that the High Lord can read his mind, but quickly brushes off this thought.

Eris turns back to face the long corridor, but Azriel clears his throat. “I have only been in your trap once.”

“Twice,” Eris corrects him, holding up two slender fingers. “But the second time you could free yourself, thinking I wouldn’t notice, but Spymaster—” Eris stops abruptly in front of a large wooden door, fingers curling around the handle. “I have eyes everywhere.” He pulls on the handle and opens the door with a loud, croaking noise, revealing a beautiful and warm living room, appearing in all colours and shades of autumn — orange, scarlet, yellow and brown.

Azriel would have never thought to ever see this part of the Forest House and it feels kind of intimate. He follows Eris into the room, ignoring what the High Lord said to him, his eyes exploring.

It is beautiful here, cosy and homely. Two greyhounds are lounging on the sofa close to the window, and another one is lying on the carpet, belly up, right next to the—

Fireplace.

Azriel’s eyes lock onto the flames dancing, almost as if led by a melody. A lump the size of peach forms in his throat, but he can’t tear his gaze away. His own wails of pain fill his ears, a phantom pain erupting in his hands. He tries to swallow, his throat constricted.

Eventually, Eris speaks up and it makes Azriel look away from the fireplace, right at the High Lord of Autumn. High Lord of Flames.

“Please sit,” Eris offers, extending his hand to the sofa. Azriel does as told, turning his gaze to watch Eris disappear through a different door than the one they came in. He is only gone for a few minutes before entering the living room again, two steaming mugs in his hands.

When reaching the sofa, he offers one to Azriel, then strokes his hounds‘ heads and plops down on the couch next to the shadowsinger, placing his mug on the small table next to them.

“Don’t you celebrate Solstice in Autumn?” Azriel asks, fingers curling tightly around the warm mug. He lifts his gaze and meets Eris‘. The High Lord is looking at him, at his hands… his scars, but for the first time Azriel doesn’t feel ashamed. He allows Eris to look and see the marred skin, knowing different markings of cruelty also grace the High Lord’s skin.

“I think some people here do but we never did. And I also don’t have anyone to celebrate with,” Eris says, voice laden with sadness. “My brothers are either at war camps or somewhere with their wives, and mother is…in a different Court.” Eris averts his gaze for a moment, before looking back at Azriel.

“Why are you really here, Azriel? Why are you not celebrating with your family?”

The shadowsinger huffs in answer, then takes a sip and when he looks back at Eris, the words pour from his mouth. “I felt out of place, third wheeling the whole time. I know it is not their intention or fault but everyone constantly rubbing in your face that they are loved and have a mating bond is…annoying.”

“And it hurts,” Eris bitterly expresses.

Azriel gives him a side-long glance, then exhales loudly. “It does,” he finally says, voice laden with emotion. “It hurts a lot.”

“It hurts so much especially when you start to question why after more than 500 years you still haven’t found your equal,” Eris continues, unsure why he reveals his deepest feelings to Azriel. To Azriel out of everyone.

But once again, just like six years ago, it somehow feels so right. Sharing those things with Azriel —with his mate— feels right.

After almost ten years, Eris is still keeping the secret safe within him, in his heart, locked away behind iron bars. Azriel can never find out about Eris already knowing about it. And if the bond doesn’t snap in place for Azriel then—

“I often wonder if the Mother has no one planned for me,” Azriel sighs and Eris can see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes. He isn’t sure about revealing those things to the High Lord and Eris understands. But he can also see his bitterness, his frustration and the longing within the shadowsinger. He just wants to find his equal, his partner, his mate, like the High Lord himself does, too.

“Mates are a rare thing,” Eris answers without really thinking about what he is saying. His eyes fall to Azriel’s hand, and the scars. This is an odd situation they find each other in, and laying your heart bare in front of your nemesis is not quite natural. But at the same time it doesn’t feel odd. It feels right.

Azriel’s gaze darts to Eris‘ eyes, almost like he can see right through him, and make out the big secret within his soul. Eris‘ throat bobs when he tries to swallow, a heavy, deafening silence falling upon them, stretching out.

“I just want to find someone who cares.”

I care, Azriel, Eris wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut instead, only looking at the shadowsinger.

“Someone who cares enough to…ask how I am, to hold me in their arms after a mission, to help me with my wounds, to…listen to me. To reach out when they notice I am struggling.”

Eris‘ hand snatches forward without further thought, clasping Azriel’s tightly. The shadowsinger makes a movement as if he wants to pull back his hand, but then decides against it. He allows it. And it does something to Eris. His soul starts to warm his chest from the inside out. Little sparks explode and his skin feels hot all of a sudden.

“Struggling how?” Eris queries, hoping to distract himself a little from the feeling inside him, fingers trembling around Azriel’s and. He can feel the scars beneath his warm palm, and it pains him to know that such harm has been brought upon Azriel.

“To see something positive in life.” Azriel draws in a deep breath, and pauses when his tears start to glaze over with tears. “There is just so much darkness, and has been for years, centuries. I am scared I will never find light again, to never see something bright again.”

Eris squeezes his hand softly, the shadowsinger’s pain reverberating through him almost like something ties their souls together. Eris has to shake his head. Because it is the truth. Their souls are unmistakably tied together by the mating bond. He can feel how his heart beats a little slower, sagging, hurting with the pain Azriel is feeling, because he is connected to Azriel and he can feel his emotions.

“I know what this is like,” Eris silently admits, still wondering why the shadowsinger allows him to hold his hand. Maybe Azriel is feeling it too?

“I’ve only found myself living in darkness, with no path to a brighter future. When Beron was still alive, I always thought it was because of him, but I soon realised that these feelings are rooted deep inside of me and the void where my heart once used to be only grows with every day that passes.”

Slowly, Azriel starts to nod, as if understanding exactly what Eris is saying. His gaze moves to Eris’, and his lips part but no words leave his mouth. He only looks at the Vanserra male, mouth slightly open, emotions flickering in his eyes. His shadows calm around him and, carefully, Azriel tugs in his wings.

Eris brushes his thumb over the back of the spymaster’s hand, not once breaking eye-contact. He swallows around the lump that has formed in his throat, his mouth feeling a little dry.

“I brought you something. A little present,” Azriel whispers, breaking the silence and also their eye-contact. He pulls his hand out of Eris’ hold and rolls back his shoulders. A cold fills the place where Azriel’s hand used to be and Eris pulls back his arm, flexing his fingers at his side.

“For me?” He lifts a questioning brow, his expression more than incredulous.

No one has ever brought him something. Gifts weren’t really a thing in the Autumn Court. For birthdays they only ever got heirlooms which would immediately be put away to a safe place after their birthday and they would never see them again.

“It is nothing special, just—” Azriel pulls out a small thing from his chest pocket, not bigger than the size of his hand. It is something wrapped in a serviette and it smells sweet so Eris guesses it is food. It must be food, but why would Azriel bring him food?

Azriel carefully tugs at the corners of the serviette, and it sticks a little to what is inside. Eris‘ eyes linger, following each small movement of Azriel’s scarred fingers. He wonders if the memories of how he got them still haunt Azriel in the same way his own memories do and his eyes flicker to the fireplace, and the soft flame burning in it. Worry settles in his gut.

Does Azriel fear the fire? Is he too polite —despite being a brute— to say something?

“I—”

Eventually Azriel pulls the whole wrapping aside, interrupting Eris. “Elain…she caught me leaving and wouldn’t let me go until I told her where I was going.” Azriel blows out a long breath. A look that speaks volumes passes over his face. “She told me to bring you a cookie. It is selfmade.”

Finally, Azriel is done unwrapping the paper, now holding a small yet deliciously smelling baked good in his hand. It isn’t larger than his palm, but Eris couldn’t be happier about it. Elain thought about him, and wanted him to have a present. And Azriel brought it to him. He can barely believe it.

A small smile tips up the corners of Azriel’s lips and he looks at Eris‘ eyes. “She was very persistent and wouldn’t let me leave without it.”

“Of course, she was,” Eris chuckles. He feels how his heart warms. Elain is wonderful, a sunshine, and he loves her dearly — like the sister he never had. He is happy that his little brother found happiness in her, and couldn't have hoped for anyone better for Lucien. She is everything he needs and deserves.

Azriel breaks off a little piece and Eris lifts his hand to grab it, but Azriel overwhelms him. Startles him.

“Open your mouth,” the shadowsinger says, smiling weakly and lifting the small piece of the baked good to the Autumn Court male’s lips.

Eris is caught off guard. His heart drops into his belly, his breathing becomes ragged and within an instant, his hand snaps up and he grabs Azriel’s arm, fingers curling tightly around his wrist. “I can’t—you can’t give me food!” he warns, his tone loud and commanding, concern ringing within his voice.

Azriel’s eyes widen in slight shock, the corners of his lips drooping, and then his shoulders. He looks at Eris’ almost as if the Vanserra male has grown another head, but then, after a moment of eerie silence, he lowers his chin to his chest.

A tremor courses through Azriel, making his hands shake. “So it’s true,” he breathes. “The feeling inside me…the pull. We are mates. It is really true.” Azriel falls silent after the words have left his mouth, but it seems as if there is more he wants to say.

Eris is left speechless as well. He can only nod, slowly, his mind and thoughts racing like wild horses though. There it is, the revelation. He has hoped to keep it a secret forever, but now all the cards are on the table and there is no way back.

“For how long have you known?” Aziel asks, not lifting his gaze, staring at the stone floor, his jaw clenched.

“For a while,” Eris admits, but doesn’t elaborate. He can’t quite concentrate or focus, his thoughts are all over the place, his heat heavy in his chest.

“What is a while?”

“Since the High Lords meeting.”

The revelation would knock Azriel off his feet if he weren’t sitting down. That was nearly ten years ago. A decade. A decade has passed and Eris has known about the bond all the time. For a decade Eris has kept this secret.

Azriel has felt a shift within himself since he rescued Eris from Briallyn, but he has never allowed himself to consider the shift he felt to be the bond or connected to it. He has never felt real indications for it being the bond until a few months ago when Eris paid a visit to the Night Court and their hands accidentally touched.

A sudden sharp sting of hurt pierces him – why had Eris kept it a secret for so long? Does he despise the bond just as much as me? Azriel thinks. Does he want to break the bond and accept everything that comes with it? The hurt. The agony. The pain. Or is Eris ashamed? Ashamed to be mated to him? To a male?

“Why have you kept it a secret?” Azriel asks in a hoarse voice. “Why have you kept it a secret for so long?”

Eris huffs, but then a steady voice says, “Because…Beron would have done unspeakable things to me if he found out that I am mated to a male. If he found out that I am mated to a male from a court he isn’t fond of.” Eris gives his head a shake. “And I found it hard to accept. You out of everyone, Shadowsinger. I was worried you would not want it anyway. That you would reject me, and break it the moment you find out about it.” His throat bobs when he swallows. “I was scared…”

Azriel wants to say that he would have never rejected it, but he had similar doubts, but Eris is quicker.

“How long have you known?” the High Lord asks as he reaches out and takes the cookie and the serviette into his hand, placing it on the small table beside them, next to his mug. He starts to chew on his lower lip, a nervous habit he picked up a long time ago. Azriel’s eyes dropping to said lip doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and although it makes his heart beat faster and his skin grow taut, he keeps his expression stern – a cold mask he has perfected to never let others see what is going on inside of him.

Quietly, Azriel explains how he started to feel the bond, but also admits how he tried to avoid thinking it was the bond, and that he didn’t want to believe it. Eris understands, of course, as he also didn’t want to believe it.

“Why did you keep it a secret?” Eris softly asks, his gaze meeting Azriel’s. “Throwing the question right back at you.” His lips for a barely there smirk and Azriel breathes a chuckle.

“For the same reasons as you,” he admits. “I was scared of how you would react, thinking that someone like you, a future High Lord, or as it is the case now, a High Lord, would reject someone like me. I am bastard born, lesser fae, a brute—”

“I brute wouldn’t sit here like this, chatting with me like this, being kind and listening to what I say, Shadowsinger.”

Eris‘ kind words catch Azriel off guard and his eyes open wide in surprise.

“But you always call us brutes.”

“I don’t mean everything I say, and I apologise if referring to you in such an inappropriate way hurt you.” Eris lowers his chin, hoping the spymaster will accept his apology.

“Apology accepted, High Lord,” Azriel whispers. He drags in a deep inhale, holds his breath for a moment and then blows it out. “It feels weird to think about you in another way than hating you. After such a long time. And after such a long time where I didn’t allow myself to listen defp inside of me, or for my feelings to blossom.”

A cold chuckle leaves Eris at that, and with a smirk on his lips he looks back into Azriel’s eyes. “Right?” He huffs. “You out of everyone.”

“I assume it is because I am too irresistible.” A grin appears on Azriel’s face, not quite a mischievous one, but rather teasing one and Eris has to laugh, his cheeks heating. He is happy about the change of topic as a sudden lightness feels the air between them, easing the growing tension.

“You are not irresistible but rather impossible, Shadowsinger.”

“And still the Mother chose me for you.”

“She did,” Eris sighs. He glances at Azriel, then to the fireplace and lastly to the window. Rain has started again, large drops now sliding down the glass. His eyes follow one of them, and he blows out a long breath. “Stay the night?”

Azriel follows his line of sight, his throat working on a swallow, but he answers nothing, only looks at the window as well.

“We have a lot to talk about, Shadowsinger,” Eris tells him, not averting his gaze, “I don’t want to rush anything or leave things unsaid. Now that the bond is revealed we should lay all the cards on the table, and talk about everything, starting with what happened to Morrigan.”

“No,” Azriel’s tone is sharp and Eris’ gaze cuts to him. “I’ll stay, but let’s start by calling me by my actual name, Eris.”With a silent, breathy laugh parting his lips, Eris’ eyes close and then he tips his chin at the spymaster. “Alright, Azriel, let’s do this.”

general Azris tag list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @jules-writes-stories @talibunny30 @berryzxx @lilah-asteria

thank you so much @queercontrarian for beta reading💛

#azrisweek2024 #azrisweek #azris #azriel x eris #azris au

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separatist-apologist · 3 years ago

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Don't Blame Me

They Say She's Gone Too Far This Time

Summary: Elain Archeron is certain Graysen Lockhart is the love of her life. She'd stake her life and her reputation on it, and could not be swayed…until visual proof of his constant, unrelenting cheating is sent to her in the undeniable form of pictures and screenshots. Humiliated and angry, Elain vows revenge the only way she knows will get under his skin.

She decides to sleep with his arch nemesis, Lucien Vanserra.

Part 1: For You, I Would Cross The Line

AO3

A decade of love ended with two simple words. Hey girlie. Elain sat in LAX’s terminal staring at the notification on her phone, a pop-up from a stranger on Instagram. It was the first of a series of messages, each longer than the last.

You don’t know me but I know you, the next began. Elain cleared it with an immaculate nail, painted yellow for the upcoming Easter holiday. There was another waiting.

Told me he was ending things, that it was just a matter of breaking his lease

She cleared that message too, ignoring the message over the loudspeakers. Around her, figured blurred into lines of colors, people moving through the airport for flights, towards lives that mattered, that had meaning.

A new message begging to be accepted popped up on Elain’s screen, obscuring the engagement photo of her and Graysen. Ten years, encapsulated in one photograph. The two of them, grinning ear to ear. The picture was retouched, airbrushed, and had been slapped on a million fliers, shoved in mailers, and splashed over billboards. Consistent. Reliable. Family Man. Graysen Lockhart. And Elain, his pretty, smiling fiancé, showing her ring off to reporters and baking fucking pies while he—

I have pictures.

Elain cleared that message with a furious swipe of her thumb, for all the good it did. Screenshot after screenshot after screenshot poured in, barely visible in the little icon and yet Elain knew what she would find if she looked. Every light night she’d happily gone to sleep believing he worked, every business trip he took, every time she went out of town to visit her sisters…Elain knew she’d find Graysen making the rounds.

There are more of us…but they’re afraid to text you. I could add you to the group chat—

Elain let out a soft scream, drawing the attention of the flight attendant waving people through the gate. She needed to get in that line if she planned to go back to D.C. Elain should have boarded ten minutes earlier, had remained glued to her chair, staring at her phone. Her entire life was Graysen. They owed a townhouse together, were six months away from a wedding. The idea of flying back home where he’d surely be waiting made her feel sick.

Blowing things up might cost him his career. Half the seats in their state were up for election and Graysen was supposed to be campaigning for another four years. Elain had taken a break from driving through endless sleepy towns to see her younger sisters new baby and had planned to rejoin him.

I’m sorry.

Elain laughed dryly. So was she. Still paralyzed with indecision, Elain was saved by God or fate or the universe, whatever strange force watched her in that moment. A new message, one that came through her regular phone and not Instagram, from a pretty, blonde face she recognized.

Arina. Elain’s best friend in the entire world despite her marriage to a Vanserra, and utterly unaware of what Elain was going through, sent her a quick, pleading text.

I know you’re on your way home right now BUT please please PLEASE consider ditching Graysen for a couple days and helping me plan Eris’s birthday party. PLEASE. Elain, no one throws a better party than you. This is me, begging on my knees. Graysen will live but I will not if Eris manages to outdo me. I will have to exile myself from both my marriage and my life.

Elain liked to keep things quiet. Her life was private…until it could be exploited. And Graysen had taken everything, every cute story, every soft memory, even their proposal and turned it into something he could make profitable for his career. And Elain had allowed it with a smile, had been more than happy to stage her engagement knowing full well he intended to propose, in an effort to maximize the public’s opinion of him.

Without her, what was Graysen? He was a loser, she decided angrily, rising to her feet. Her feet ached in heels, worn with her tight pants and even tighter—yet modest, of course—top, so when people took photos of her reunion with Graysen in the airport, she would look perfect. She wouldn’t embarrass him. They would maintain that flawless reputation of pretty people in love.

Elain accepted the Instagram messages after buckling herself into her oversized gray seat, paid for with Graysen’s airline points, tucked safely away in business class. The tiny, round icon of her smiling face slid to the bottom, letting the other woman know Elain had seen those messages.

Elain, like she did everything else, took meticulous screenshots of everything. She saved every photo, creating a little folder on her phone labeled Arina Birthday Party, knowing full well every picture she saved went straight to their shared icloud account on their shared computer in their shared home.

And as the flight attendant made the rounds, asking people to put away their devices, Elain paid the absurd twenty dollars for inflight wifi before returning a message to the interloper. The homewrecker. The woman she ought to hate.

Please don’t tell him you told me. Add me to the group chat.

The plane roared forward, all sound but that of the engines filling Elain’s head. It settled her, giving her a moment to stare out her little window and appreciate the sunny view of the pacific ocean. The plane would circle back, crossing over mountains and plains, before landing in the swamp Elain called a home. The entire time she’d been with Feyre, her sister had pleaded with her to move to California. Feyre modeled in Paris and Milan, had married a handsome Silicon Valley type who had a lot of handsome friends. Feyre had already successfully set Nesta, their eldest sister, up with Rhysand’s best friend. Why not Elain, too? Wasn’t Elain tired of the cold and the wet and the humidity? Didn’t she want sunshine and soft sand?

And Elain had laughed at the absurdity of it all. Sure, D.C. was cutthroat but Elain was above all that. She had love, she was happy. Let the rest of the city squabble and fight—she’d always been content to watch, certain her and Graysen were better than all the rest of the slime that slithered through the halls of the capitol.

Clouds covered Elain’s view of the ground, drawing her back to her phone. In the group chat, seven different people began offering apologies and explanations. These girls were friends, she realized. Perhaps not at first but they’d become friends through their realization Graysen was lying scum and their own hurt feelings. They’d met more than once, for drinks and then regular brunch as they debated if they ought to tell Elain. She swallowed her anger because their hurt was, of course, valid and they’d all known. The entire time, they had all known she was there and had only thought to tell her when it became apparent Graysen was never going to leave her.

Elain turned to Arina, the only person she could trust.

Of course I’ll help you. Question, though. If you ever caught Eris cheating, what would you do?

Arina’s answer took longer than it might have. Elain blamed the spotty wifi for that .While she waited she ordered a drink—vodka tonic, which she shot without touching the tonic, before ordering another. The stewardess arched a brow but said nothing, merely handing Elain two more mini bottles and walking away before Elain could order a third.

I’d fuck his mom and destroy his life, in that order. Why?

Elain scoffed, her fingers hovering over the glass screen to tap her response. She couldn’t sleep with Graysen’s parents and she certainly couldn’t destroy his life. She wouldn’t know how. If she left him, Elain knew he’d figure a way to spin it. Graysen was the master of spin. He’d make her into some bitter ex or worse, paint himself the heart broken ex-fiance pining for his heartless love.

A Washington Post article popped up in her notifications. Lucien Vanserra pulls ahead in Prythian City by six points, giving him a sweet lead ahead of the debates.

Elain blinked, opening the article to read. She kept careful tabs on Lucien Vanserra. Their state had two available Senate seats—Graysen occupied one, and Lucien the other. The pair hated each other. Lucien was from Vanserra money, so old it could be traced back centuries into Europe. Arina had told Elain the Vanserra’s were in line to the British throne distantly, and she’d been required to invite more than one Duke scattered about Western Europe, some of whom sent very nice gifts.

Graysen’s family was also wealthy but the money was newer and Graysen used that to his advantage. Lucien could never pretend to be a down home country boy but that was Graysen’s entire image. Elain knew Graysen had attended the same Ivy, had grown up in a sprawling estate with ocean access, and had attended the finest private school’s money could buy. But to the voters who saw pictures of him in scuffed up boots on John Deere Tractors, Graysen was just like them. A working man, a man of the people. And Lucien? He was an outsider, a traitor from the city with money that only cared about protecting the stock interests of his wealthy pals.

The truth was more complicated. Graysen certain did his fair share of protecting the wealthy at the expense of the working class just as Lucien had championed fair wages and capping housing costs.

She sat there, settled in her seat, mind racing. Destroy his life.

Lucien Vanserra would keep his seat, but Graysen’s was in doubt, contested by a bartender named Jurian Iring. Vanserra was helping him raise money but with his own campaign to run, he’d need help. She could help. Graysen wouldn’t have to know. She didn’t have to end things now. Elain could wait, could bide her time, could collect information and quietly pass it along to Jurian’s camp and watch Graysen’s campaign crash and burn. She could choose how to leak his multitude of infidelities, so they had the maximum impact and force him into corner of her own design.

Elain looked back to her phone, at the picture of Lucien Vanserra waving to a crowd of his supporters. Broad hands, brown skin and that Vanserra red hair tied off his face. He was broad, his musculature unhidden in his crisp, expensive suit and his features were just as elegant as his older brothers though softer somehow. She cocked her head, her anger sharpening into something else. Something darker, uglier.

Revenge.

Elain would destroy Graysen’s life and fuck his nemesis while she did it.

LUCIEN:

“What are your thoughts on the internet?” Vassa LaFlamme asked Lucien mere seconds before he stepped out of his office doors.

“Good for some things,” he said quickly, snapping the door shut behind him. Vassa was quickly becoming a thorn in his side. He regretted offering his assistance to her boyfriend Jurian, who was still unbelievably working his day job and had left campaigning largely up to the wide-eyed naivety of Vassa. She was a fire-bird and yet Lucien could not be her mentor, not when he had his own campaign to run.

“I got a DM today about Graysen from an unverified account. Looks like it was created this morning,” she added. Lucien glanced down, snatched the phone from her hand and read the message. It was just as Vassa said—no profile picture, no pictures or anything that would prove it was anything but a pornbot, with a downloadable PDF. Any other time, Lucien might have dismissed it. Swearing he’d buy Vassa a new phone, he clicked the link on a hunch. In his line of work, a dead profile usually meant someone high up was trying to make waves—or ruin a life—and didn’t want to risk getting caught. He prayed for a sex scandal and instead found a schedule of events Graysen was attempting to nail down for the final leg of his campaign. All in smaller town, towns Lucien might even skip in favor of bigger voting blocs.

It meant Graysen either assumed those places would vote in his favor or that hitting the more rural parts of the state would make up his deficit. “Well?”

He handed it back to Vassa. “Looks like someone wants to help. Maybe he fucked over his campaign manager or one of his volunteers. If you beat him there, you might have a decent chance of swaying some undecided voters.”

Jurian was persuasive when he got on a stage and Vassa wasn’t a polished politican’s wife. If you set her beside Elain Archeron, Vassa, while beautiful, looked absolutely normal. It was obvious Vassa did her own hair, that her clothes were purchased in places anyone could buy them and when Vassa smiled, it didn’t seem practiced in a mirror. Jurian and Vassa were the polar opposite of Graysen and Elain, D.C.’s stepford couple.

The problem was getting Jurian out of the cities and into the rest of the state. Jurian had hung his hat on the liberal parts of the state outvoting Graysen, tired of his pandering. He underestimated how deeply entrenched rural politics tended to be, how conservative the east coast still was, and that he was another city outsider. Lucien was just barely tolerated, a liberal Vanserra always mucking about. His family name helped. Jurian had none of that and needed to assure the rest of the state they would not be left behind if two liberal senators represented their interests in the capitol.

“Can I trust it?” Vassa asked, her cerulean eyes somehow bluer beneath the harsh fluorescents overhead. Bouncy red curls offset golden brown skin and a constellation of freckles. Vassa didn’t belong somewhere as profoundly ugly as D.C., though Lucien did not have the heart to tell her. He certainly preferred Jurian to the smug preening of Graysen, at any rate.

Lucien shrugged. “If I knew the answer to that, I’d run this place. My advice? Go with your gut. If you think it’s legit, beat Lockhart to every place he’s planning on attending either with volunteers knocking on doors or with Jurian himself talking to people. No matter what, though, you two need to leave Prythian City.”

Lucien’s phone rang, ending his talk with Vassa. She seemed to understand her time with him was at an end, peeling off at the end of the hall while Lucien paused. Eris. His brother only called when he needed something. Lucien hit the green button and loosened the blue tie wrapped too tightly around his neck. “What?”

“What’re you doing this weekend?”

“Drinking in a hotel bar,” Lucien replied automatically. He’d be campaigning right up until election day. “You want to join?”

“Do they even have bars in a Best Western?” Eris replied dryly.

“Fuck you, Eris.”

“It’s my birthday, asshole. Arina is arranging something, and I need you to be here for it. Father is coming.”

“Your father,” Lucien corrected automatically. “Not mine.”

“You have his last name, that makes him your father. Don’t make me face him alone or I will send the press the nakedest baby picture I can fine—”

“That will only help me,” Lucien shot back, his stomach tightening at the prospect.

“Yes, I have heard about the finsta,” Eris replied dryly. “Arina is monitoring it with glee. Will you come or not.” “Yes, I’ll come but if you think I’m going to speak to Beron, you’re wrong.”

“He wrote your campaign that very generous check, did he not?” Eris questioned a little too slickly. Lucien’s hand balled to a fist at his side before he took a breath. It was late and in his wing of offices, Lucien was the last to leave. It wasn’t usually like that for him and today he was grateful no one but the sanitation worker was there to see him quietly losing his temper.

“You know I have no idea what or who is giving me money,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, of course. Politics is so famously free of money’s influence. I’m sure this was just a good faith donation from a constituent.”

“If he’s hoping I’ll do him a favor he can get fucked—”

“Calm down, baby brother. I never said that. Don’t let him rile you before you’ve even seen him?” “Why bring it up at all?” Lucien demanded, well aware that Eris loved to cause problems for the simple joy of it.

“Ever since mothers fair was revealed, you pretend you are above us all. You aren’t, and I intend to make you remember it. See you this weekend. Bring Arina a nice bottle of wine for her troubles. She’ll have to arrange another seat for your last-minute arrival.” “Tell her I’m coming,” Lucien snapped but the phone went dead, leaving Lucien angry in the middle of the nation’s capital, holding his phone like it was a lifeline. He ran a hand over his face, catching a hint of rough hair ghosting his cheek.

Everything is fine. Your life is fine, he reminded himself. He would shave in the morning, just as he always did. He was a man and Beron could not hurt him—not anymore. Not with his money, not with his words, and not with his fists.

But just to be sure, Lucien changed course for the gym.

Just to be safe.

ELAIN:

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” Graysen asked Elain as she folded another of his shirts, setting it neatly into his suitcase. “Surely Arina can live without you.” “I promised,” Elain replied, holding firm when she knew any other time she would have rushed to join him. “And besides, no one wants to see me. You’re what everyone has come for.” His cheeks flushed with pleasure. Graysen stood in their bedroom in front of a full length mirror she’d driven over sixty miles to buy. Vintage, in its ornate frame, with glass made over a century before. Elain had hung a strand of pearls from one of the corners to soften the burnished edges and even then, as Graysen admired his own reflection, Elain admired her handiwork. She’d designed a life, had turned the once empty brownstone into a home, for all he cared. She could hardly stand to sleep in her bed knowing he’d brought so many other women into it, staining her sheets not just with the act itself but with the lies told.

She intended to change them out entirely when he was gone. He’d never notice. She was merely another piece of decoration in his life that he could appreciate when he needed to, only to forget when it no longer served him.

“I hate the thought of you spending the night with a Vanserra.” Graysen turned to look at her, unaware the tight, slinky black dress she wore, with the draped sleeves and low neckline, served a secondary purpose. His words were double-edged. Elain had told Arina everything, had shown her the pictures, the texts, and most important, had shared her plan. It was risky—Arina was a Vanserra and might very well balk at Elain’s plan to involve the youngest silbing in her revenge plan.

But Arina had merely played along, suggesting Eris invite Lucien to offset Beron’s surprise attendance at the party he certainly had not been invited to. Elain could do the rest. Lucien might not like her but men were stupid and Elain was pretty. Let him think he was getting something over on Graysen. What did she care?

“It’s only Eris,” Elain reminded Graysen, trying not to shove him away when he wrapped his arms around her waist. “And he is very married.”

“Mm,” Graysen murmured, pressing a kiss against her mouth. He could be so sweet. It messed with her, had been all week since she’d returned. She wanted to pretend she’d never seen any of those texts, wanted to go back to how things had been before. “I can’t wait until that’s me.”

She hated him for making her love him. Elain smiled, swallowing her hurt while he caressed her face. “Elain Lockhart. My beautiful wife.”

“Soon,” she lied. “Only six more months.”

“Where are we with that?” he questioned, releasing his hold on her to zip his suitcase on the bed. “I haven’t heard you mention much about it.”

“There’s not much to say,” she lied again. She’d put everything on pause, unsure if she was better off cancelling her deposits or pretending things were fine and eating that money. She didn’t want to waste anyone’s time—and the date she held for the cathedral downtown was coveted. Someone else was surely dying for her early afternoon Autumn wedding.

“Mom says you haven’t responded to her text about a dress,” Graysen accused, glancing at her. “Are you still angry about what she said at Christmas?”

Elain crossed her arms over her chest, letting him see, just for a moment, how furious she was about everything. He didn’t blink, didn’t react. “You mean when she called me fat?”

He sighed, exasperated. “She didn’t call you fat, she just thought you were eating a lot and was concerned about your health. You took it the wrong way. Please text her, okay? Let her make it up to you—” “By shaming me into losing ten pounds for a wedding dress?”

Graysen slammed his bag to the floor. “Don’t cause problems for me right now, okay? I love you, baby. Call my mom. It’s one day at the expense of a lifetime of happiness. Punish her through her credit card but don’t punish me. I don’t want to be in the middle of this cat fight.”

He kissed her cheek and Elain fisted her hands at her sides to keep herself from punching him in the gut. “You’re under a lot of stress,” she murmured. “How can I help?”

“Want to suck my dick?” he asked, his tone light as though he were joking. She hated him for daring to ask her such as thing, when she knew the second he got on the road he’d be texting some new girl who wasn’t part of the group chat, who didn’t know what a liar he was…who would be all too happy to fall to her knees and suck him off the second she arrived to the hotel he was staying at.

“You should have asked sooner,” Elain replied sweetly, kissing his cheek. “You’re going to be late.” “When I get back,” he decided, as if there was a chance in hell. “I’ll be thinking about it all weekend.”

She had no response to that, so she only smiled, smiled until her teeth ached and her cheeks hurt. Graysen continued to talk right up until the car taking him to the airport arrived, unaware that Elain was privately plotting his demise in her head to get her through the interaction. She counted silently to one hundred once the dark door closed after him, just in case he came running back in for headphones or a charger and then, once she was sure he was gone, let out a scream the neighbors almost certainly heard.

She wanted to trudge back upstairs to the bedroom, bury her face in the cream sheets, and sob until there was nothing left. She hadn’t let herself cry—Elain knew if she let go of her anger and gave in to her sadness, acceptance would follow. She’d tell Graysen everything and lose her advantage. He’d spin things to his advantage; he’d salvage his career and he’d get to go on with his life as though he’d done nothing wrong.

She couldn’t stand the thought of it, so Elain took a breath and fixed her hair. She blew a controlled breath through perfect, red lips and smoothed a hand over her flat stomach until she felt calm again. Graysen would not return until Monday evening. It was Friday. For three days she’d be free of his presence, of his lies.

And in the strangest turn of events, Elain almost felt free.

LUCIEN:

“You hardly needed me for this, brother,” Lucien complained, raising a crystal glass of whiskey to his lips. Beside him, Eris looked around the room of mostly Arina’s friends, one hand on Lucien’s shoulder. Lucien supposed Eris did not have time for friends as he headed the family business. Beron had been ousted half a decade earlier for fraud and, despite the utter scandal, had merely paid his fine to the securities department and gone about his life as if nothing happened. He had an absurd presence on twitter and an almost cult-like following. He also had not come, despite his threats.

The party was winding down and Lucien regretted the wasted day no matter how many of Arina’s pretty friends had been giving him fuck me eyes all night.

“No, but it did feel like old times,” Eris admitted with an easy smile. He clapped Lucien on the shoulder, walking him from the large living room towards the connected dining room. The pair paused in front of the wall-length windows of Eris’s penthouse that overlooked the city. Eris truly was king up here, surveying his domain with satisfaction. Lucien wondered if his brother ever felt pleasure at what he’d obtained. “Besides. You made my wife incredibly happy. She likes you.”

“A moral failing,” Lucien joked. He was just as fond of Arina despite the absolute insane decision on her part to marry Eris in the first place. Arina was nice, she was normal. She liked to cut down her own Christmas trees, she knew how to cook for herself and had once forced Eris to return a necklace when she learned how absurdly expensive it was. Lucien had heard a rumor Arina made Eris take her to Olive Garden every year for their anniversary and he believed it, though Eris had never admitted the truth of it.

“Stay the night. Let Arina make you breakfast and then continue your tour of fuck all nowhere,” Eris continued dismissively. “Or better yet, drop out and come work for me.”

“I’ll stay the night,” Lucien agreed. “But only because the bar in my hotel is probably closed.”

“Smart man. Ayva is out there, if you’re looking for something to do…Arina invited her specifically for you.” Lucien rolled his eyes and waved off his brother, heading down the hall for the bedroom he typically occupied. He’d dumped his bag on the bed earlier to mark it just in case a horny couple decided to take it upon themselves to find more private accommodations.

Lucien flipped on the light, surprise to see Arina had covered the once white walls in a blue floral wall paper he quite liked and Elain Archeron sitting on the edge of the bed, massaging one of her feet with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Wrong room,” Lucien informed her, gesturing towards the bag she’d tossed gracelessly to the floor.

“I thought it looked cheap,” she replied without moving. Elain kicked her other shoe off, as if daring him to do anything about it. Was she drunk? Lucien couldn’t recall a single instance in which he and Elain had ever spoken to each other, a feat considering they’d both been in Eris and Arina’s wedding party.

“Graysen let you off the leash tonight?” he bit back, catching how her eyes flashed defiantly. She rose, all five feet of her without her absurd shoes and Lucien had the sense he ought to shut the door behind him, if only to keep someone from seeing him get slapped.

“I am his good little pet, aren’t I?” she murmured when she reached Lucien, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. She was gorgeous, cheeks flushed, brown eyes sultry. “What would he say if he knew you were here right now?”

“You’re drunk,” Lucien guessed, suddenly unsure what else he could say. She laughed dryly, fingers reaching for the button of his jeans. He stilled.

“Would it matter if I was?” she questioned, undoing the metal clasp with one hand. Well practiced, his mind screamed, staring at pouty, red lips.

“What are you doing?” he asked instead. Because Elain was right—he didn’t care if she was drunk or not, just like he didn’t care if she was engaged. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down his knees.

“I’m off my leash tonight, remember?” she murmured, cupping his cock through his underwear. Lucien exhaled softly, hardening beneath her soft hand. “I want to see what all the fuss is about.” “If you think I’m going to stop you, you’re wrong,” he told her, reaching for her hair as she pulled him from his pants. Elain’s smile was almost cruel, so at odds with the endless pictures she’d seen of the bright, friendly woman supporting Graysen in a Chanel pantsuit.

Elain sank to her knees, pumping the length of him once. “When did I ask for a gentleman, Vanserra?”

Fuck her, he thought as arousal spiked through him. His grip on her honey blonde hair tightened and the moment her lips slid around the tip of his cock, Lucien shoved, forcing her to take far more than she meant to. Elain gagged, hands braced against his thighs.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he groaned because despite the intense dislike he felt for her, her mouth was utter heaven. Her tongue slid along the length of him, lips wrapped around her teeth and despite her initial discomfort, she adjusted quicker than he’d expected. He could not picture nice, polite Elain taking anyone’s cock, and certainly not like this. Her cheeks hollowed, creating the most delicious friction and Lucien closed his eyes for a moment.

Her teeth scraped roughly against his skin. He jerked, looking back down at the furious expression blazing from her eyes. Elain pulled back, letting him keep his grip on her hair, still fisting the length of his cock she could not take in her throat. “Look at me or finish yourself,” she demanded roughly. His balls tightened and Lucien could only nod, guiding her back. He repaid her by pushing her further, delighting in the gagging that erupted from her own mouth as she struggled to adjust. He knew he was big and liked to imagine she wasn’t used to a penis so large, and certainly not one being shoved so inelegantly into her mouth. There was something primal about it, watching her on her knees, practically subservient before him, her mascara streaked down her cheek, head bobbing as he kept her in place. His whole body was hard, tighter than a bowstring as she sucked, her saliva pooling from her lips and dripping down his sac. Any other woman would have been given a warning but for Elain, he merely held her still so he could fuck her throat, delighting in the way she gagged. It was music, in a way, to debase her this way. And when he came, he said nothing at all. She squealed, pushing back but Lucien held her until he’d pumped every last drop down her throat.

She looked up at him with more of that blazing hatred, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Lucien felt the most terrible urge to taste her, then, and, pressing his luck, reached for her. She scrambled to her feet and, hand raised, slapped him roughly across the face. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He gestured down his body, his cock still twitching and swollen, her lipstick stained along his skin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that hitting him only made him want her more. What the fuck was wrong with him.

“Give me your phone,” she demanded and wordlessly, Lucien handed it over. A moment later, Elain had typed in her phone number though instead of putting a name that would note her, she’d put a small, pink flower. She sent herself a quick text and then tossed his phone at his feet.

“You couldn’t hand it to me?” he asked, yanking his pants back over his hips.

“Get it yourself. I decide how this goes. Not you.” “What makes you think I ever want to see you again? I got mine,” he shot back with a smirk. Elain only smiled and collected her shoes, as if she knew what a liar he was.

“See you around, Vanserra.”

And she left him, half hard and feeling stupider than he ever had in his entire life.

ELAIN:

Elain was curled on the sofa when Graysen returned, her phone tucked beneath her thigh. She heard the door open softly and close softly. His bag thunked to the ground. Elain waited for him to tiptoe through the foyer into the living room where she waited. “You’re awake,” he said, clearly surprised. And she was. Any other night, Elain would have been in bed by eight in order to be up at four am for the gym but she’d made an exception. She wanted to know how late he’d been sneaking in and at one thirty am, Graysen had finally snuck his way in, smelling of J’Adore.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Elain murmured with mock sleepiness. That was half true. She couldn’t sleep knowing he was out with another woman not using protection. “It’s been a long weekend. How was the trip?”

“Awful without you,” he lied, keeping his distance. Hidden in the dark, Elain wondered what other tell-tale signs she’d find if she turned on the light and looked for herself. She merely curled her legs beneath her body, reaching for her phone. “Fucking Iring beat me out there, the prick. I’m gonna need you next weekend. “Of course,” Elain agreed sweetly. “I should have told Arina no.”

That pacified him. “I should shower. Meet me in bed?”

Elain rested her head along the back of the cushioned tan couch and nodded, her hair spilling around her face and Graysen, thinking he’d gotten away with something, continued up to the bathroom where he’d scrub away the evidence of his crimes.

Elain pulled her phone from beneath her and scrolled through her contacts, looking for the little fox emoji that denoted Lucien. He was an ass, choking her on his dick and still it had been almost fun. Certainly gratifying, in its own way. She’d masturbated to the thought of blowing Lucien just as Graysen had begged her to a few hours before.

5am? She texted, unsure what she even wanted from him. He didn’t seem like a particularly kind or generous lover and it occurred to Elain if she was going to cheat on Graysen, she might pick someone who could actually make her come. She’d been faking it for years, getting off only when Graysen felt like going down on her, which was infrequent at the best of times. She’d told herself it was the tradeoff for love, that you either got mind blowing sex or the love of your life, but never both.

Still, she’d fake it with Lucien to one day rub this whole thing in Graysen’s face. She could get on top and control the entire thing. Use him just as surely as he’d used her, she decided. What did she care what he thought of her touching herself while he fucked her? It made Graysen insane—he swore it would upset any man.

Lucien sent back an address and nothing else, as though he’d made his peace with the situation. Satisfied, Elain turned off the television, straightened up the living room, and made her way into the bedroom upstairs. She passed the bathroom where Graysen showered, his bodywash overpowering the lingering perfume she’d smelled when he came in.

She was in bed, back turned to him when he came in. She felt him slide in, felt his hand on the middle of her back.

“Baby?” he whispered. She almost scoffed at his audacity but instead focused on keeping her breathing even. Graysen leaned over and Elain continued to feign sleep, eyes closed, until he pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade and settled back to his side of the bed. She was fuming, so angry she was sure she’d never sleep.

She was startled when her alarm jolted her awake at four am, cheerfully reminding her that Elain always got up at four am so she could make it on time to her hot yoga class. Graysen groaned, flinging an arm over in Elain’s direction. She pushed it back, silencing her alarm and headed for the shower. Still holding her phone, Elain realized she had a notification.

Lucien, ten minutes earlier, had sent her a sweaty, shirtless gym picture. Elain, ignoring the way her whole body tightened at the sight of glistening abs, responded with one word.

Gross.

He was hardly gross. He had the biggest penis she’d ever seen in her entire life, a low bar considering she’d only ever seen two. He was in incredible shape and there was something appealing about a man with discipline, who got up early like she did to work out. Graysen preferred to run and was often dieting, which meant Elain, too, was running and dieting. She hated running. Elain liked weights, she liked dancing, she liked anything but the monotony of running. Graysen thought weights made women too bulky and dancing was too slutty.

It was a reminder that Graysen controlled every aspect of Elain’s life, from the color of her nails to the kind of clothes she wore and everything in between. Elain wasn’t allowed in anything too short, too low cut, that showed the barest hint of skin. That included shorts to work out in, it included bathing suits on the beach, and it often extended to even the lingerie she wanted to wear. Someone might see her buy it and think she was the wrong type of woman.

What would he think of her now, carefully soaping her body only to send a strategically posed, low light selfie straight back to Lucien? There was no way to know the pair of wet tits belonged to her and though Lucien was a bastard to be sure, he didn’t seem like the kind of asshole who’d leak the pictures.

His response was instant.

Hurry the fuck up.

It only slowed her down. Pleasure coiled through her all the same and Elain took her time drying her hair and curling it, applying a thin layer of make-up, and all the other stupid shit she did because Graysen demanded it even though going to work out in make made her skin itch. Her workout would be different, and she thought she quite liked the sight of her lipstick smeared over Lucien’s cock, besides. Maybe she’d take a picture of that, too. Maybe that would be the picture she showed Graysen, when this was all over and she’d completely blown up his life.

Graysen didn’t budge by the time Elain left, her tennis shoes laced up, her bag tossed over her shoulder. The only difference between today and any other was her lack of kiss—she always kissed him on the cheek before she left, just in case anything happened. Murmured an I love you he never returned. She doubted he noticed the difference, was grateful for the quiet.

Just like Elain, Lucien lived in Georgetown. Why shouldn’t he? A Vanserra living in the historic neighborhood was practically a right, a king come to claim what was his by birth and blood. It made sneaking around much easier, when she merely had to jog four blocks down. Lucien’s home didn’t share a wall and wasn’t a townhouse, a fact Elain was immensely jealous of. Three stories of gorgeous white stone and Victorian architecture, bathed beneath the early glow of the morning sun, left Elain momentarily stunned on the sidewalk. Remembering she was supposed to be at yoga and not at a Vanserra’s, she jogged up the steps, hands gliding up the old iron railing and wondered who had once lived there before him. Who else had walked those steps?

He opened the arched door before she could knock, dressed casually in black basketball shorts and a blue v-necked t-shirt. She’d never seen his hair loose around his face—it had always been neatly pulled back but in the doorway it hung damp and thick around his handsome face, making him seem rougher and almost rakish by comparison.

He gestured for her to step inside, further impressing her with a modern, bright interior that utilized the high ceilings and large windows to maximize the amount of natural light pouring in. She wanted a tour more than she wanted to fuck him in that moment but Lucien, unaware or unconcerned with her interest in his décor, merely gestured for her to follow him up dark hardwood stairs.

And she did. She hadn’t come to compliment him, after all. His bedroom was a little darker, the curtains pulled against high windows, his duvet a blood red that wasn’t totally at odds with the cream of his walls.

“Get naked,” he said the moment he’d shut his door. “I only have an hour.” “I’m sure that’s plenty of time,” Elain sneered in response, pulling her tank top over her head. Lucien’s expression darkened but he didn’t argue. He also didn’t take a piece of his own clothing off, a fact she didn’t realize until she was shimmying out of her leggings.

“What about—” she began but he growled softly, shoving her to the bed and yanked roughly, stretching the seams. She gasped, worried he’d rip a hole if he wasn’t careful. He took only a moment to look at her, a hungry gleam in his eye, before he reached for her wrist and yanked her back to her feet.

It occurred to her only a moment later that she’d very explicitly told him they would do things her way or not at all. He’d heard her and perhaps interpreted it to mean she would decide when while he decided the how. Elain began to protest his wordless manipulation of her body until he was flat on his back and she straddling his chest.

“Lucien you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, pulling himself further down, arms grasping her thighs. He yanked and Elain gasped again, this time from the feel of his tongue dragging up her pussy. The pads of his fingers dug into the bone of her hip, holding her so tight she wasn’t sure how he was breathing. She fisted his hair just as he had done the weekend before, deciding he didn’t care. Let him suffocate, if he wanted to say that kind of shit to her.

And oh God, she had to use her other hand to hold the head board. Her hips rolled against his face of their own accord, urging him on though he had set a very polite, almost leisurely pace. She remembered what he’d said only a minute before. I only have an hour.

An hour. If she could get Graysen to spend more than five minutes between her thighs she considered it a win and Lucien was bemoaning an hour. She could not imagine it, was sure she’d come even if he changed nothing about how he currently stroked against her.

“Turn me around,” Elain gasped, practically writhing when he switched between long, broad strokes of his tongue to short, faster flicks. He said nothing though he paused for a moment and then, with a slowness that made her scream softly, delved into the opening of her pussy, fucking her with his tongue. She hated him, hated him for how good he was with his mouth and how bad she wanted to come. “Lucien, let me suck—”

“Fuck, Elain,” he groaned, letting her climb off his face long enough to reposition herself, his hands frantically pulling his shorts from his hips. He was achingly hard and utterly erect—the sight of his bobbing cock against his abs thrilled her a little. Graysen had told her eating her out did nothing for him, made him so soft he needed to stroke himself while he was down which he found distracting.

Lucien hauled her back against his face without warning and she squealed in delight, sighing at the feel of his fingers spreading her apart. It took her a moment to remember what she was supposed to be doing. She reached for his cock, pumping twice with her hand to get a feel for him. Lucien’s breath quickened, hot against her cunt and Elain moaned softly, grinding against him.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that shit,” he told her, mouth pressed against her body. She wasn’t sure if she meant the stroking of the grinding of her hips and as a test, she did both, first her hand, and then her lower body. He groaned against, losing his rhythm for a moment.

“Suck my fucking cock, Elain,” he ordered and Elain had never been so aroused in her life. She ought to have told him no, but Lucien’s tongue was back in her pussy and Elain was building too hot, too fast. She sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, her mind focusing on taking as much of him as she could, to see if she could take more than before. It gave her something else to focus on, beside the throbbing pleasure between her legs.

“You’re only pretty when you’re sucking me,” he told her, his words panting and muffled. She would have laughed had she not had half his cock in her throat. She raked her teeth up the skin of his shaft in warning, a reminder to shut his own mouth if he wanted to finish at all and Lucien seemed to understand the message.

He couldn’t hold her head against him as he pulsated closer, the vein in his cock raised. She knew he was about to come, had figured out his tell—his hips began to thrust upwards, trying desperately to fuck all of her. What would it feel like to actually have every inch of him in her, pumping desperately, madly?

Elain came for the first time in a year, grinding hard against her face. She let herself be loud, let herself press against him, use him for her own pleasure just as she said she was. He didn’t mean anything to her, was merely an object for her to use. The feeling was clearly mutual as Lucien pulled her off him just in time to coat her in his come. She punched him hard in the thigh, using her other hand to wipe his emission from her throat.

“I get it now,” Lucien panted, grinning ear to ear as he looked at her. “Why the press is always calling you beautiful.” “I hate you,” she replied, standing quickly. He didn’t stop smiling. He merely gestured towards the bathroom door at the far end of the bathroom.

“I know you do. Go clean yourself up.”

And Elain did exactly as she was told.

LUCIEN:

“I can’t stand them,” Vassa hissed, arms crossed over her chest as Elain and Graysen swanned into the little auditorium. Graysen and Jurian would face off in a series of townhalls. Lucien understood Vassa’s frustrations—Elain was a veteran when it came to greeting constituents. When Vassa came in, she’d barely spoken to anyone, focusing on getting things set up, still leaning the ropes. Elain immediately began greeting the people seated on benches around the circular stage, eyes bright as she inquired after their lives and heard their problems. Lucien knew without a doubt Graysen would never have gotten half as far without Elain baking pies and kissing infants and remembering the names of a seemingly endless stream of strangers.

He resented Graysen for it almost as much as he disliked Elain for her willingness to play along. What did she get from the whole thing? Did she imagine she might one day be First Lady? That hitching her wagon to someone like Graysen would one day pay off for her?

Lucien let hismelf imagine her covered in his come, messy and disheveled and so fucking hot. Where was that woman, he wondered? The Elain he saw now wore a bright blue pencil shirt with a modest jacket, a silver bracelet that matched the delicate chain around her neck and the gleaming diamond on her finger. It occurred to him that in the time he’d spent with her, he’d never once seen her wear her engagement ring.

Not a hair was out of place, her lips the perfect shade of pink, her eyeshadow creating the sweetest, doe-eyed effect. Graysen approached in his navy suit and placed a hand on her back. Elain turned and offered him a beaming smile…until he looked away. It was only a moment but Lucien, so busy studying her in his resentment, caught the hatred that flashed over her features before she caught herself. It was the briefest flicker, hardly anything at all.

“I’ll bet he’s fucking women all over the state,” Vassa, unaware of Lucien’s obsession, continued whispering from her spot in the stands. He was there as moral support, sitting in the front row beside Vassa just opposite of Elain and Graysen. Elain took her seat, smoothing the back of her skirt before sitting and tossed a pretty curl over her shoulder. Graysen said something to her and her smile tightened for a moment but she smiled in agreement all the same. Graysen joined Jurian on the stage, preparing to be mic’ed up and flipping through his note cards in his jacket pocket.

“You think?” Lucien murmured. “You don’t think Elain unplugs him when the night is over and puts him on a charging dock?”

Vassa giggled. “If anyone gets put away, it’s politician’s wife barbie. She’s too perfect. I’ll bet she’s pent up as fuck.”

Lucien couldn’t comment on that, though Vassa wasn’t wrong. She sucked dick like she needed it to breathe. He couldn’t think about that or he’d have an erection in the middle of what promised to be a very dry town hall. Lucien had given Vassa the run down earlier—he personally thought townhalls were preferable to big debates. People were obviously preselected ahead of time and each candidate had a sense of the questions that would be asked, but there was an intimacy to them that made viewers and participants feel like they knew a candidate better. It let candidates show off more of their personality, of their values. Jurian needed people to see he had more in common with them than Graysen, who was guaranteed to come off too polished, too slick no matter how back woods he wanted to portray himself.

And Elain, in her thousand-dollar shoes, did Graysen no favors in this venue. Lucien supposed she existed simply to make other men jealous, to perhaps make them think subconsciously that a man with a woman like that might rub off on them in some way. As though there was anyone half as beautiful as Elain anywhere else.

Her eyes met his, that practiced smile shifting into something else. Her gaze drifted towards the hall and Lucien didn’t dare believe she’d chance such a thing. He was merely thinking with his dick while she was letting her mind wander. Still, it was him who stood even as Vassa looked up at him.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Totally fine. I need to take care of something really quick,” he added, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Jurian is going to be fine. This is where he shines.”

Vassa nodded, curls bouncing sweetly. She was exactly what she needed and if Jurian ever got smart and hired an actual campaign manager, Vassa could give Elain a run for her money. He’d try and sell Jurian on the merits of that later. He turned towards the aisle, nodding at the same people he needed to vote for him before pushing through wide, double doors. There was a dressing room between where he sat and Elain sat—small, practically a closet all things considered, but he didn’t need a lot of room.

What he needed was a condom and to get that, Lucien had to run from the purple carpeted lobby to the parking lot, trying to remember where he’d left his car, fish his keys from his pocket, and pull the yellow foil from his glove box. He slipped it into his pocket, walking back to the glass doors of the auditorium. He could hear the booming words of the moderator welcoming guests and hoped the dry political droll wouldn’t permeate through the walls.

Lucien considered, for one brief moment, this was all in his head. That he’d imagined Elain’s desire from across the room and was walking to that dressing room, the same he’d once spent a terrifying ten minutes standing in before his very first town hall, to find it empty.

Lucien yanked the door open and Elain grabbed his tie, dragging him further inside. The door slammed shut behind them and Lucien couldn’t help himself, leaning to kiss her.

“Not my face,” she snapped, her fingers pressed to his lips.

“I’ll bet you’re a shitty kisser anyway,” Lucien lied, hiking her skirt towards her hips, mouth finding her arching neck.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

“I hate Graysen as much as you do,” he couldn’t help saying. Elain fumbled with the belt of his dress pants, yanking too hard. Lucien didn’t care, rubbing himself against her slim leg as he hauled hre against a small table shoved against the wall. He meant to bend her over it, but her skin was so soft and smelled sweet, like honey and jasmine and Lucien needed to lose himself in it. He was cognizant of her hair, burying his hair in the soft strands for only a moment.

“You’re not running against him,” she reminded Lucien, dragging him back to the present. Right. They weren’t friends—she was going to marry his worst enemy.

“I’m here to support Jurian,” Lucien told her, taking step backwards so he could pull his cock from the opening in his pants. He had no intention of getting naked or being caught with his pants down.

Elain hopped off the table, hips wiggling as she shimmied out of a pair of lacy, hot pink underwear. Her eyes darkened at the sight of the condom in his hand, watching as he ripped the corner with his teeth.

“Turn around,” he told her, pocketing her underwear. She was so obnoxious, the way she watched him over her shoulder with those big eyes, as if daring him to do anything about it. Knowing they could get caught, that anyone might walk in on them. How would she explain it? Elain Archeron, soon to be Lockhart, caught fucking a Vanserra?

Why did the thought making him so hot? Lucien rolled the condom over already straining cock and pushed the hem of her dress up over the perfect curve of her ass. He ran his hand over her skin before slapping hard, the sound ringing over the muffled conversation humming in the background. The print of his hand immediately reddened against her fair skin and Lucien couldn’t help his smile, satisfied.

She merely wiggled her hips invitingly, spreading her legs, still incased in those black heels, wider apart. “Tick tock, Vanserra. I don’t have all day.”

He wrapped a hand around her throat, brushing his lips against her ear. “When we get home, I’m going to make you regret this moment.”

“I regret every moment I’ve spent with you,” she replied sweetly, pushing her hips against his straining erection.

There was clapping in the background, acknowledging Elain’s sharp wit and Lucien could appreciate the humor of the moment. He snapped his hips, sliding into her without warning, without an ounce of sweetness. She gasped, gripping the edge of the table. “Ass,” she whispered, as though he were the problem. Lucien knew, the moment he was fully incased in her body, that it was she who was the asshole. How could she not have warned him, he wondered? Dizzyingly, Lucien rolled his hips, forcing himself to stay silent despite how tightly she gripped him. She felt like a second skin, the heat of her body seeping through the condom until he could all but imagine what it would feel like to fuck her raw. He held her hip, yanking her against him until Lucien could hear nothing but the sound of their combined breathing and the slap of their skin.

“Can you come like this?” he asked her, reaching for one of the curls of her hair.

“Does it matter?”

He hated her in that moment. He tugged her hair until she leaned backwards, looking up at him and, ignoring her earlier request, kissed her because he couldn’t stop himself. Like everything about them, there was nothing elegant or nice about it—the kiss was bruising, his tongue in her mouth, her teeth biting too hard until he swore he could taste blood.

“It always matters,” Lucien swore against her lips, releasing her so he could focus. If he kissed her again, he might be tempted to seek out her taste where it was stronger, to bury his face between her legs and let himself enjoy her until she was writhing and bucking against him.

She exhaled roughly when he snaked his hand between their bodies, cunt clenching tightly around him. “Tell me what you fucking need,” he growled, rubbing her clit until she practically dripped around him, her whole body a vice, sucking him deeper. She came with a sweet whimper, the feel of her convulsing around him emptying his mind of all other thoughts. He came almost regretfully, knowing the moment he finished his wild, primal pumping he would have to send her back to Graysen.

Elain all but shoved him off her, pulling her dress back to her knees. “My underwear—” “It’s mine,” he interrupted smoothly. “I’m not giving them back.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to smell them later?” she taunted, raking her fingers through her still immaculate hair. He took a step towards her, wiping a bit of smeared lipstick from her mouth with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m gonna use them to masturbate tonight,” he replied. “Want me to send you a video.”

Her eyes burned with hatred. Elain reached for the door handle as Lucien quickly zipped himself back into his pants.

“Send me the video, Vanserra.”

Elain snapped the door shut behind her, leaving him grinning like an utter fool in her wake.

ELAIN:

“How the fuck is he always one step ahead of me?” Graysen raged, turning the television off to pace across the plush white rug in their shared living room. “Someone is telling him something, I just know it.”

Elain didn’t look up from her phone, staring at a series of filthy texts from Lucien. “Maybe you should vet your volunteers better.”

“Its like he’s in my mind. I say I want to go to a soup kitchen and there that bastard is, photographed by the press—” “You left last weekend for Our Little Sisters,” Elain reminded him, looking up from her screen with a frown. “What happened?”

Graysen paled for a moment, caught in a lie he’d obviously forgotten about. “I told you, he beat me to it.”

Elain looked back at her phone, knees pulled to her chest. Come over.

“You could still go,” she reminded Graysen stone faced despite the arousal currently pulsating through her. “Good deeds aren’t a first come, first served sort of thing. Pick an organization in a county you haven’t visited yet.”

She wondered if he was considering which of his mistresses he’d told all this to that might be blabbing. He began to pace again, brown eyes stormy, his handsome face ugly with anger. “It’ll look cheap in comparison. It’s just one thing of a long list. Someone has betrayed me—” “Vet your volunteers better. It’s the same staff as before,” she reminded him, fingers flying across the screen.

You sound desperate.

Graysen ran a hand down his chin. “Do you have plans tonight?”

She frowned, once again forced to look at her fiancé. “No. I thought we were staying in?”

“What about Arina? You haven’t seen her in forever.” “Her and Eris have been in the Maldives for his birthday.” “They’re back though, right? You should visit her.” His desperation infuriated her, so transparent she had to work to keep her expression thoughtful.

“It would be nice to spend some time with her.” “Spend the night, even. Have a girls night. You’ve been working really hard, Lainey. On me. Take my card and really go crazy. Spa, drinks, dinner, shopping, whatever you want.”

Elain glanced back at her phone, to the new message waiting for her.

Desperate to see you covered in cum.

She plastered a smile to her face. “You spoil me.”

“You deserve it, baby. I mean it. You’ve let me drag you all over without any complaining. Have a nice night with Arina.”

“What will you do?” she asked, rising to her feet, well aware he was about to lie to her face. Would he see his mistress? Graysen crossed the room, holding her face in his hands.

“Work. I’ve got to figure out how to bury that piece of shit. It’s going to be a boring night staring at my computer.”

“You work too hard,” Elain told him too sweetly, her mind wandering to every filthy thing she’d do to Lucien as repayment for this moment. “I’ll miss you.”

He slapped her ass. “Go have fun.”

Elain put on a slinky red dress and a pair of matching red heels with absolutely nothing underneath. She concealed that fact in a long jacket, buttoned over her breasts so when she came to see Graysen he didn’t notice her nipples poking from beneath the silky fabric. Not that he looked in her direction at all. It was ridiculous to think he was staying at home, in his button up blue shirt and his navy dress pants. He had his watch still on, for fucks sake. He was clearly waiting for her to leave.

And she did, unbuttoning the beige coat as she walked the four blocks to Lucien’s house, each step freeing her of her resentment. By the time Lucien pulled open the door, wearing only a pair of long, athletic pants loose around his hips, Elain was almost excited.

“You’re overdressed,” he commented, eyes immediately zeroing in on her breasts.

“It’s called a gift, and you’re welcome,” Elain retorted.

“To see your tits through clothes? That’s only a gift to someone whose never seen you naked. Take your dress off…but keep the shoes.” “You’re a pervert,” she accused, sliding the dress tortuously slow over her skin, reveling in the feel of the fabric against her overheated skin. Lucien watched hungrily, not moving from the foyer.

“Did I steal your only pair of underwear?” he asked, reaching for her now naked body and skimming his hands over the sides of her skin.

“I couldn’t risk you keeping them,” she replied.

“Answer me one thing, Elain Archeron,” he began, his mouth so close to hers she could taste the alcohol he’d been drinking. “When you’re done punishing Graysen for whatever fuckup he’d=s committed, are you going to marry him?” “Jealous?” she taunted, eyes searching his.

His eyes flashed with heat. “Yes.”

She didn’t let him say another word in the wake of that admission. She should have left him entirely. It was too far, to admit there was something at stake for him. This was supposed to be meaningless, punishment for every wrongdoing of Graysen’s. Instead, Elain grabbed Lucien by the back of his neck, kissing him roughly. She was stupid, thinking she could walk away. He was utterly electric, his hands pure heat as they hauled her into the air.

Fingers rubbed between the globes of her ass, his mouth bruising. Elain dragged her fingers through his hair, pulling through thick tangles. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms around his neck as Lucien walked them up the steps, never breaking the kiss. She was grateful for his athleticism in that moment, certain she would have died if he set her down, if his clever fingers stopped their expert, soft touches.

He dropped her to his bed, his heady, masculine scent enveloping her. She yanked at his hair, unwilling to give him a moment to say another word that might betray whatever feelings were bubbling in his mind. As far as Elain was concerned, she had a plan and Lucien asking if she intended to marry Graysen would only fuck it all up. He knew what this was.

She pushed desperately at his pants, not wanting to think about anything but his cock buried inside her, of the oblivion fucking him brought. He kicked them off, panting over her before trailing a series of punishing, bruising kisses over her skin, sucking against the skin of her breasts so hard she was certain there would be tell-tale purple bruises in the morning. She didn’t care. She raked her nails roughly against his back, hoping she might scar, wanting to hurt him for scaring her.

His cock slid through the slick folds of her pussy, reminding her she’d always meant to be in charge of their sexual interactions. She shoved him off her roughly, straddling his hips before he could stop her. He misunderstood, groaning his approval and trying to haul her up over his face but Elain slapped his hand off her. She centered her body over her cock, taking the base of it into her hand, and guided herself down.

“Look at me,” he demanded when her eyes shuttered. “You’ll look at me when I fuck you.” “I’m fucking you,” she reminded him breathlessly, rolling her hips quickly, desperately. They moaned in time, his broad hands spanning her ass again, practically holding her over him, his pace just as frantic, just as needy.

“Please, Van—”

“Say my goddamn name!” he all but yelled at her, reaching for a strand of hair and yanking until her face was mere inches from her own. “Say my name, Elain. Look at me and say my name.”

Their eyes met, her hips frantically meeting him thrust for thrust. The pain only made her wetter, made her want him more. “Lucien,�� she whimpered. “Please, I—”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Elain and Lucien froze, looking behind them at the crisp, stunned figure of Eris Vanserra. Eyes wide, pale-faced, Eris seemed genuinely surprised, maybe for the first time in his life. “I don’t know which of you is dumber right now. Get fucking dressed.”

Elain slid Lucien from her body, wrapping the blood red blanket of his bed around her as Lucien very quickly dressed. He looked wild and a little afraid, yanking a shirt from his desk against the window over his head.

“Stay here,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

Something was bubbling in her chest, something Elain had kept buried for far too long. When the door snapped shut behind her, she stood with a numbness she hadn’t thought herself capable of feeling. She pulled open his dresser drawers, pulling on a pair of blue basketball shorts and one of his t-shirts before sitting on the floor, her back against his bed. Elain drew her knees up to her chest, waiting for Lucien to return.

The door opened and familiar blonde hair and green eyed peeked in. Arina, hurried and clearly worried, quickly slipped into the room. Arina, who had known about this plan the entire time, even if Elain had never shared the specifics, who had likely been waiting for Eris in the car when he stopped by to see his younger brother.

Arina, dressed in a beautiful blue dress, sat on the wood floor beside Elain and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Graysen has been sleeping with other women behind your back, Elain,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

And the tears Elain had been so desperately trying to keep at bay finally erupted from her chest. She buried her head in Arina’s shoulder, her sobs loud enough to interrupt the sound of Eris yelling at Lucien downstairs. “No. I’m not okay.”

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain x lucien #dont ask me what im doing #i very obviously do not know

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