#beron when i catch you....

[auutumn]

happy mother's day to the lady of autumn & her perseverance & strength & courage 🥺

[lainalit]

Lucien

Eris

[knoxic]

How to be a High Lady?

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader (f)

Summary: Reader's first meeting as a HL, Rhysand makes some comments and reader chews him out, then smut🤭

wc: 2,8k

warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, Rhysand slander, might be some ??shit there sorry I wrote this instead of sleeping

part 2

How they met

Her expectations for her first meeting as High Lady weren't very high, obviously there would be judgment and doubt given who her High Lord is, surely there would be some snarky remarks.

༄

Eris had spent the last couple of day trying to remind her that she deserved the title, that she was already proving herself to be a good High Lady, that their court could already see it. Perhaps him being her mate had dulled the effect his words would have on her had it been someone's.

As soon as she accepted the mating bond Eris had took it upon himself to spoil her, never wanting to see her as low as she was when they first met, it was his personal mission to make sure she knew were she belonged, and that was right beside him, sitting in her throne wearing a golden crown made specially for her. He'd never let her doubt herself ever again, for he knew what she was capable of.

"That's a little questionable, coming from you," she ran her fingers through his hair, tucking a few strands behind his pointy ear, "But thank you, you always know what to say." She had received a pout and what seemed to be the best try at puppy eyes his fierce ones could manage.

༄

The rational part of her brain knew that being High Lady wouldn't be an easy feat, never mind being one in Autumn Court, but there'd been some noticeable change already. Bakers in the village she had visited days before greeting her with smiles and free pastries, farmers thanking her for being the reason Beron was dead and now they could receive a decent salary. Somehow, they respected her.

Almost a century ago, when Eris first brought up the idea of making her High Lady, she had laughed at how absurd if was, imagine, a High Lady in Autumn? Yeah, right. But he was serious, so serious he spent the whole night stressing on it, by the time the sun had risen she had decided to at least know more about what it took to rule a court. After days of researching in any library she could find in Autum, she realized a good part of what she'd "learned" were things she already knew but hadn't really thought about, others were hard concepts that she supposed would go to Eris when they became High Lord and Lady of Autumn.

She doesn't remember how nor when she agreed, but she did.

༄

As soon as they stepped foot in Day, their hands entwined, she felt some glances being thrown her way, whispers catching her ears when she sat beside Eris. His hand squeezing hers made her lock eyes with him, those amber eyes comforting any doubts she might had been feeling before.

"Hi! I don't think we've been introduced before, I'm Viviane." She had heard things about the female, how she took care of Winter when Kallias was stuck Under the Mountain, that surely wasn't easy, if someone deserved being High Lady it was her.

Viviane sat beside her, after pleasantries were exchanged conversations just flowed, their mates watching their interaction silently. It appeared that, as usual, the Night Court would be making their dramatic appearance being late to the meeting, and as everyone waited for them, the rest of the High Lords were simply talking between themselves or watching the others interact.

"It'll be nice to have another female here, there's too many males here." Viviane giggled.

"Meetings with Autumn's advisors already give me headaches, I can only imagine your suffering." They laughed a little before the room fell utterly silent. Night Court had arrived.

"We should do this again some time soon, just us." Viviane whispered and gave her a wink before straightening up in her chair and taking Kallias hand between hers.

Now it starts. She felt Eris tense beside her but didn't say anything, knew the image he still sell, instead, she watched Rhysand and Feyre marching towards their chairs, their hands clasped together, the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed right behind them, and in the midst of them was... Morrigan.

As Rhysand sat, his eyes locked onto mine, a smirk dancing in his lips, glancing between Eris and me I could see the thoughts running in his head.

"Oh, Eris... Is that, the precious mate of yours?" His voice in a sickly tone of amusement, "I thought you'd hide her forever." He knew the game he was playing, his words were a simple attempt to test Eris, to paint an image that he'd lock me up like Beron did to his mother.

"Whatch your tongue, Rhysand, before I burn it to ash." Eris didn't falter, his tone still cocky as ever. He took great pleasure in showing her off. "But to answer your question, yes, she is my precious mate."

She could see that Rhysand had a bitter comment on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by Helion, who asked something she did not pay attention to, violet eyes still challenging her to look away first, perhaps he was trying to test her or for him it was simply fun to intimidate others. His mate made him break the staring, Eris' hand squeezed mine as soon as he did, I looked at him and the different between his and Rhysand's eyes was outstanding. Eris looked at her as if saying 'say the word and we'll leave' as he did everytime they were in public.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, so far she hadn't heard anything that required her to say something, so she was quiet, until Autumn was brought into conversation and Eris let out that she was now High Lady. Rhysand had laughed, laughed as if Eris had told him a joke.

"Really, a High Lady? In Autumn?" His right eyebrow lifted, "What are you playing, Eris? Do you think your court would like you more if you pretend she's in command? Come on..."

"Why did you make Feyre a High Lady?" Eris bit back but his voice remained cocky.

"Do not bring my mate into this."

"You bring mine, I bring yours." Eris tilted his head as if taunting him. "It's a fair question, she's a child–"

"Watch your next words, Eris," Azriel spoke for the first time, "One of them might get stuck in your throat."

"Why do you care, Rhysand? Why does it matter for you if I'm High Lady or not?" Her voice was low and calculated, if she raised it then the Shadowsinger would turn to her and Eris would lose his temper.

"It doesn't matter to me. Though I must say, only a fool would believe he made you High Lady for pure reasons–"

"Don't you think I'm a High Lady because I can be a High Lady?"

"Perhaps not. What do you have of so special you think you can be one?"

"My mate is a High Lord, according to you that should be enough," she continued before he could say anything, "But unlike Feyre I didn't turn High Lady overnight. Maybe I don't have anything special, I just spent decades learning what it takes to be a High Lord, studying the behavior of one and I must say yours is controversial, as was Beron but that's another history."

"What do you mean?" Rhysand had risen from his chair by now, the Illyrians behind him seething.

"Being a High Lord– or High Lady, means you take care or your court, therefore you take care of your people. Velaris is known for being a beautiful place but what of the rest of your court? Hewn City has been in shambles for centuries and you've been High Lord for almost 500 years, what have you done in that time to help them? Rhetorical question, nothing, at least nothing that matters anyway. About the Illyrian camps, the females now are able to learn how to fight but is it even worth it if you don't even have a safe home to go? So many things are begging for help but instead of helping, you just brag about your powers."

"What do you know about my court?" She could swear the room had turned a tad darker.

"Enough to know that, in spite of your judgement, we are doing a far better job at ruling than you are."

"You dare talk about my court and now you criticize the way I rule my own court?" The room was definitely darker, and colder, her left hand felt warmer than the rest of her body, courtesy of Eris. "Who do you think you are?"

"A High Lady."

The room fell silent for a moment, maybe her choice of words was too much for someone so new at this meetings. Rhysand still glared at her with those violet eyes promising death, two other pair of eyes shined behind him, calling for her to look, she didn't look away from Rhysand until a voice spoke up.

"She has a point. A great point of view, proves you're apt for ruling and wants what's best for Autumn, it'll be nice to see such a beautiful place grow." Helion voice was soft, albeit hesitant, and he seemed honest when his lips turned into a gentle smile, which she reciprocated easily. Mornings spent trying new pastries with Eris mother had them talking about her mysterious past lover who she'd then come to learn was Day's High Lord, perhaps that was why he looked forward to seeing Autumn grow, he was looking forward to the day she'd feel free. "I also believe the meeting is over, we should all get some rest for tomorrow, you're all welcome to stay here."

Eris stood up still holding her hand, a sign for her to follow, as they started walking towards the door his hand found place in her lower back, a small demonstration of protectiveness. She'd have to reward him later for being so patient today, not letting his temper get the best of him, at least for her first meeting.

༄

"You did so good today, my love." Eris told her as soon as they walked into their bedroom, his arms finding their way around her waist, holding her from the back, his straight nose nuzzled her neck the way he knew she loved.

"You think? Maybe I said too much..."

"Why, think they'll find out? Listen," he pulled back so she could turn in his arms but still held her waist, "Let them, you'll gain their respect a way or another, Helion already likes you, he'd be delighted to have a witch as smart as you to talk to about spells, the rest will follow suit."

"You know what I meant."

"I know, you did nothing wrong, your power gave you the knowledge for a reason, you used it to tell Rhysand how he's failing his own court, if anyone should apologize is him to his own people, not you." To make a point he gave her nose a small kiss, "But... I don't think he'll do anything at all."

"Yeah... He had many chances and time to change things, and he hasn't." She leaned her body against his, his hands moved behind her back and she felt her dress loosen up, "Thank you for behaving today, I guess you deserve a reward." She pulled back to smile at him, trying to appear innocent.

"Stop that," he laughed, "I wouldn't be opposed to that, but, I think I'd rather reward you. For standing up for yourself and your court, for not being intimidated so easily, you held you own and I'm proud of you."

Eris started pressing gentle kisses on her cheek and all the way down her neck while his hands slipped to her shoulders, pulling the fabric from her body and letting if fall to the floor. Her hands made quick work to unbutton his vest, wanting to have less clothing separating them.

His hands squeezed her bottom before slipping down her thighs and pulling her up, walking towards the bed while still kissing and nipping at her neck. One of her hands found place at the back of his head while the other found his cheek, a sign for him to kiss her lips.

As he kneeled on the bed and laid her down, he leaned back to pull off his vest and linen shirt, her undergarments following right after. Their kissed turned more more heated, his hands roamed through her whole body, gripping her tightly. When they pulled back to breath, his cheeks were a bright shade of red, as they always were around her.

Instead of going back to her lips, his mouth went to her stomach, kissing and licking, going up to her breasts and down her hipbone, his hands pulling her thighs up to rest on his shoulders while his mouth made delicate work of kissing her cunt. Pressing kisses and gentle kitten licks on her clit down to her entrance, teasing it with his tongue and going back to her clit, sucking harshly and soothing it with kitten licks again. When he deemed her wet enough, his fingers joined, middle and ring finger, clad with his wedding band, thrusting slowly and curving upwards while his mouth resumed licking and sucking her clit.

His unoccupied hand, which previously remained clasped tightly around the flesh of her tight, now brushed his fingers around her stomach, lightly running his fingernails through her skin making her erupt with goosebumps, his fingers thrusting into her quickening, her walls were squeezing him and he knew she wouldn't last long. Sucking specially hard on her clit and curving his fingers how he knew she liked, she came with a whimper, thighs shaking around his shoulders, he stills his fingers as to not overwhelm her but his tongue still licked her cunt, precisely avoiding her clit.

When she calmed down he pulled his fingers back and licked her clean of her cum, careful to not go so fast, when he was done he pulled back and leaned her body on hers so they could kiss, making her taste herself on his lips. Her hands roamed the expanse of his scarred back, up to the back of his neck and down to the waistband of his trousers, which she pushed as low as she could reach, a sign he took to get rid of them.

Him standing up gave her a full view of his body, he was lean and yet full of muscles, scars here and there that didn't compare to the ones in his back. General Eris Vanserra was handsome, High Lord Eris was still handsome but he was also elegant and charming. The Eris she had when they were in the intimacy of their bedroom was beautiful, a beautiful male and even beautiful mate and husband, he was a broken male that managed to stitch himself back together and remain good and he was beautiful.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He was kneeling back on the bed, his hands caressing her legs.

"Because I love you, and you deserve to be admired, Eris." She could swear his cheeks had turned a tad darker, even his ears were tinged pink.

Eris didn't say anything back, just leaned over to capture her lips, gentle this time, slowly parting them with his own and brushing his tongue with hers, licking and sucking on the tip of her tongue. When his hips touched hers she snuck a hand down their bodies to align his cock with her entrance, he gave a few small thrusts to tease her before fully thrusting himself inside her, when they did they moaned in unison. Together they were far from the people they were moments ago, together they didn't have titles or expectations to live up to, together they could just be and they didn't even have to say anything, their movements were unhurried and their sounds were quiet, all heavy breathing and small noises.

Eris' thrusts faltered every now and then, followed by a whimper of his own, one of his hands was tangled in her hair while the other held her face gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb while they kissed. Her legs kept to his sides, caressing him in any way she could, her kept changing between holding his arms and holding his shoulder or hair.

Their bodies had a thin layer of sweat, her cunt throbbing made Eris lose his rhythm, when he found he started thrusting faster, his hand is her hair tightened and they could barely focus on kissing, their mouths just hanging open with heavy breaths and the occasional stroking of tongues was they could manage. Their moans were getting louder, his hips meeting hers harder, their bodies slipping with sweat, his forehead met hers when they tipped over the edge, groans and whimpers mingling together through the bedroom. His seed hot inside her doing wonders to soothe her want for him.

When they calmed down enough to move, Eris rolled beside her and pulled to his sweaty chest, usually they'd bathe but they were both too spent to do anything else, at least for a while.

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Seven

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, beron being a pos, deep self-reflection for both az & reader, a conversation, a confession, and a turning point

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: this is not properly proofread yet, i couldnt bring myself to read it fully since i was getting self-critical and wouldve never posted

Part Six | Series Masterlist

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The early morning mist still clung to the open fields as you crossed them. Eris stood alone in the expanse, throwing a ball for his hounds. The movement was fluid and practiced, and you found your mind wandering to memories of decades prior —- memories where Eris stood in the same spot, throwing the same ball at younger pup versions of the dogs. Laney trotted beside you as you approached, her pace quickening as she saw the others.

A brisk chill made you pull your coat tighter, but the fabric did little to ward off the cold. It was always peaceful out here, away from the burdens and bustle of the court itself, and Autumn mornings had a cool air that made you feel real, made your skin feel alive.

Eris’s eyes were already on you as you approached him, eyebrows raising momentarily as you took a stand next to him. You mirrored the action back to him, crossing your arms and pulling them tight against your body. 

“What’s that look for?”

He gave a casual shrug. "Surprised you've spared some time for me in your incredibly busy schedule.”

You scowled. “You’re so dramatic.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the crisp air, and his lips twitched upwards in amusement at your annoyance.  “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Your gaze bounced around his face. He seemed tired— more so than usual, and the freckles on his nose seemed to be less prominent with the lack of color in his skin. You casted an absentminded glance towards the overcast sky before meeting your brother's eyes again. 

“Have I?”

Eris hummed. “You have.”

He pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” you said, “You’ve been really busy too.”

Your answer pulled another raise of his brows. 

“Of course I noticed,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes that matched the amusement in his tone. “It was so quiet here without you terrorizing everyone.”

You rolled your eyes and Eris grinned at his own words, a look of satisfaction rolling through his features as you scowled deeper. 

“You’re not funny,” you said. 

He let out a wistful sigh. “On the contrary, little sister,” he mused, “I’m hilarious.”

You threw him a withering glare and his grin widened. He nudged his shoulder against yours. A few hounds scampered back to him, Flint proudly carrying a small red ball in his slobbering jaws. Laney bounded alongside, followed closely by four hounds.

Eris moved gracefully, bringing his body down into a squat to offer a flat palm to Flint. The ball landed in his hand with a small thud.

"The male you’re sleeping with, do you care for him?"

Eris’s voice was so calm, so casual, that you almost didn’t catch what he’d asked you. He didn’t bother to look at you. 

You took a sharp intake of breath, looking down at him with widened eyes. “What?”

Eris stood up straight as he tossed the ball back into the distance effortlessly. You watched the hounds race after it, Laney's determined strides putting her ahead of the pack as they joined the others in the field. When you looked back at Eris, he was studying you— waiting for your response.

“Well?”

Your heartbeat quickened and you frowned, pulling your arms tighter against your chest. "What are you talking about?"

He raised an eyebrow, casually pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

You stared at him, feeling a knot of tension tighten in your chest. Your nails dug into your skin through the fabric of your coat. Eris continued, his voice steady. "You've done a great job at covering the scent. But you can't fool me. Don't forget who taught you those tricks."

His eyes were simmering as they met yours again, the amber in them flickering with something guarded— something concerned. You took a steadying breath as you weighed your options. The easiest one was to deny that there was any male at all, to attempt to outplay your brother at the one game he knew best. But it would be foolish to believe that could truly work. Your mind raced again.

The best lies are the ones with truth, Eris always said, you can get away with anything if you approach it right, if you take control of the conversation. 

You let out a breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

Truth.

He maintained his heavy gaze. "Is it one of my soldiers?"

You grimaced at his words, letting your face fall into one of slight disgust. "You'd really want to know if I was sleeping with one of your men?"

Take control of the conversation.

The words seem to hit their target as Eris’s lips formed a deep frown. His nose scrunched as he processed the words. He gave you a dismissive hand wave. “Nevermind.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “That’s what I thought.”

A moment of silence passed but Eris’s gaze didn’t leave your face. You forced yourself to look into the distance, to watch the hounds as they chased each other in the grass. 

"You didn't answer me.”

You took a breath. "About what?" 

"Do you care for him?"

The words ran through you in a wave, one entirely too heavy for your liking. 

Months ago, the answer would have been obvious— so obvious that the question itself would’ve seemed like a sick joke. Months ago, it would've been instant. No. You did not care for Azriel. He could've died and you would've celebrated; would’ve laughed at the idea of karma finally finding its way to the family you disliked so heavily. 

But something in you had changed recently, changed in a way that made you hesitate at your answer. 

You and Azriel hadn't slept together in weeks. And even those times had been a physical release, something meaningless yet sickly sweet. Yet, the moments since had become even more intimate—the times you caught yourself joking with him, caught your own lingering gaze on his form. 

You’d gone back for him— and you’d repeated that moment in your head multiple times since, thinking back to that tug you felt in your chest, the strange guilt you felt the minute you’d winnowed away. You’d gone back and fought alongside him, had managed to heal him in a way you'd never been able to do for Eris,  never been able to do even for yourself.

You looked at your brother and let out a sharp breath of air. 

"No. I don’t." 

The words felt forced, strained, and you worried that Eris would see through it entirely— would force you to admit a truth you weren’t sure existed. But he only narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and then nodded. 

“Good,” he said, “That would only make matters worse.”

There was something in his tone that made you run cold and you turned your body to face him, watching as his eyes shifted impatiently, the action almost nervous. 

“Eris,” you said cautiously, “What is it?”

A flicker of something ran through his face, something that looked awfully like guilt, like sadness. 

“Y/n” he began, but you lifted a hand up, shaking your head at his attempts to soften the conversation, to gently lead into whatever topic had him so bothered.

”Don’t,” you said firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t use that voice. I’m not a child to be soothed. Tell me.”

Eris sighed. “He’s entertaining the idea of marrying you off to garner more support.” 

A name wasn’t needed as your stomach dropped and your hands fell slack at your sides. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s not true.”

Eris’s shoulders slumped. “It’s why I’ve been so busy. I looked into it. It’s true.”

A strange buzzing sensation began to fill your ears. You shook your head as if to clear it, as if the words Eris would say next could change the ones he had already said.

“No,” you repeated firmer. “Brides are taken at their prime, when they become of age. I’ve been of age for centuries. I- No.”

Eris stepped closer. “He’s seeing it as a way to strengthen inner-court allies, to consolidate power in a more immediate way. Access to our bloodline is an incredible link to influence, any of his men will take the chance.”

Your chest constricted as the words sank in and you felt your hands begin to tremble, felt an unsteady flicker at your fingertips. You met Eris’s gaze, eyes wide, breathing heavy. 

“He’s punishing me.”

Eris swallowed hard and his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He nodded, unable to find the right words. 

”Just give me some time,” Eris finally said, pulling you in by your shoulder. He lowered his head to meet your gaze, his voice falling to a softer, lower tone. “I’ll figure something out, okay? I-I just need some time.”

It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words too. So you only nodded, looking into the distance once more, eyes tracing the circles the hounds ran around each other.

Even in the open air, in this freedom, they were still pets— still animals that were owned, bred throughout history for a singular purpose. 

You’d never realized how much you had in common until now. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

He stepped out of the bath, feeling as the water trailed down his form and the tension in his muscles eased. The steam swirled around him, briefly shrouding him in a comforting fog, and his shadows followed his movements slowly— leisurely. 

Azriel’s wing was healed now and he thought of you whenever he moved it. He remembered how he had slipped into unconsciousness at your touch, how your focused, almost tender face was the last thing he saw before succumbing to the darkness. He thought of you in the moonlight, thought of how your voice softened as you talked about Lucien. Most of all, he thought about the words he’s said himself, words intended to be an apology—- a compliment, even. And how you’d recoiled at them as if he had injured you gravely.

He dressed slowly, his mind being lured in every direction but ultimately falling back to you. Azriel glanced down at his hands, at the scars that marred his skin. Amongst his burns were scars from battles, from missions, and if he squinted hard enough, he could envision the blood that stained them still, even after the liquid had been washed off. 

Every act he committed was etched into his skin, acts done out of loyalty, out of a need to protect those he loved; a need to be important, to be anything but weak. 

Azriel had felt at sea recently, lost even in his own court. He felt like a failure as he watched Rhysand’s worry about Koschei grow throughout the days. He was a spymaster— a warrior. Yet nothing he did seemed to help. His family was restless, on edge, and he felt a bitter pang as his shadows updated him on their every move. Feyre and Rhys had learned to soothe Nyx at night and Cassian and Nesta had begun planning their mating ceremony—something large, grand, and worth her time. He didn’t even want to think of Elain, to think of her alongside the brother that even Azriel’s shadows had grown to like. 

He was happy for them. At least, he told himself so. But he couldn’t shake his feeling of unease, as if he was on unsettled ground. Beneath it all was a sickening sense of jealousy. Everyone— even Amren— had found a purpose, had even found a love that softened them. Azriel hadn’t. 

Maybe that was why he liked the way he felt when he met with you, liked how it had given him a sense of purpose— even if he disliked what that purpose was for. He felt a clarity now, a focus he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

It seemed like a sick joke from the Mother, to give him a sense of purpose when he was alongside you, to find satisfaction in helping you support Eris, the very male Azriel despised with every fiber of his being. If he had grown to respect you in some form, did that mean he respected Eris, too? 

The thought made him want to vomit. 

It was becoming far too easy for you to cloud his thoughts, to overshadow any duties or obligations he had. Normally he would fight against it, burying himself in work, training, anything to keep his mind occupied. But today, he welcomed it, indulged in the sweet sin of your face in his mind. His shadows drifted around him, whispering in his ears the very things he knew himself. He was beginning to feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before, by eyes that had seen the same life as him. 

And it terrified him as much as it comforted him. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You didn’t have time, as it turned out.

Beron had moved into preparations swiftly—faster than you or Eris anticipated. One night he found you, his eyes gleaming with a cruel satisfaction that had Laney preparing to bear her teeth at him in a snarl— you were grateful he didn’t notice, grateful that she listened to your commands.

”You finally have a purpose to fulfill,” he declared. “I never understood why the Mother cursed me with a daughter as my final kin, but now I understand.”

You’d felt your identity slipping away as soon as he growled those words. In the days since, he forced your mother to tightly pull back your hair each night, to help dress you as a prized calf and parade you at his events for Autumn’s most influential— most cunning—figures. They eyed you with calculating, hungry interest, deciding whether you were suitable for themselves or their sons. 

You sat at a table now, the only female among a sea of men. Your mother was never allowed at events like this, never really seen unless she was forced to cling to your fathers arm like a piece of fine jewelry. The plate of food in front of you was half the size of the portions heaped on the plates of the males surrounding you. If you had the energy, you would’ve found it funny. But you didn’t. 

You felt like a prey in a pack of savage beasts, their eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you feel sick; made you feel dirty, as if you were covered in a grime you could never fully wash off.

Beron leaned over and placed his hand over yours. Instantly, you clenched and straightened, a wave of revulsion washing over you in a tide. His grip tightened and he leaned in further, lips curling into a sickening, warning smile.

”Smile,” he commanded tightly. “No one wants a scowling bride.”

As a warning, a flame flickered on his palm and a searing pain spread across your exposed skin. You felt the burn, sharp and cruel, but you didn’t dare flinch. You met his eyes and held them— held that cold, hardened gaze, the same one you saw when you���d look in the mirror, in your eyes that looked exactly like his. 

This was your defiance of tonight. If anything, you could do this. You could match him.

But your father’s smile widened, seemingly satisfied enough with your compliance, and he leaned back, releasing your hand. The burn throbbed on your skin but you remained still. 

You could feel another gaze on you, distinct from the predatory stares of the other males. This gaze was warm, comforting, like the gentle heat of a fire on a cold night or the familiar embrace of a childhood blanket. 

You didn’t dare look over. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the concern in Eris’s eyes from across the table. It would break you in some way you couldn’t control. With the familiar sense of heat underneath your skin, you sat up straighter, tightened your strained grip around the fork you held, and imagined how it would look in the eyes of every male around you— all but your brother.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel wasn’t sure why he hurried as much as he did— why his wings seemed to go faster, why his winnowing was almost instant. But here he was, standing in front of the cabin he’d become so familiar with, listening as his shadows told him that you seemed troubled.

It was the job of a lone shadow of his to trail you, to keep an eye on this cabin— on this place, and to alert Azriel if anything was of importance. It was a precautionary measure at the beginning of your little arrangement, a way to keep track of everything going on, to always have something watching you— the most unpredictable factor in his life, the thing he never saw coming. But he wasn’t sure why he’d continued to send that shadow out even after you both had come to a sort of agreement, a sort of truce born of a miniscule understanding. 

Perhaps it was for reasons like this, for your strange appearances in the Spring Court at nearly four in the morning. 

He knew in his gut that something was wrong even before his shadows told him. 

You looked so put together— that was the first thing Azriel noticed.  The dress you wore was entirely too formal, lacking in the usual flare that accompanied your presence; and your hair was tied back tightly, so neatly and simple it seemed constraining. The way you sat on the grass now, before him, almost resembled the stance of a small child looking at the sky in a sorrowful form of prayer, waiting for a star to shoot by for a wish of yours to be placed upon it.

“Why do you always do that?” 

Your voice rang out clear and goosebumps crawled on Azriel’s skin at the sound, a chill making its way through his body. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t bothered looking away from your stare at the sky. Part of him was tempted to remain still, to back further into the darkness that surrounded him. 

“Stare at me afar like a creep?” You added.

Finally, you turned to look at where he stood and Azriel found himself stepping forward, allowing his shadows to disappear around his body. He didn’t offer you an answer, opting to flex his hands— his clammy, tense hands— as he continued to walk forward. You followed his every movement.

“What are you doing here?” 

Azriel’s voice was neutral, monotone. 

You raised your eyebrows. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He frowned at the response. He’d expected something snippier, something more you— he’d grown accustomed to it, to the snark that he’d return easily. He took a moment to think, to rummage through his thoughts like an overly-cluttered junk drawer. 

“Don’t you think this is a bit pathetic,” Azriel said, “Sulking on the dirty grass in the middle of the night?”

His voice was stern. But as much as he’d attempted to ensure it was devoid of emotion, there was a trace of something in his words, a hint of concern. A part of him, one larger than he’d care to admit, was pushing him to be softer, to tell you he was worried, to offer help pick you up. But he refrained. You would push him away the minute you sensed a semblance of pity. This he already knew.

You gave a humorless laugh and there was a strained sense of sorrow that Azriel recognized instantly.  You stood up. “I guess so. You’d know a thing or two about what being pathetic looks like.”

He gritted his teeth and took a steadying breath. His shadows curled around his wrists and he fought with them as they strained to extend further, to slither down his body and towards you. 

There was a tense silence before he spoke again. "I heard Beron is arranging your marriage."

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes met his— the fire in them still visible in the moonlight, but entirely too dull compared to what they’d looked like weeks ago. You took in his form, the straightness of his posture and the tuck of his wings. Even at this hour he was clad in his fighting leathers, poised and deadly like the image of ruin. 

“How do you know that?”

Azriel gave a small, almost nonchalant shrug. “I have spies in every court.”

“Doesn't it defeat the purpose if you tell me?”

“Wouldn't you find them, anyways?

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You stared at each other for a moment and Azriel’s eyes seemed to soften with an internal conflict. He cocked his head at you and you forced yourself to look away, finding new interest on the ground below you.

“Is that why you’re here?”

When you met his eyes once more, he took a sharp intake of breath. 

“I have nowhere else to go.”

Azriel’s mind reeled again. While he felt stuck in place, forged to the very ground he stood on, his brain threw him into every memory he held of you— back to the first times he’d seen you standing alongside Eris. 

He saw the memories in an entirely different light. Before, Eris had domineered over you, had poised his body in front of you and your mother in a way to assert his dominance as the heir to the throne, to remind those around him that you were both females at the end of the day. But now, Az saw it as what it truly was: protection. A bodily shield similar to that he’d done himself to Morrigan, to Amren, to his High Lady. 

You never came to official meetings, were never seen at political gatherings. There were multiple reasons for this, Azriel had gathered. First and foremost, you were a female. And to Beron, females had no place in politics—- no place in his court beyond eye candy and child bearing. His wife was always there, yes, but she never spoke. Never did so much as lift her hand. Azriel could’ve believed that she was nothing more than a doll, not truly living; not truly alive. He didn’t even know her name beyond her title, Lady of Autumn, a female that belonged to her court; nameless beyond the one thing that established her— her husband. 

And beyond being a female, you were their youngest, their only daughter. You were to be protected, to be molded into the perfect wife, ready to be sold off to the highest— and most powerful— male. He’d never bothered to think about that last fact. He never cared. But as you stood in front of him, he indeed felt bothered, felt unsettled at the idea. 

“I feel bad for the male who will be tied to you for the rest of his life.”

“Because I’m that awful?” You scanned his face, your voice veering between wounded and sardonic. “Here I thought you’d be jealous because he’d get to fuck me for the rest of mine.”

Something flashed in Azriel’s eyes and the shadows on his face grew harsher as he clenched his jaw. But then, for a moment, his eyes seemed to soften, turning from a molten brown to a soft honey. “That’s not what I meant.”

"Then what did you mean?"

He took a deep breath and you could’ve sworn you saw a twitch in his hand, saw it move out slightly before he pulled it back in, as if he wanted to reach out, to place a hand on yours. 

"Ownership doesn't suit you. Any male who thinks he has a claim on you is in for a rude awakening.”

 You looked away. "It's not like I have a choice."

"You always have a choice.”

You met his gaze again, a dry laugh bubbling up. Azriel’s face was serious, sincere, and it made your blood boil with a sense of resentment that felt comical. You could taste it: the bitter feeling in your throat and the burning in your stomach, like something making its way from your esophagus to your mouth.

"Of course you would say that."

Azriel's brow furrowed slightly and his body tensed in response. "What does that mean?”

You shook your head, running your tongue along your teeth before you turned to face him fully, jaw tight, teeth clenched. Azriel wore a sense of self-loathing like second skin. You could smell it on him, could see it in the way he walked, in the way he interacted with those around him. You noticed it from the first time you’d met, watched as he longingly looked at Morrigan, as that self-loathing filled his eyes and dripped into his features. You knew the feeling well, knew how to recognize it. 

And you wanted to laugh at the fact. The male before you hated himself so much because he had room to do so. He was powerful enough to let it fester, was comfortable enough to set aside time for his self-pity. The Night Court, despite how much you hated it, had freedoms that yours would never give you. Rhysand granted his family privileges that they never acknowledged.  You felt the urge to tell Azriel exactly that, to shove a finger into his chest and chastise him for such foolish, childish sentiments.  

But instead, you found yourself asking him a question that took both of you by surprise. 

“Why do you despise me?”

Azriel blinked and his shadows stilled, their movements halting around his body. “What?”

“Tell me,” you said, “Tell me why you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened. “Eris–”

You cut him off. “I asked why you hated me. Not my brother.”

His mouth tightened and he remained silent, his wings twitching  slightly as if they bore the weight of his thoughts. The shadows that usually danced around him like a protective barrier were now motionless, and you felt a twisting sensation in your gut, a cold, coiling dread.

"You know,” you said, your voice low, a hint of anger lacing your words. "It's not only hate that I have felt for you."

He stiffened. "Then what else?"

"Jealousy," you admitted, the word leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Bitter, suffocating jealousy. I'm envious of you, Shadowsinger. You have this court that you love, this family that can get away with anything and you don't even acknowledge it.”

You’d always been a jealous person. By the gods, you’d tried your best to get over it. But it was rooted in something deeper than superficial envy— especially when it came to Azriel. 

There was something about the moonlight, about these darkened skies, that made it easier to be honest, something that almost compelled a sense of vulnerability. And as you stared at him, felt his gaze burn into yours, you felt a cold shiver of realization roll throughout your skin. 

“I’ve come to realize that you and I are entirely too similar for my liking. And I am so unbelievably envious that I’m punished for everything you are praised for.”

Azriel stilled, his movements slowing as though your words had struck him with the force of a physical blow. His chest tightened and an urgency wrapped itself around his ribs like a vise, constricting with each breath.

Azriel had always hated you. It was a visceral, almost instinctive reaction that he never fully understood until now. You were a mirror of him—a reflection of the darkness he harbored within himself, the parts of him that he loathed. Your cunning, your ruthlessness, this sense of loyalty that left you desperate, that led you to tearing apart pieces of yourself. All qualities he recognized, all qualities he despised in himself. 

It was easier to hate you than to face the self-loathing that gnawed at him. To acknowledge that you were a product of your environment, just as he was. But as much as he tried to detest you, as much as he tried to push you away, his hatred for you had spilled into desire, something sickly sweet and thick. It ran down his body and even after he’d scrubbed himself clean, even after he’d rid himself of his urges as he took you from behind—- it was still there, coating his skin. He was unable to rid himself of the burning that had settled in his chest, the longing he refused to admit; because that hatred, that desire, had grown into something else, something just as hot, just as all consuming. 

It had turned into admiration. 

His expression softened, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. "You’re right."

A silence settled between you, thick and heavy. Azriel's gaze wavered, his eyes searching yours as if he were sifting through the layers you held. You felt a flutter in your chest, a vulnerable ache that made you want to recoil and step closer all at once.

You stared at him, at the way his wings perched over him like a dark, protective shroud, at how his shadows seemed to radiate off him in waves. The heat beneath your skin intensified, a simmering fire that burned hotter the longer you looked at him. Your eyes drifted to his wing, to the area that had been torn open the last time you saw him. The scar had healed, but the memory of it was still fresh in your mind. You looked back at his face, at the way he hadn’t dared to look away. 

Azriel's face was hauntingly and devastatingly beautiful, a creature of the night, perfectly in his element under the moonlit sky. Your chest felt tight, as if your ribs were being pulled apart, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t save Eris. You couldn’t outrun the fate your father had set for you. 

You wanted it all to go away, to forget who you were, where you were.

Without another thought, you threw yourself at Azriel, your lips crashing against his in an angry, heady kiss. The intensity of it was almost violent, something born out of desperation, out of a need to feel something other than the suffocating anger that had taken residence in your heart.

He pulled away for a moment, his brows furrowing as he took in your face. His eyes fell to your lips. You waited for it— for the abandonment of reluctance that had become a routine, for him to stare at you, for that stare to turn hungry, predatory, and for him to surge forward and claim your lips with his. But Azriel didn’t move towards you. He shook his head and took a step back. 

“What is it?” you breathed, your voice trembling, edged with frustration. “Have you suddenly gained morals? Do you not want this?”

He hesitated. “No. Not like this,” Azriel said and you bristled at the words. They weren’t entirely dismissive, but they felt charged with something that left your mouth dry, left it difficult for you to breathe. “I don’t want your anger.”

“What does that mean?”

His eyes flickered, as if trying to blink away the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I don’t know.”

The uncertainty in his voice made your chest feel tighter. An almost embarrassing sensation of exposure washed over you, as if your entire life had led to being denied the one sick pleasure you’d found. 

“Why did you come here?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, this time firmer, more desperate. His shadows churned around him, dark tendrils of darkness twisting and writhing like a storm gathering strength, charged with an unsettling energy.

It set you on edge. Your fingers twitched, and you clenched your hands into fists to stop their trembling. 

“Well, what do you know?”

Azriel looked at you, a crease in his brows, his expression a mix of pain and relief as he finally responded, his eyes burning. “That you have plagued my mind for weeks.”

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice teetering between curiosity and a simmering anger. It was a blend of emotions you couldn't quite unravel—whether you sought answers or were simply lashing out. “What do you want?”

He shook his head, attempting to take another step back, growing more furious with himself at the motion. You moved closer, bringing your hand to his arm and he felt the burn of your touch through his leathers. You were a nightmare and he felt desperate to keep you as you pleaded with him, voice rising, fiery in spirit and heart. 

“Tell me what you want, Shadowsinger.”

You weren't sure what came over you, why you suddenly felt desperate for him to tell you what you felt was true, for him to admit it. It felt like you were on the edge of a great precipice, your heart tugging and tightening in your chest all at once, needing him to look at you, growing anxious, angry, even. You wanted his truth, wanted his confession and his sin all in one.

And then you continued, voice suddenly tender, seeking. “Tell me what you want and I can give it to you.”

He willed himself to look at you and his chest rose with his uneven breaths. 

“You,” he managed to breathe, shivering with craving.

Once the admission fell from his mouth, Azriel was done for. “I want you.” 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

As an extra treat, the wonderfully talented @micahssketchbook gifted us with an illustrated version of this confession 🥹

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note:

yknow.... if theres one thing ill give these angst fuckers credit for is that they are so honest with each other, like tell me why reader is more honest with az than rhys was with his own wife 😭

anyways everyone thank @writingcroissant as usual for inspiring me (forcing me) to finish this part when i was tempted to delete everything

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii

[ceoofyearning]

I only pray, don’t fall away from me

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The world feels like it’s falling apart around you, but Azriel finally comes home and helps you hold all the pieces together.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt and Comfort, depressive themes & thoughts, anxiety, nightmares, mentions of a minor character death (not the mc/reader) || please mind the tags.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this week was though so here’s a bit of a hurt & comfort fic; hope your days are kind to you guys xoxo

Links: Fic Masterlist | My Art

You’re so damn tired.

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. The healing house has been filled to the brim with the wounded and sick. Altercations with Beron’s soldiers by the border have been increasing at an alarming rate, while countless spies from the continent have been winnowed in after being caught by Koschei’s contingent forces. You can’t even begin to imagine the state of the civilians that might’ve been caught in the crossfire. 

There is tension in the air with the threat of the inevitable war looming on the horizon. It doesn’t help that the winter chill, in all of its foreboding fury, has come to ravage the lands and its people. You love your work as a healer, you really do. Some days, the thought of the good you do, the people you help, is enough to keep you going. But too often, it feels like a thankless job that leaves you drained to the core. 

In your free time, you’ve been parsing through ancient texts in search of information on Death Gods and anything that could be used against Koschei. His looming threat is a cloud of dread that hangs over everyone, especially Rhys. The least you could do is to help carry the burden. It’s not like you could sleep, anyway. These days it is as though your mind adamantly refuses to let you rest. At the very least, the task keeps you distracted when you’re stuck alone in your apartment. 

Ever since Azriel had been sent to the continent for a reconnaissance mission nearly a month ago, the apartment you share has started to feel a little too big, too desolate. Before you knew it, the white walls had been transmuted from your home into what felt like the bars of a cage. 

The two of you haven't been apart for so long since the mating bond snapped. You didn’t think you'd feel his absence as acutely as you did, but it felt like the loss of a limb where the wound refused to heal and you were already bleeding out. His part of the bond is blacked out completely, a devouring void where Azriel’s comforting presence should have been. It’s for your own safety, he said. But you can’t help it. You’re plagued with worry, with imagined hurts and tragedies, amplifying the brewing conflict in your mind. 

It is easier to catch yourself when Azriel is near. When the thoughts begin to swirl like a hurricane around you - winds whipping, oceans rising - it feels like Azriel’s arms are the only safe harbor you can rely on. But Azriel isn’t here now. 

What frustrates you most is that you’ve been better recently. You’ve been good. You ate your meals, slept reasonably, even had a goddamned routine set up. You guzzled down your tonics in hopes of smoothing out the edges of your frayed mind, that perhaps it could lend you some semblance of normalcy. But no. Weeks of being haunted by nightmares, of overextending yourself, of loss and suffering seeping under your skin day by day have taken its toll. 

You are just too damn tired. 

A child died, barely over thirteen years old. She was bastard-born, which meant she had nothing to her name other than the rags on her back and her birthright to suffer generational oppression and cruelty. This is the worst winter the Night Court has had in centuries, and she didn’t even have a decent roof over her head. Needless to say, she hadn’t been in the best health. But despite that, the moment her cycle had come, the men forced her to go through the clipping. In her struggle, the imbeciles accidentally nicked a vital artery. Normally, her Illyrian healing would’ve granted her a strong chance for survival, but she had been so sick, her body weakened by hours spent in the frigid cold. 

By the time you had been summoned to heal her, she no longer had the strength to recover. Numbness washed over you at the image of her unseeing eyes, the same shade as Azriel’s in the right light, trained toward the vast empty sky. You have a feeling it isn’t a sight you’d forget any time soon. 

You don’t know how long it’s been. The room is shrouded with a thick blanket of darkness, the only respite coming from the dwindling candlelight by your bedside. Only silence exists within these four walls, interrupted by the occasional patter of water leaking from the kitchen sink. You burrow deeper into the sheets, inhaling the trace of Azriel’s scent that still lingered like it would somehow quell this ache inside you. 

Despite spending most of the day bedbound, you’ve barely had any sleep. There is no respite to be found in the dreaming, only nightmares lying in wait. It seems your mind has a knack of bringing your worst fears. Azriel bruised, bloodied and utterly alone, lost, somewhere in the vastness of the continent, hazel eyes - his, then hers, then his again - glazing over, crimson seeping into the arid ground below. 

For the last few weeks, you’ve gathered your grief and worry like rocks to wear around your neck. Your body is heavy, the phantom weight sinking and settling within the marrow of your bones, refusing to leave. It feels like you could stay in this bed forever until you dissipate into nothing but sand, smoke and thought.

You managed to send out a request for the texts Rhys needed translated, but not much else. You’re thankful he directly portalled them on your worktable because you don’t think you could brave the journey to the library today. You don’t think you could do much of anything today, in all honesty. 

So there you lay, bundled up in a collection of blankets, at least three inches of cotton and down that never seem enough to warm you. A book rests in your hands, yet your eyes remain unfocused, not truly seeing the words.

You run your thumb over the crisp paper, knowledge older than you, older than this city and yet you couldn't even bring yourself to focus long enough to dissect their true meaning. Your will is liquid in your hands, slipping through the cracks in between your fingers. Accidentally, you tug too hard on a page and it tears easily beneath your touch. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve been horrified by what you’ve just done. But as you are now, it is difficult to care. 

That’s what you feel like at this moment, you realize. These past few weeks have left you feeling spent, worn out, paper thin. Absently, you stretch out your hand towards the candlelight, close enough to feel the warmth lick against your cool skin. The flame casts a brilliant silhouette around your shadowed hand. It’s a wonder why golden light doesn’t seep right through. 

That’s how Azriel finds you.

The front door of your apartment creeks open, letting in a flood of muted morning light. Your first instinct is to retreat beneath the covers to shield yourself. Azriel calls your name in the silence, worry permeating each syllable. No doubt, he is cataloging the mess your shared space had become in your unintentional neglect. 

You say nothing, wondering if you could just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, anything to escape his scrutiny. A breath of relief escapes him when he finds you in bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you. 

The urge to curl tighter around yourself is strong. But he repeats your name and, as though he had cast a spell, you unspool before him, your muscles unwinding, one fiber at a time. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, voice painfully soft.

“Okay,” you croak out from beneath the blankets. 

Azriel gradually draws the sheets away from your body, giving you ample time to protest if you’d like. Then, he rests his hand on your shoulder. Unbidden, a shiver runs down your spine, followed by a stuttered breath. You don’t realize how much you missed his touch until his textured hand begins its soothing path up and down your back, his heat sinking into your skin. 

Shame washes over you despite the bone-deep comfort you find upon his gentle ministrations. You don’t want him to see you this way. Azriel deserves better, the voices in your head insist. He deserves a mate whose mind does not devour itself at every given opportunity, a mate who does not quake beneath the weight of the world and the idea of their own immortal existence.

As though detecting your train of thought, his shadows leave their preferred perch on his shoulders to pool around you instead. Tendrils of darkness brush away the tears on your face, while some thread through your hair like a gentle breeze. 

On the other hand, Azriel urges you to rest your head on his lap. He begins to run his hand through your hair, uncaring of how greasy and tangled it has become. Eventually, his voice pierces the silence, injecting warmth into the distance between you. He hums a tune you do not recognize, but you can't help but cling to each winding note like a lifeline. Azriel has always had a beautiful voice - depthless, silken and soothing. It feels like a privilege to hear the song that he normally reserves for his shadows.

You must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold, and yet Azriel never looks at you like you are. He always treats you like something to cherish, something to love, like you’re someone he’s spent lifetimes desperately waiting for and you’ve been entirely worth the wait. A traitorous part of you feels like you’ll never deserve it, this love.

Azriel must sense the hurricane of emotions waging a one-sided war in your head, despite the mental shields you adamantly keep up. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t brush off your worry with empty words and false promises. Instead, he simply says, “I love you.” 

He speaks it as though it is a fact like one would say that the sky is blue, and the grass is green, and the world would keep on turning in peteruity, orbiting the sun the same way you’ll continue to orbit around each other. His chapped lips ghost over your temple, murmuring your name like a plea, a prayer. 

“More than anything in this world,” he adds as he pulls you into his embrace. 

Your body is pliant for him, arms winding around his neck like that is where they’re meant to be. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you impossibly closer. Webbed wings stretch to curl around the two of you, creating a cocoon of darkness that keeps the rest of the world at bay. With your head resting on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding in chorus with yours. 

“I love you too,” you reply after a long stretch of silence. “But sometimes I wish you could’ve had a better mate.” 

“There is no one better,” Azriel insists. “There is only you, my love; through light, through darkness, through whichever end. Only you.” And you feel the truth of his words as surely as the twinned beating of your hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to convince your traitorous mind that you could have this, that someone could love you so deeply despite having seen you at your worst. Azriel presses another kiss against your cheek, and despite yourself, you begin to believe his words.

You don’t know how long Azriel holds you like that, but it finally feels like a stretch of eternity you could bear.

“What can I do to help, love?” Azriel prompts, cupping your face in the cradle of his scarred palms - their texture, a familiar comfort. 

You turn over his question in your head for a few moments, savoring his scent, the sensation of his skin against your own. A part of you is tempted to ask him to lay beside you for the rest of the day, for a week, for an entire lifetime. You know Azriel would if you asked it of him. But beyond this room, the world continues its elliptical path around the sun and time still ticks on regardless of how disconnected you feel from your own reality. 

“A bath,” is all you manage to say.

Azriel nods, before reluctantly peeling himself from you. “Have you eaten?” 

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble as you sink back into the sheets, sighing as the comforter swallows you up. In truth, you can’t remember when your last meal had been. Hunger didn’t seem so pressing in the last few days.

“That’s not what I asked.” Azriel’s tone leaves no room for argument or negotiation. 

“No,” you finally answer, although with much trepidation. “Not yet.” 

He hums, clearly displeased, but says nothing else. You can already imagine the frown that must be stretching across his face. But it seems Azriel’s presence alone is enough to quieten your mind, at least for now. You must’ve been dead tired because it doesn’t take long for the rhythmic sound of Azriel's familiar footfalls to lull you into dreamless sleep.

"Love," Azriel whispers, his hand hovering over your shoulder, rousing you from your shallow slumber. You blink languidly until molten eyes come into focus. The candlelight flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Azriel’s normally sharp features are softened by the tenderness in his expression. You’ll never tire of waking to the sight of him. 

With a groan, you half-roll half-stumble out of bed. Azriel stays an arm’s length away in case you need him, but he’s careful not to crowd you. His shadows have no such reservations, however. The dark tendrils fretfully twine around your arms, making you smile. You thank them quietly, and for a moment, they seem to dance with delight. Regardless of your initial unsteadiness, you manage to pad all the way to the bathroom.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sweet scent of jasmine immediately overtakes your senses. The tub has already been filled up, steam rising from the sun-covered surface. You begin to unbutton your tunic, clumsy fingers tumbling through your first few attempts. Azriel steadies your hands with his firm grip, his shadows gently circling your wrists. 

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your tunic, and you nod, not wanting to think anymore. His movements are precise, almost clinical, while he undoes the first five buttons, before bunching the garment in his hands and pulling it over your head entirely. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh once exposed to the cold air. Azriel is careful to keep his gaze on your face, even as you step out of your undergarments. 

Azriel only betrays his composure when he traces your cheekbone, like he can’t quite help himself. From this distance, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. The bond glows bright between you, the golden thread gleaming as though it hadn't spent the last few weeks completely stretched thin. 

But then, Azriel withdraws, tilting his head to the steaming tub. Obediently, you step into the water’s warm embrace, the heat nearly stinging your skin. Logically, however, you know it’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to stay in the cold for too long. 

A relieved sigh escapes you as you sink further into the tub. One of his shadows rushes to pillow your heavy head as it rests on the tub’s rim. You thank the sweet little thing, and swirls of black sway back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. Meanwhile, Azriel takes his place by the head of the tub, sitting back on his heels. 

“I’d like to wash your hair,” he says and you're touched by the earnest quality his voice takes. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You’ve never been good at denying Azriel anything, nor did you want to. The more the ice beneath your skin thaws, the more you find that you want him near. 

Azriel begins by running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he pours warm water over your head. With a pop of a bottle, the floral scent of shampoo fills the air. He lathers the substance on your head, his touch tender even as his fingers work through the knots in the strands, untangling them with care. 

After a while, he rinses off the suds and coats his hands with oil. He begins combing his fingers through your hair, starting from the ends and working his way up. The rhythmic motion of his fingers is calming as he draws circles against your scalp. You find yourself melting into the moment, feeling utterly content for the first time in what feels like a very long time. 

Once done, Azriel grabs a small towel and asks, “Do you want help washing?”

You shake your head, wanting to do this for yourself, at least. Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he spares you a soft smile. With that, Azriel leaves the towel by the tub and politely excuses himself from the room. With the door left slightly ajar, you could still hear him move around the apartment followed by the lyrical clinking of silverware against ceramic.

It takes you a few minutes to gather the energy to lather yourself with soap, and a few more to finally rise from the bath. But once the grime is off your skin, you feel a bit of the weight wash off with it too. You feel a bit more like yourself.

After drying off, you tug on the silk robe Azriel has left for you, securing it loosely around your waist. Upon exiting, you spy him by the dining table, scooping a generous serving of soup into a bowl. The mouthwatering aroma of rich broth wafts through the room, and you realize just how hungry you are when your stomach growls in protest. You approach him from behind, making sure that each step is audible.

Azriel continues to set up the table, but you can tell he’s aware of your presence from the way his shoulders seem to relax. The sudden urge to have him close is palpable, an instinct so deeply ingrained into your being. So,  gradually, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his back. You take a deep inhale, breathing him in - a lungful of moontime mist and cedarwood smoke. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmur against Azriel’s back, your voice muffled by his shirt. 

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispers. His hands abandon their task in favor of twining his fingers with your own. 

Azriel turns to face you and holds your face in his hands. Beneath the swathes of sunlight, his eyes are alight with golden flame, flecks of green scattered over his irises like an afterthought. There is nothing but love in his gaze, nothing but acceptance. 

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head so the words could kiss his lips, not quite touching but close. “For being here, for loving me, for choosing me, everyday.” 

“I will always choose you,” he vows, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Today,” another peck on the tip of your nose; “Tomorrow,” one more on your cheek; “And all the days after,” he finishes with a chaste caress on your lips.

Then, he rests his forehead on yours, your bodies slotted against each other like a lock and its predestined key. In Azriel’s presence, you find it easier to breathe, easier to simply be. For the first time in a long time, your mind is clear and your heart beats in a calm, languid pace that matches his own.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you request, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel’s gaze is searching, scouring for any hint of anything short of absolute certainty. Perhaps you should tell him that in this world of constant change and chaos, he’s the only one you’re certain of.

Azriel must be satisfied with what he finds written across your features because he replies, “So kiss me then,” the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips.

You’re surprised to find that it’s easy to return the playful expression. Your rise to the tips of your toes while your fingers thread through his raven black hair. When your lips touch, it is as though the world breathes a sigh of relief. Reality realigns and everything outside the two of you and your shared breaths turns inconsequential. He moves against you with practiced ease, like the natural ebb and flow of the tide.

An eternity of this, you think, doesn’t seem so daunting after all. 

AN: i’m not sure if that was too much but thank you for reading 💙 As always, i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk thru dm! 💙

Also, I just wanted to yap about the Az fics im in the process of writing:

1. Vampire!Azriel x Reader (Working tittle: Ashes in my wake)

I just love the idea of cannibalism (or yk, blood drinking) as a metaphor for love in literature so here we are. ( @/annikin-im-panicin this is ur influence) This one is a bit of a dark fic (nothing too crazy tho, I think), so i’m not sure how it’ll be received. But the idea has been haunting me for yonks so I just had to write it.

2. Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Lucien’s Best Friend!Reader (Working tittle: Drink dry the river Lethe)

This one is a multichapter fic (maybe 4-7 chapters, we’ll see) so it might take me a while before I start posting, but i’ve mostly finished writing the first (very smutty) and second (very angsty) chapter. I ‘m not entirely sure what direction to bring this yet but maybe you guys can help me decide?

Unrelated to Az, but i’ve been brainworming a poly dark-ish innocent!reader x Feysand fic, and a slightly less dark and more sappy(?) poly warrior!reader x royal!nessian fic. I’m so excited to start these but my pile of wips is giving me the stink eye 😂

[prythianpages]

Just A Girl | Eris x Rhysand's Sister

series masterlist | summary: Your father throws a ball in your honor. When Beron belittles you, you decide to show him what you're capable of, catching the attention of his firstborn.

word count: 2K

a/n: Hi guys! It's been a hot minute since I've written anything and I feel rusty lol (kinda like when you stop riding your bike and have to relearn type of feel.) Anyway, this is entirely based off no doubt's just a girl bc I felt like it gave off Rhys's sister vibes and then I thought why not incorporate this into an au I had planned for an Eris x Rhys's sister one shot??

“When I’m High Lord, I’ll go–”

“I’m sure you’ll go far,” you interrupt, a half smile playing on your lips as you look up at the first born of Spring. With his luscious blond hair, striking green eyes, and well-defined jawline, he's undeniably a sight to behold. Unfortunately, his personality doesn't match his looks—dull yet somehow arrogant and miserably misogynistic. 

You don’t have it in you to spare him a moment longer, especially not when his overbearing pride is becoming overwhelming for your senses. You push past the desire to call upon your abilities and manipulate his emotions into something more humbling. He is not worth exposing your powers.

With a pat on his shoulder–too harsh for his liking– you add, “and I really hope you stay there. It was nice speaking with you, Heathen.”

“It’s Heath.”

You give an uninterested hum before making your way to the refreshments table, desperate for something to soothe the tension between your brows. A silent prayer is sent to the Cauldron that no other male approaches you with a lame attempt at conversation. If they are interested in you, they should at least be able to hold a good one. One that doesn’t incorporate any microaggressions toward you.

Fortunately for you, it is your brother who approaches you next. He takes your–what was it? fourth or sixth, you can’t remember– champagne flute from your grasp with an effortless ease. A glare settles upon your features as you watch him chug it before fixing your gaze straight ahead, to the dais where your father and mother sit. 

Your father occupies the grand throne, while your mother sits beside him in a smaller, less ornate chair. The Lady of the Night Court—magnificent and burdened with countless responsibilities—receives none of the praise that is lavished upon your father. Despite her contributions to your court, she is not held in the same regard… simply because she is a female.

It leaves you to wonder what your destiny is.

Rhysand looks at you with sympathy, and you realize that in your moment of vulnerability, you've let your mental shields slip. “Please, save your breath,” you mutter.

Sensing Cassian and Azriel approaching, you flash them a small, relieved smile. “And please, stay by my side,” you say, your eyes scanning the room where multiple pairs of eyes are fixed on you. You feel so exposed and though it’s no surprise, it still leaves you unsettled. When your gaze meets that of one of Autumn's sons, you quickly look away and strengthen the shield around you.

“I could use my scary brother privileges right now.”

“Who are we scaring, princess?” Cassian asks, flexing his muscles as he pretends to adjust the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows.

Azriel lets out a snort, but his keen eyes are already scanning the room, easily locating the Autumn male. The red-haired male immediately cowers under his cold, hard stare.

“No one.” Rhysand replies, shooting them both a warning look. He then turns to you and you don’t need his daemati abilities to know what he’s about to say. “y/n–”

“Don’t you think I know exactly where I stand?” You interrupt him with an exhausted sigh.

Tonight was a celebration–a ball to honor you and all you’ve done for the Night Court during the war. When the war started, you were twenty-three and deemed too young to participate. Though, at that age, Rhysand had already completed the bloodrite and was esteemed a formidable warrior. You were fortunate that your father allowed you to train and even more so that he allowed you to join the Night Court council.

You quickly mastered the politics of war and the intricacies of the Prythian courts. Midway through the war, your father entrusted you to visit the war camps and delegate on his behalf. There was no doubt that it was a privilege you were granted due to your powers. Still, you embraced it eagerly and tonight was the night you would officially be recognized as an emissary.

But of course, many–especially the sons of the High Lords–confused tonight as your debutante ball. You were in your third decade, after all. While your brother was recognized as a fierce warrior and heir, you were regarded as a highly sought out bachelorette. 

Lucky you.

“I am meant to be pretty and docile,” you continue, gesturing to yourself. 

The dress you wore was far from your usual preference. The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and sequins, featured a sweetheart neckline that teased a glimpse of your breast—but not too much. The skirt of the gown was voluminous, made of layers of soft tulle that shimmered with every step as the light caught the scattered sequins. It was a beautiful black ball gown, crafted by your mother's talented hands. Yet, you much preferred dresses that clung to you like a second skin, revealing more of your figure.

To put it frankly, you felt quite suffocated in this gown. And you rather not even get started on your makeup. You were transformed into a perfect painting of a sweet and innocent princess. Not the daring and powerful female you knew yourself to be.

“Desirable but not too attainable.”

 “However, that does not mean I need to be consistently tortured by dull conversations and hungry stares from controlling males,” you finish, crossing your arms against your chest with a scowl. “No one has even asked me about my role in this court.”

“Oh, yeah. How is it being an emissary to the Night Court?” Cassian asks, earning a smack to the back of his head from Azriel.

“Just splendid,” you reply with a sarcastic smile.

“You played a significant role in establishing peace between Spring and the rest of the courts after the war. I’m sure your efforts will not go unnoticed,” Rhysand assures you.

“Perhaps I played my role too well. Heathen has seemed to have taken an interest in me.”

It’s as if he heard his name being called, for the blonde male’s gaze meets yours across the ballroom. He winks at you with that stupid, cocky smirk of his. A grimace crosses your face. You had been hoping your conversation from earlier would deter him. It seems it has only spurred him on.

“He’s... pretty,” Rhysand starts, but then trails off, struggling to find a compliment for Heath. “Pretty full of himself,” he finally manages, shooting you an almost apologetic glance.

Both of you erupt into laughter.

“It could be worse,” Azriel comments after a moment, a futile attempt at making you feel better. “It could be the heir to Autumn. As the by-product of growing up under Beron’s cruelty, I hear he’s pretty ruthless. Might even turn out to be crueler than him. At least Heath isn’t as bright…”

“Ouch,” Cassian says with a playful wince, almost feeling bad for the Spring heir.

Your eyes find the male in question. Eris Vanserra. His vibrant red hair makes him and his siblings easy to spot in a crowded room. Surprisingly, Eris hasn't made any attempt to approach you tonight. Unlike his brothers. Instead, he stands by his mother's side. She appears uncomfortable and weary, her arm linked with his as she rubs her swollen, pregnant belly.

 As you focus on him, you feel a mix of anger and concern. “Somehow, I doubt that,” you voice your thoughts out loud, following the trail of emotions. Your eyes land on the recipient of his anger. Beron. The High Lord of Autumn stands amongst the other High Lords, engaged in conversation with your father.

Sensing your gaze on him, your father looks up from where you stand. He holds a hand up, summoning you and your brother.

“Time to shine,” Rhysand says, holding his hand out to you.

**

“Ah, my son,” your father greets with a smile as you and Rhysand come to a stop before him and the other High Lords. He then turns to you, violet eyes alight with pride that has your chest swelling with warmth. At least your father recognizes your worth and you don't dare to wonder if he'd see you the same if you weren't blessed with your power.

“My daughter, the guest of honor," he introduces, reaching for your hand to pull you to his side. You offer a polite smile and curtsy to the High Lords. “Y/n has done a lot for this court and all of Prythian. Tonight is a means to show my immense gratitude and present her with the official title of lead emissary of the Night Court.”

It is the High Lord of the Winter Court who speaks first, offering a slight bow of his head. “I look forward to continuing working with you, Lady y/n.”

“A wise and thoughtful member of the Night Court.” High Lord Thesan says with an amiable smile, the High Lords of Day, Summer and Spring sharing his sentiments.

However, the same cannot be said for the High Lord of Autumn. His lips curl in distaste, the thought of having to interact with a female tasting sour on his tongue. He had tolerated you before but only due to the war.

“You expect me to welcome her to my court to discuss important matter?" Beron huffs. "She’s just a girl.”

You don’t speak. You don’t even make a sound. But the look in your eyes…the look in your eyes was downright murderous.

Memories begin to flood your mind of you being berated and undermined. The box in which you had locked away your emotions can no longer contain them. A wave of anger and frustration begins to surge forth...

Rhysand knew exactly what was about to happen, his hand silently reaching out for yours. To hold you back.

But it was too late. Your mind was like a wall of steel. Impenetrable.

All you saw was red, your wings bursting forth from your glamor, unfurling behind you. They tore through the seams of your dress, provoking gasps. Swiftly, your magic mends the fabric, accommodating your true form.

Tendrils of darkness emanate from your outstretched hands, weaving through the air like sinister ribbons. Your gaze, unwavering and intense, remains fixated on Beron.  With each movement of your fingers, the room plunges deeper into shadow. The once-illuminated space is now consumed by a thick veil of darkness. Even Azriel’s shadows, accustomed to the darkness themselves, cling onto him like a second skin.

As the last glimmer of light fades into oblivion, the ballroom becomes a chamber of obsidian night. With a mere thought, you tap into the emotions swirling within the hearts of those present. Careful to be subtle upon the intrusion as you do not want to expose the true extent of your abilities.

You summon only the most negative emotions like a maestro orchestrating a symphony. Screams erupt, drawing your lips upwards. You can feel resistance against your power and whether it is from your father or brother or even one of the other High Lords, you can’t tell.

Gathering all your pent up frustrations, you use it to fuel your strength, wanting to hold onto this moment of mayhem just a bit longer. It is only when you feel Beron’s heart racing, feel the trace of fear threatening to dim the fire in his veins that you let go.

In the blink of an eye, your tendrils of darkness disperse, succumbing to the resistance. The faelights around the ballroom shimmer to life once more and the moon’s light seeps back into the room. It casts an ethereal glow over you, revealing the calm and cool expression on your face. Yet, your eyes remain seething with the fury of a dark, raging storm.

Beron's scowl deepens at your display. He parts his mouth in disbelief, looking towards your father, who says nothing. Beron then looks back at you.

For once in his miserable life, he is at a loss for words. Pride swells in your chest and you push against the talons raking across your mind, wanting to bask in your small victory.

“I’m just a girl,” you finally say and then give a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders before turning to leave.

Reveling in the animosity radiating off of him, your smirk deepens as you recognize a faint trace of humiliation somewhere among the fire of his wrath.

The assembled crowd parts before you, their gazes a mixture of disdain, shock, and fear. You keep your head held high and eyes focused straight ahead. Dread begins to settle in, the onset of a headache from overexertion threatening to break your composure.

Still, you carry on, feigning nonchalance. The only sounds echoing through the room are the hushed whispers and the sharp click of your heels against the marble floors.

Yet, amidst the sea of wary onlookers, one figure stands apart.

Eris.

The heir to the Autumn court is leaning casually against the wall near the exit doors, his mother nowhere to be seen. The corner of his lips are upturned into a smirk, amber eyes alight with amusement and curiosity and perhaps, even something more.

Your steps threaten to falter as your eyes meets his. He looks back at you, holding your gaze with a searing intensity, it sends a shiver down your spine. He looks at you in a way no one ever has...as if he can see you for you who you really are.

Because you aren’t just a girl.

You’re the daughter of the Night Court. A shining star. A force to be reckoned with and one he finds himself irresistibly drawn to.

series masterlist

a/n: I honestly don't know how to feel about this one. I guess it's kind of a prequel to my upcoming one shot. Also, you can't tell me Eris wouldn't find anyone besting his dad like reader did in this hot lol

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

[parkerslatte]

Look Into The Future

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of death of a parent.

Summary: One night when Eris is sneaking out of the Forest House, a four year old Lucien catches him and begs Eris to take him with him. Eris complies only if Lucien keeps his mouth shut.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

“Where are you going?” A young voice asked from behind Eris. 

The heir sighed and turned to face his youngest brother. At four years old, Lucien had begun to become a curious young boy. Always hanging around Eris and imitating his eldest brother like his life depended on it. Despite how much Eris pretended to hate it, it did melt his cold heart. 

“Nowhere interesting,” the eldest Vanserra answered, trying to push his brother to return to his bedroom. 

“Why are you sneaking out?” Lucien asked. 

“Shhhh,” Eris hushed the younger boy, kneeling down to his height. “You mustn’t talk so loud, Lucien. There are others sleeping.”

In actual fact, Eris didn’t care for the others sleeping in the rooms nearby. He didn’t want the knowledge he was sneaking out to reach his father. 

“Where are you going?” Lucien asked again, his voice a loud whisper. At least it was an improvement. 

“Nowhere fit for a child,” Eris answered, standing back up. 

Lucien folded her arms across his chest, huffing in irritation. “I’m stronger than you.”

Eris snorted. “If that thought allows you to sleep at night, please be my guest and use it tonight.”

“Can I come with you?” Lucien whined. “I’ll be good.”

“No, Lucien,” Eris replied, kneeling down once more. “If father doesn’t find you in your bed in the morning, you know he will be in a bad mood.”

“Bring me back here then!” Lucien exclaimed and Eris knew it was useless trying to get him to quiet down. If his father did find out he had been sneaking out, he would make sure to keep his brother far away from Beron. Lucien still had a bright childish hope in his eyes that Eris wished for him to keep. 

Eris sighed. “If I bring you with me, you must promise to not mention a word about it to anyone.”

“I won’t,” Lucien said, exasperated.

“Lucien,” said Eris firmly.

As if sensing the seriousness in Eris’s tone, Lucien slowly nodded and held up his pinky finger. “I promise.”

The corner of Eris’s lips quirked up and he linked his pinky finger with Lucien’s. “Come on,” he said softly.  

A wide grin spread across Lucien’s face as he followed Eris through the double doors and out of the Forest House. The wind was loud as the two walked through the gardens. Due to Eris’s long strides, Lucien was quickly falling behind. Eris swiftly picked his younger brother up in his arms and continued to walk through the gardens. 

The lights in the Forest House were only a small twinkle in the distance by the time Eris finally came to a stop and set Lucien down on the ground. 

“Are we there yet?” Lucien asked, gripping onto Eris’s jacket. 

“Not yet,” Eris said. “Have you ever winnowed Lucien?” The young boy shook his head. “Okay, you will most likely feel a bit sick after but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Lucien looked nervous but nodded firmly, a small act of bravery. Eris softly smiled at his younger brother and held out his hand. While gripping onto it tightly, Lucien tucked his body closer to Eris. 

One moment the brothers were standing on a cobblestone path and the next they were standing in the centre of a small vegetable garden. Lucien slowly stepped away from Eris to look at the small cabin in front of him. The sweet aroma surrounding the two in the air caused the youngest Vanserra to smile. 

“Where are we?” Lucien asked, looking up to Eris wide-eyed. 

“You’ll see,” Eris said and guided Lucien to the front door of the cabin and quietly knocked twice then paused and knocked another three times.

The sage green door flew open and a female with a flour dusted apron and wild curls cascading around her stood in the threshold. Eris’s face lit up. 

“Y/N,” he said softly and stepped forward to embrace her. 

Once she was in the safety of his arms, Eris allowed his body to relax, all tension evaporating in a single second. The familiar and comforting scent of her surrounded him and he breathed in deeply, almost feeling lightheaded. 

“I missed you,” she muttered into the cross of his neck.

“As did I, my love,” Eris whispered, leaning back to press his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. 

“Who are you?” The voice of Lucien interrupted the two lovers. 

Y/N pulled away and glanced down at the small boy. “I’m Y/N.” Eris watched as she knelt down to Lucien’s level. “And you must be Lucien. Eris has told me a lot about you.”

“He has?” Lucien asked, a childlike joy filling his eyes. 

Y/N nodded, a beautiful smile stretching across her face. “Yes. He mentioned that you were his favourite brother.”

Lucien giggled and looked at Eris. “I knew it!”

All Eris could do was roll his eyes and fight the smile threatening to take over his face. It was true that Lucien was his favourite amongst all of his brothers. He had always held a firm sense of protectiveness over his youngest brother. Perhaps it was down to the joy that still filled Lucien’s eyes. Perhaps it was down to the true nature of his parentage. 

“Lucien, I think Y/N has made some cookies. Why don’t you go and pinch one?” Eris suggested.

“Can I?” He asked, staring at Y/N who had begun to rise to her feet 

Y/N stepped aside. “Of course. Go on in.”

Racing past the two lovers, Lucien entered the cabin and was far enough away to not overhear any conversation. 

“I’m sorry to turn up with him,” Eris apologised. “He caught me sneaking out and insisted I bring him to wherever I was going.”

Warm hands cupped Eris’s cheeks as Y/N stepped towards him. Eris’s hands easily fell into their place on her hips, pulling her closer. It had been too long since he had been able to hold her this way. 

“It is okay, Eris,” Y/N said. “You know that I’ve always wanted to meet your favourite brother.”

Eris groaned. “I cannot believe you told him that. Now that is all he is going to talk about.”

“Well you shouldn’t have made it so obvious, my dear,” Y/N said, quickly pecking his cheek before stepping out of Eris’s embrace. “Now close the door. You’re letting in a draft.”

Eris followed Y/N through the cabin and to where Lucien had situated himself on the settee, three cookies in his lap. Y/N settled down next to him. Eris watched on, simply observing the pair. 

“How do you know my brother?” Lucien asked after taking a bite of the cookie, causing crumbs to fall from his lips. Eris couldn’t help but cringe. 

“Well, do you know what mates are?” Y/N asked. 

Lucien nodded. “Eris told me that mates are people who love love each other.”

Y/N nodded with a soft smile that always made Eris weak at the knees. “Yes, and to put our relationship bluntly, your brother and I are mates.”

Lucien turned his nose up. “Eww, my brother is in love.”

A melodic laugh escaped Y/N. “It isn’t so disgusting. Just wait until you grow up.”

Lucien still continued to scowl. “No. I don’t think so.”

Eris rolled his eyes and walked over to the settee and sat down next to Y/N, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. 

“Why did Eris sneak out to see you?” Lucien asked. “Why don’t you come to our home?” 

Despite the smile resting upon her lips, Eris could see it falter for a second. The Forest House was Y/N’s previous place of work. She admitted once to Eris that she enjoyed it, after all she spent her time baking within the kitchen using equipment she could never afford on her salary. But once her own mother had passed away in the very same kitchen, it had tainted the place for her. Of course, after courting her in secret, Eris helped her leave despite hs fathers protests about her resigning. He had kept her safe within the cabin ever since. 

“I don’t believe I would fit in in a grand house,” Y/N admitted. “It seems far to big for me to navigate.”

“I can show you around!” Lucien exclaimed excitedly. 

“Perhaps one day,” Y/N replied. 

“But–”

“Lucien,” Eris said firmly, cutting off the conversation.

Lucien huffed. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise, sweetie,” Y/N reassured the young boy. “If I ever come to visit, you can show me around. In the meantime, you can come here whenever you like.”

Light filled Lucien’s eyes. “Really?”

Y/N smiled. “Really.”

“Thank you!” Lucien said, hugging Y/N tightly. 

Although he didn’t say anything or voice any feeling aloud, Eris felt Y/N’s gaze fall upon him as Lucien hugged her. Her smile was bright as she hugged the younger boy and Eris couldn’t help but fall more in love with her at that very moment. He didn’t think it was possible to love her more, yet he was proved wrong. 

It wasn’t long before Lucien was asleep, his head resting in Y/N’s lap while his body rested in Eris’s. The arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder’s tugged her closer so Ers could press his lips against her temple. 

“I’m sorry about tonight again,” Eris said. “I know we planned for something different.”

“Eris, it is honestly fine,” Y/N said, resting her head against Eris’s shoulder. “Your brother has honestly made my evening a little better.”

Eris scoffed playfully. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

Y/N giggled. “You know you’re not. But it is nice to be surrounded by the sound of a child’s laughter. It is nice to hear someone still holding onto hope and joy in this court.”

With a glance down at his brother, Eris sighed. “Other than you, I am sure he is the only reason I have to smile these days. Father has been pushing me to take on more responsibilities within the court, most of them are far from ideal.”

“It will get better,” Y/N said, her face tilting towards his neck. “Because I want there to finally be a day where I can safely accept our bond.”

“There will be,” Eris said firmly. “I will make sure of it.”

“Good,” Y/N said, her voice becoming sleepy. “Because I want everyone to know that you are mine and I want everyone to know that I am yours.”

His lips connected with Y/N’s forehead and he allowed them to linger. Gradually Y/N’s body further relaxed into his and from her shallower breathing Eris could tell that she was asleep. 

Despite the change of events of the evening, Eris couldn’t help but smile. Seeing Y/N with Lucien and the way she cared for him made his heart swell. The heir couldn’t help but think of what it would be like to care for his own child one day, with Y/N right by his side. Y/N’s fingers were tangled within Lucien’s hair as the two slept soundly; Eris smiled. 

As Eris rested his head atop of Y/N’s, he drifted into the most comfortable sleep he had had in a long time, dreaming of Y/N and the family they would hopefully have one day. 

[utterlyotterlyx]

ooo i have an idea

just something fluffy where reader loves hugging azriel because he always wraps his wings around her? maybe a little comfort fic after reader and az go on a rough mission together

Your wish is my command x

You Are My Shelter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - No one can comfort you like Azriel can, and after a mission goes wrong, you need him wrapped around you more than ever before.

Warnings - blood, injury, angst, lots of fluff and comfort, happy-ish ending

It wasn't a rare occurrence for you to accompany Azriel on the odd mission. He would never admit it, but you, his mate, was definitely his favourite partner.

You were quick and nimble, observant, and you held yourself with a feline prowess that had him awestruck each time he saw you prowling through a woodland or the bridge of rooftops clad in your matte black second skin and hugged and kissed ever single curve of your body.

Azriel may have been the Spymaster of the Night Court, the King of Shadow, but you were death incarnate, his Queen.

Though, he and your shared family saw a side to you that no enemy would ever be able to catch a glimpse of. Deep down, beneath that harsh exterior, you were the softest thing any of them had ever encountered, and as Azriel lingered back, watching you stalk along the rooftops of Windhaven, did he know that as soon as you reached the cabin that you called home, would you beg him to hold you, to wrap you up in his arms and furl his wings around your form.

It was your favourite thing in the world, your greatest comfort. Despite knowing of his largest than most wingspan and the certain benefits of it, there was nothing you loved more than to have his wings curl around you and block out all of the negativity of the world. As long as you were with Azriel, nothing bad could ever happen to you.

The situation hadn't been so different that night you had met him and your entire life had changed.

Azriel had been your target once upon a time, the one you had been sent to trail, to learn more about, and the moment you laid eyes on him, the tug you had felt in your soul for your entire life had become unbearable. The feeling didn't stop you from doing what you needed to, sauntering after him down the dark alleys where he stalked, sticking to the shadows of his shadows and going by unnoticed.

It was easy to tell how surprised he was by you the moment he had found himself pinned beneath your body, unable to move as could only watch as his shadows danced to the rich tone of your voice.

The infamous Shadowsinger had heard of you, the assassin whose reputation superseded his own, born in Autumn and the personal spy of Beron himself. Azriel should have been disgusted by you, but as your eyes connected and he saw that gentle fire spark within them, he knew that you had no other choice, no other option but to do what you did best. Kill. Azriel could sympathise with the notion.

Beron's assassin was his mate, and there was no way that he was ever going to let you fall back into the clutches of Autumn, he knew what Beron would do if he knew of the bond between you.

Fond eyes followed you, you could feel Azriel peering upward past the treeline as you hopped from beam to beam, not wavering for a single moment, even when he appeared behind you on that thatched rooftop.

"Don't throw me off of my game, Az," your voice was low and tinted with warning as it sang to him, and he had to reign his shadows in from dancing toward your melodic tone. They had a job to do too.

There was no way that you were going to refuse to stay cooped up in your cabin in Velaris whilst Azriel hunted the males who had took it upon themselves to continue to barbaric act of wing clipping.

Rain pattered against the wooden beams and thatched roofs, the gentle sound of it covering the sound of your cat-like movements as you searched every home, every clearing for a sign of those males, excited to tear them apart for even thinking that they could harm a female and get away with it.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," he purred softly to you, his blue siphons dimly glowing in the night, the rain plastering his hair to the sides of his face.

Azriel ran his callused fingers through his locks and looked to you, "You're extra cold today, my love," he motioned to you, namely to the mask you had put on that evening, a mask that even he found intimidating, so gods help anyone else that crossed you that night.

Damn him.

Twin blades idly twirled in your gloved fingers, you had unsheathed them from your thigh holsters the moment you had landed on the thatched shelter, just in case any Illyrian male was stupid enough to attempt to meet you there. Countless moments had gone by when Azriel had watched you take down men three times your height and build, you were as quick as the speed of light, your agility was something that even he couldn't stand against, and he loved you for it.

He had finally met his match and found his equal in one fell swoop.

The tight coronet that Nesta had styled for you glistened in the moonlight, two thin slices fell over your face and they whipped against the breeze as you turned to face him, "I'm just feeling extra broody today is all."

Azriel cocked his head to the side and smirked, too entranced by you to notice his shadows slithering up his legs and coiling around his thighs, "You're due on your cycle soon."

Your eyes narrowed and you took a single step toward him, the beam creaking under your weight but you didn't falter, you didn't wobble, your balance was pristine, "That has nothing to do with it."

Silly moments like that were what made you happy, how, even in the midst of a mission, he could still find ways to tease you and make you smile. Azriel opened his arms to you, his wings unfurling from the tucked back place behind his back, inviting you in, "Do you need a cuddle?"

You could never say no to that.

The resolve within you fractured and fell, and you wasted no time in sheathing your blades, shrugging innocently, you told him, "It would be rude to deny you the comfort."

"It really would."

Azriel was too focused on you, on your bright eyes and curled lips to notice his shadows darting about in warning, and he didn't realise until it was too late.

A metallic tang tinted the air, and you inhaled sharply, stumbling backward a couple of steps before your foot slipped and you were sent tumbling off the beam. Azriel dove off after you, he didn't waste a second, he saw the pain twist in your features, but he wasn't quick enough, and you landed on the ground with a sickening thud, a soft cry flew from your lips.

Arms were around you instantly, his fingers were flittering around the arrow that was burrowed into your shoulder and the nausea hit you like a horse as all of the fire within you vanished from your body. Footsteps thundered from all around you, but you couldn't pinpoint the exact direction of their origin as your world span.

Muffled words enveloped the world where you lay, "Get out of here, Az. They're coming."

Azriel knew it, he could hear their shouting and stalking footsteps, and he cursed himself and his siphons for meddling with you whilst you were so high up, so vulnerable to their arrows. Azriel had stolen your focus.

Faebane held a putrid scent, it had always made his nose burn and crinkle, he clasped your face in his hands, noting your weary eyes that were getting heavier by the second. The arrow was protruding from your shoulder and he could smell your blood mixed with the poison, there was a lot of it, you were loosing too much too fast.

"I'm not leaving you here," he hoisted you up in his arms, cooing soft apologies as you groaned in his embrace with every turn his shadows barked at him to take, half of them scouting ahead whilst the other half wrapped themselves around your wound, applying pressure and doing their best to keep you comfortable, "Eyes on me, Angel."

The sound of his desperate plea gave you enough strength to keep your eyes open, you fought the darkness as hard as you could until you felt the hope that you'd gotten far away enough for Azriel to stretch his wings and soar into the skies.

It was usually a thing you loved, flying with Azriel, he made any excuse he could to take you flying, just so that he could hold you close to him. Not like he needed any reason at all to touch you, but he would always find one.

You had never felt so weak, or so stupid, or so helpless in that moment. Azriel held you close, pleading at you to keep you pretty eyes open, to stay awake, and you tried, you really did, but it was too hard.

Only when Azriel landed in Velaris did your consciousness jolt, purely due to the sound of his roaring voice shouting for Rhys who had appeared moments later with Madja in tow, commanding Azriel to place you onto the bare table thanks to Nesta's quick sweep that sent an array of plates and glasses crashing to the floor.

Sickly paleness clung to your skin, sweat coated your brow and you were shivering so violently that your teeth were rattling in your mouth, and your gaze shifted to Madja whilst Azriel told Rhys, Nesta, and a newly appeared Cassian what had happened with a strained voice.

"Is she going to be alright, Madja?" Rhys' voice echoed, he felt so far away, but from the stoic hand he had rested on your forehead, you knew he was much closer than you thought.

Madja was silent for a moment, her lips were tight as she pulled the arrow from your torn flesh, sympathy flashing in her eyes at the powerful cry that she had pulled from your lips, "She's lost a lot of blood," that much was clear from the red coating the tabletop, "But she'll be fine," Azriel was by your side, releasing a breath he didn't realise he was holding, pressing his lips to your hairline and stroking the matted hair away from your face.

Gauze become embedded into the wound, coated in a healing tonic that made you hiss and trash in Azriel's grip when it touched the gaping hole in your shoulder, and Madja worked as softly as she could as she wrapped thick white bandages around it. Madja left with strict instructions.

Rest. Fluids. Comfort.

Rhys hadn't even finished thanking her before he saw Azriel cradle you in his arms from the corner of his eye and whisk you to the room you two had shared before you had moved to your little cabin in the woods.

He had never been as gentle with anyone like he had been with you, you placed you onto the bed like a feather, pressing a cold cloth to your forehead to cool you down and rid your brow of sweat before he peeled his own clothes from his body and fell into the comfort beside you.

Weakly, you reached for him with trembling fingers, wincing as he pulled you into the position he knew that you needed. Head on his chest so that you could listen to his heartbeat which was racing in that moment, with your fingers tracing serene circles into the muscles of his pecs as his own hands wound around you, his wings drooping over your frame and binding you in their warmth and protection.

"I'm so sorry," he voice was wounded, strained with guilt, his fingers found the back of your neck and he worked slowly to unpin the coronet Nesta had styled for you, dropping the pins to the floor and unwinding the braids as you sighed softly at the tightness diminishing.

A hoarse hum rumbled at your lips, "It's okay, Az," you shivered again and he pulled you in tighter, being careful not to cause you any pain, and his wings curled tighter around your frame, waves of warmth seeped into you and your relaxed, "I'm here, I'm okay," your voice was a hush above a whisper, laced with exhaustion.

"I love you so much," his shadows grazed over your skin, and for a moment you believed that Azriel's hands were roaming over you, but they weren't, it was his shadows waving across every inch of you that they could, soothing you, cooing to you, "Go to sleep, Angel. I'll be here when you wake up, and we can spend all day like this tomorrow. How does that sound?"

The smile that graced your lips was peaceful, your lips parted to answer and Azriel waited, but when soft snores filled the room, all he could do was rake his fingers through your hair and swear to himself that he would never dare to put you in such danger ever again.

Author's Note

Just a little post-work drabble for you all x

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 5

I Want Crazy

Azriel Eris x Reader

After a promotion to an emissary position by a meddling Tarquin, Y/N and Eris get much, much closer.

A/n: There will likely only be a couple more chapters of this fic. For those of you concerned by the previous chapter, please continue to trust the process. Our girl is intelligent.

Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: Language, brief mention of fertility struggles

Our first date, the seasons changed. It got washed away in a summer rain

He wasn’t what I expected, Eris Vanserra. Not that I ever fathomed what to expect or even considered it. In fact there was only a very short list of things I knew prior to the day we met:

-He was a High Lord.

-He’d been a secretive ally of the Night Court prior to his father’s demise.

-Azriel fucking hated him.

And after that day I knew everything I needed to:

-He was warm beyond the fire in his veins

-He was a just ruler

-He had a dry wit that sat well with my soul.

-I wanted to see him again.

After dancing that night, we ran back to Tarquin’s palace in the rain. It was the first time I’d been unable to contain my joy in far too long. I laughed, and skipped, and spun in circles the whole way back. Eris grumbled the entire way but I could see the amusement lit in his eyes. The next morning he met me for breakfast and found me again before he left for the Autumn Court.

He began finding reasons to visit the Summer Court more frequently and sought me out every time. It was no time before Eris became a close friend.

Tarquin - ever the cheeky, wonderful bastard - only gave me knowing smiles when he’d catch us walking the palace grounds. According to Cresseida, The High Lord of the Summer Court was quite the romantic and had a knack for playing matchmaker. I was inclined to agree considering that after a month of spotting Eris and I around the grounds, Tarquin made a proposition to me. I could still teach my classes but he needed a temporary emissary to the Autumn court as they negotiated border, trade, and tariff agreements. Given my recent closeness with the High Lord of Autumn and overall wonderful (debatable) disposition, he found me to be the perfect candidate. With that, I found myself on official court business in the Autumn Court.

Who cares if you’re all I think about?

I was nervous on the first visit to Autumn. I knew things were different under Eris’ reign but the stories of Beron’s cruelty within his own keep were enough to warrant a bit of caution.

My worries were quickly cast aside when Eris personally escorted me from the border and to his keep. The Autumn Court was stunning. The leaves on the trees were brighter than I’d ever seen. The hues ranging from gold to red absolutely stunning. I’d love to have Feyre one day paint it for me.

Smells of roasting chestnuts, hickory smoke, crisp leaves, apple cider, and autumn air filled my nose. On the way, Eris stopped by a small farm where the owner allowed us to pick what Eris called the finest Honeycrisp apples in all of Prythian. I’d never had that variety before and though I had nothing to compare them against, the apples had the perfect crunch and just the right ratio of tart and sweet. He paid the farmer handsomely for a bucket of them and several pie pumpkins for his kitchens.

The Autumn Keep was far from the drab stone castle that I’d pictured. Eris clearly went to great strides to ensure the ghost of Beron Vanserra had no hold here. The grand rooms were filled with maple accents, rugs and tapestries with hues greens, golds, oranges and reds. Fires roared in massive fireplaces and autumnal spices filled the air.

And despite the beauty of the keep. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of the tall, handsome redhead walking alongside me.

Once I was settled for the stay, we did meet to discuss political matters which took countless hours, but I was rather impressed with the ease of our negotiations. He and Tarquin had similar visions for the economic future within their courts.

We enjoyed dinner together, indulged in autumnal wines, including a hot mulled wine that flushed my cheeks. Or so I told Eris that was the reason for the blush on my features, and certainly not the way way he’d refer to me as “my lady” or “little fox.”

We’d stayed up late, sitting by a bon fire outside beneath the Autumn Skies. There was music and dancing, spiked ciders, and caramel apples. I could see why Eris loves his court.

We, of course, kept respectful distance from eachother as not to spark any gossip of anything more than friendship between he and I. Yet somehow, hours later, we found ourselves in a private courtyard - a small fire burning as we lay back on a blanket together. I began to shiver as the evening chill grew cooler. As I went to bid Eris goodnight and head for the warmth within Castle Walls, he halted me.

“Come here” he spoke. His voice low.

I scooted a bit closer.

“Come closer, little fox. I won’t bite.”

He refrained from adding “unless you ask me to” but that was readable enough in his heavy lidded gaze.

So I laid beside him, my head nestled between his chest and shoulder as his heat warmed my body. I showed him various constellations that I’d learned of during my time in the Night Court and he did a terrible job of visualizing them. He tried though. He told me how he used to wish on shooting stars, how he still found himself occasionally wishing upon them. I teared up when he told me of the wishes he’d made back then for his mother and Lucien, for himself, to one day escape Beron’s cruelty. For a better life. A better Court.

When we saw a shooting star later, he made a wish and told me it was bad luck to tell someone else the wish.

And I, despite everything that had turned upside down in life, found myself struggling to ask for anything more than what I had in that moment.

When we finally said goodnight I realized his own suite was right next to the one he had set me up in.

I woke in a sweat sometime hours before dawn. Pain ripping through my chest. Azriel once again pulling on the fucking bond with no regard for the feelings of despair he was shoving to me. This time was worse than usual, the waves of grief continuing to grow stronger and stronger all the time. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve this. This was a bed of his own making and yet I still had to suffer beyond what I’d already been through. Sleeping through it was futile and the room’s darkness began to suffocate me.

I padded from my room to a common area outside of the suites, sat before the fireplace and worked on breathing through it.

Though I tried my best to remain quiet, Eris apparently had a sharp sense of hearing as he wandered into the room, seating himself on the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, perhaps I would have noticed the low slung gray sweatpants and broad muscled chest of the half-naked High Lord- no, friend - beside me.

He took my hand. “Hey, fox, look at me.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve got this. Breathe for me.” I took a shallow breath. “Can you breathe deeper for me, little one?” He placed a hand on my shoulder while the other remained on my hand. I took a deeper breath and let it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

Eris sat with me in silence on a plush couch once my breathing steadied. Still too worked up to fall back asleep, I nestled myself against Eris’ chest while his fingers ran through my hair in soothing, repetitive strokes.

It was hours later that I awoke, finding that I’d fallen asleep on him. I tried shifting away slowly but a sleeping Eris only held his arm around me tighter as I pulled. We slept like that a while longer.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully. We discussed further trade options and Eris spent the evenings working with me on how to close off the bond to Azriel’s feelings. While I was already excellent at shutting down sending my feelings down the bond, cutting off his feelings was what I needed help with. By the end of the stay I could only feel his emotions slightly.

I expressed my gratitude to Eris who only waived off my thanks. “Anyone would have done it.” Yet he was the only one who tried. What I didn’t tell Eris was that as Azriel’s end of the bond silenced and the depths of my soul went from overflowing to filled with contentment, my thoughts began drifting to happier things, drifted to him.

Front porch and one more kiss. It doesn't make sense to anybody else.

The fifth month after I left, my grandparents held an outdoor feast for our family and friends in celebration of a holiday of one of the lesser Summer gods they worshipped.

It was far from a religious event. There was always wine, dancing, and lively conversation at these celebrations with none of the boring sermons that typically came with such events.

I invited Eris, and to my delight he came. My drunken sister made plenty of comments over how pretty of a pair of “friends” we made, with overemphasis on the word. My sweet, protective nephew took to Eris right away, deciding that after what Azriel put me through, anyone was better than him. He had no tolerance for cheating or sympathy for adulterers from the time he was old enough to understand what it meant and that his father had cheated on my sister during her pregnancy (real stand up guy) though my sister was so far out of his league that he’d have to reach the stars to find someone better. Obviously she’d left him immediately and she and my nephew were better off for it.

My family tried their best and failed miserably to act normal with the High Lord of the Autumn Court in their presence. Fortunately, Eris paid no mind and had won everyone over by the end of the night.

Despite his aversion to the sand, Eris accepted my invitation to camp on the beach so we could enjoy my favorite part of the night, the fireworks shooting off over the bay.

As the finale approached, I pouted.

“I hate when they end.”

Gesturing toward himself, Eris replied. “It’s a good thing you have a High Lord at your disposal to light up the night any time you wish.”

Before I could reprimand him for the crude comment, he began shooting small orbs of fire toward the water in a rainbow of colors.

My eyes sparkled watching the vibrant flares. Soon enough the orbs into butterflies of fire flying through the air, some circling around me. One brushed my cheek and there was no pain, just a gentle flutter.

“That’s… Just wow, that’s incredible, Eris!”

He gave a shrug of nonchalance in return.

“I bet you do that for all the ladies, don’t you?”

Eris looked me in the eyes, something unreadable in them.

“Only the ones I want to kiss.”

A moment passed before I realized that he was entirely serious.

And that I WANTED to kiss him.

So I did.

We kissed under the stars. It was a hard, passionate kiss, our shared breaths riddled with desperation, a profession of the unspoken words between us, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

And when we eventually pulled apart, I looked into his eyes with a smile, genuine, full of adoration, and Eris gently grasped the back of my head, pulling me into another searing kiss.

We shared many more before dawn.

You can’t undo a fall like this.

When Eris returned to the Autumn Court, I tried feeling any remorse for what we’d done. I was technically still a mated female, though I’d left and due to Azriel’s infidelity nobody expected me to honor the bond.

The guilt never came.

Eris had to travel so I wasn’t able to see him for the next couple weeks but we wrote back and forth often through enchanted notes. Curiosity or concern must have gotten the best of him because eventually he asked:

“Do you regret it?”

I knew exactly what he referred to.

“I regret many things, Eris. None of which pertain to you.”

I sent the letter to him with confidence. I did not regret a single thing about the night our lips collided on the beach.

“Thank the Mother, because I need to kiss you again.”

Heat radiated through me at his admission.

But then reality struck. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court. I was the - separated, yes, but still - the mate of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Eris, I love spending time with you and will never regret it. You’ve helped me heal in ways I will never be able to repay you for. But this… how can this work? It’s messy.”

I sent the letter. My own heart crushing at the words. I didn’t want this to end but I couldn’t risk it going further just for reality to come crashing down on us.

Some time passed, the unease in my gut growing when his response appeared.

“If I wanted easy, I’d have married the daughter of some Autumn Lord. Nothing about my past has been easy and despite what some may believe, nothing worth having has come easily to me. Every second spent with you is worth it. Do not, Y/N, doubt that for one single moment. And perhaps this is crazy, but I would not want it any other way.”

It was that moment that I knew I wanted, I needed Eris as more than a friend.

“Then let’s be crazy, Eris Vanserra.”

I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

The thing about immortality is that six months can bring more change than six decades or even centuries.

Six months ago I would have never dreamed that my mate would take the life we’d built over the years and tear it into shreds with those once sacred, beautiful scarred hands that I held reverently. The hands that placed the lovely mating band crafted from one of his own siphons on my finger after he’d made his vows, the hands that lovingly caressed my bare thighs through restless nights until sleep took me, hands that held me pressed to his chest and wiped away the tears of grief after yet another failed fertility cycle.

Those hands that held another and damned it all, the hands that came home and stroked my hair as pretty lies fell from his mouth, the hands that took my glass heart and dropped it.

I especially wouldn’t have dreamed that six months later I would be laying in the bed of the High Lord of the Autumn Court with his strong, warm hands holding me like this heart of mine that he’d forged anew was the most delicate, precious possession in his keep.

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

We’d spent the night together making love. The kind of love making that shifts something intrinsic within a person, the type where no matter what happens, a piece of you is forever changed. It was more than just giving my body to him, it was a claiming of the soul.

We lay in bed all morning, his long fingers tracing along the arch of my bare back as he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder and neck. Between kisses, his low voice whispered quiet hopes and dreams for the future.

I was just about to speak those three words that I’d only ever spoken to one other male when a loud knock came on the chamber door.

“For fuck’s sake” Eris muttered before shouting “Come back later!”

“We apologize, High Lord but this is urgent.” a muffled male voice replied through the closed door.

Eris growled, shifting out of bed and throwing on his sweatpants not bothering with a shirt. I enjoyed the view.

“This better be worth my while, lads.” Eris hissed in a tone that conveyed “I’m very fucking inconvenienced right now but understand that you are doing your duty as my sentries.”

“Apologies again, High Lord, but we’ve….”

The male outside the door cleared his throat in attempt to communicate that the matter should be discussed privately.

“It’s fine.” Eris grumbled. “Just get on with it.”

“We, well, High Lord, we’ve apprehended the Shadowsinger. He was making an attempt to infiltrate the keep.”

———————————

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious

[inkedinshadows]

Happy Birthday

Day 24: Exhibitionism — Eris x f!reader

Warnings: smut, language, masturbation

Word count: 1.420

You knew from the scowl on Eris’s face as he stepped into your shared bedroom that, despite it being his birthday, your mate had a horrible day. And from the way the door slammed behind him, you could tell it had something to do with his father.

It was nearly impossible to reach him when he was like this. He wouldn't talk to you, wouldn't let you in to comfort him. He shut you out completely.

Luckily for him, you already had something planned for today—something other than the present you had given him in the morning—and you could very well use it to help him relax and take his mind off Beron.

Eris barely spared you a glance as he took off his shoes, but you didn't let it deter you. Instead, you quickly got up from where you lay sprawled on the bed and walked up to him to take his hand. He lifted a brow but followed silently as you guided him toward the vanity table, turning the chair so that it would face the bed.

“Sit,” you said gently. “I have another gift for you.”

He lingered for a second before he did as you asked. With a smile, you took a few steps back and untied your robe, letting the silky fabric fall off your shoulder and onto the floor.

Eris didn't seem particularly impressed. He even sighed. “It's been a long day, Y/N. I'm not in the mood for fucking.”

Using first names. You would have to work harder than you had initially thought, then. Good thing you never backed down from a challenge.

“We don't have to fuck,” you replied, keeping the same bright smile on your face. “You're just going to sit there and watch.”

His brows rose higher at your words, his interest picked. “Watch?”

“Yes. Watch.” You ran a hand down your chest, brushing the lingerie set you had chosen for tonight. “Watch me, my love.”

Eris sat a bit straighter. His back was still stiff, his jaw tense, and his arms crossed over his chest. But he looked intrigued, at least, and his amber eyes seemed to finally take in your nearly naked body.

“Is that new?” he asked, though he sounded more like he was talking to himself rather than you. “I've never seen it before.”

“Oh, this?”

You ran your fingers over the ruddy lacy bra, lingering at the dip between your breasts. You didn’t bother hiding your smirk as Eris tracked the movement.

“I bought it yesterday,” you finally explained. “I thought you might like it.”

Your mate hummed, and despite the tension still etched onto his face, despite the turmoil visible in his eyes, the corner of his lips twitched upward, if only by a fraction.

“I do like it,” he admitted.

Your smile only grew. “Hopefully you’ll like watching me take it off as well?”

Eris didn’t answer and instead leaned back in the chair, an ankle crossed over a knee, fingers drumming on the armrest. Waiting for you to start.

So you did.

Your fingertips traced the outline of your bra, slowly, teasingly, before sliding down your stomach to brush the hem of your panties. It was just a thin scrap of fabric that barely covered you, and you could feel heat blooming in your body as Eris’s intense gaze narrowed down to your core.

You reached behind your back to unclasp your bra and then you threw it to him with a mischievous smirk. Your mate watched it land on his lap, an amused gleam now in his eyes. Your plan was working.

You palmed your breasts, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you kneaded and rolled your nipples until they were peaked and hard. It would have been faster if Eris were the one touching you, but you reminded yourself that you were doing it for him, not for yourself. The desire in his eyes and the way his throat worked would be enough.

Catching the glance he cast at your core, you moved one hand downward while the other still fondled your breast. Your fingers hesitated on the hem of the panties before slipping under, slick arousal welcoming them.

Your eyes never left his face, but Eris didn't look up at you. His entire focus was on your fingers moving behind the fabric, hiding from his sight the way you brushed your folds and flicked your clit. His only clue for what you were doing was the quiet moan you let out.

The sound made him snap. His gaze met yours and his voice was a low growl when he spoke. “Take them off. Now.”

You tried to hide your smile at how easy it was to break through to him. Slowly, you leaned down to push your panties down your legs, and his brows raised as he looked at you expectantly. You knew exactly what he wanted.

You tossed your underwear toward him, and this time he caught it in his hand. Bringing it to his nose, he breathed in the wetness coating them, his eyes closing for a moment before they settled on you again.

“Continue.”

You took a few steps back towards the bed, sat down, and propped your feet up on the edge, your legs bent and spread to gift him the view of your glistening cunt.

Eris subtly shifted on the chair as if to get more comfortable. He settled in a more casual and relaxed position, leaning back and manspreading, almost like he was mimicking you. But you could see the bulge in his pants now, and you bit your lip at the sight.

Your fingers found their way between your thighs again, probing your entrance before slipping inside. You pumped them in and out, curling them to try and reach that sensitive spot that usually made your eyes roll back, but it wasn't enough. It felt good, but not even close to your mate’s fingers.

“It's not the same, is it?” he drawled. A sly smirk graced his lips as he watched you pleasure yourself. “It feels better when I'm the one doing it.”

You nodded, a soft whine coming out of you. You knew pleading with him to touch you would be pointless right now. He was enjoying the show you were putting on, but even more, the knowledge that he was the only one who could fully satisfy you.

So you imagined your hand was his. You imagined his long, slender fingers slipping inside you, his thumb pressing down on your clit. You pinched your nipple to try to recreate the feeling of his lips sucking on it.

“Are you picturing me, love?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

You nodded your head again, teeth sinking deeper in your bottom lip as you moaned. It might not feel the same, but knowing his eyes were on you—watching your every movement, drifting from your core to your pleasure-stricken face and then back again—brought you closer to the edge. You didn’t know how he could stand seeing you naked, fingering yourself in front of him, and not wanting to touch you. But Eris just sat there, an amused smirk on his face and a hard cock straining in his trousers. He made no move to even rub himself, mindlessly toying with your panties.

“Eris, I’m… I’m close,” you murmured, hoping it would be enough to have him take over.

It wasn’t.

His smile turned wicked. “Then keep going,” he replied, as if his answer was obvious. “I want to see you coming on your fingers knowing that mine feel better.”

You whined, but didn’t stop. You brought your other hand down on your clit to add more stimulation and you came with a groan when Eris looked at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, as if you were a meal he wanted to feast on. You clenched around your fingers, legs shaking slightly and eyes fluttering, but it was over quickly. Nothing like the powerful orgasms only your mate was able to give you.

Eris finally stood up and prowled toward you. Grabbing your wrist, he gently pulled your fingers out. You were breathing heavily, heart pounding in your chest as you watched him bring them up to his mouth and close his lips around them to taste your release. He hummed before pulling back and looking down at you with a smile.

“This was such a beautiful birthday present,” he murmured. “Thank you, my love.”

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[imaginesmai]

Feelings I cannot express - Eris Vanserra

Wow, look at that! Me, avoiding responsabilities and writing another Eris fic for which I have no time! What a surprise! Enjoy this LONG LONG PIECE that has consumed my time lately. Shout-out to @glitterypirateduck who is too in her Eris' era.

Plot: Five times Eris didn’t know how to express his feelings, and one time he did

Warnings: descriptions of violence and blood. Mean Eris when he doesn't know how to express his feelings. Troubled, traumatized boi.

1

His steps were wobbly, and he had already stopped three times to catch his breath. Each time, the ground seemed closer, more tempting. Eris always cared about the impression people had of him, and in his court, he polished it like nowhere.

The strong, cruel prince that matched his father’s temper. Someone who they wouldn’t mess with, someone who would reign one day when Beron was gone. Only the silent corridors were the witness of that other part of him, the real one, that was leaving bloodied prints on the walls.

Beron had raised his hand against his mother, like many other times. He had crossed her beautiful and soft face with a hard slap, just because she dared to share her opinion on a political matter. And Eris had unconsciously let his power flare. Just an ember, a spark in his middle finger.

His father had seen, and had deemed right to remind him where was his position in his court. Lashes had ripped his back into shreds, blood trailing down his arms and legs. He had finished two hours before dawn, but Eris hadn’t been able to move until the night was already started. That way, he made sure no one saw his vulnerable form.

Eris closed the doors of his room as soon as he was inside, and stumbled into his bed. Falling face first, he closed his eyes and willed his conscious to leave him. No one heard his prayers, and he was still wide awake when his door opened again.

He would have been startled, alert or even afraid, but your scent sneaked in before you entered. Eris groaned in acknowledgement, and he knew any warnings or threats were useless against you. You already knew the dangers of your actions, the consequences of being involved with him. And yet, you were always there.

“Can you take off your clothes?” you broke the sinister silence of the room with quiet steps. “I’ll run you a bath”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Asleep” you answered, brushing your soft knuckles against his locks. “Don’t worry about it”

Flynn, the younger Vanserra brother, had tight sleep schedules, so part of his worry faded away. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone found his younger brother’s betrothed in a light sleeping gown.

Eris heard you filling the bath with water, and tried not to let the guilt worry. The first time you had helped him, he had threatened to burn you alive, and gone as far as give you a nasty burn scar on your left forearm. You hadn’t left, and he hadn’t thanked you. While you two ignored each other in the court ministrations, it was your secret routine – you, a stranger promised to a monster, helping him among his dearest family and friends.

Not once in his life he had let someone so close to his torment, to his vulnerability – to his body. People assumed he had tons of lovers, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone touching him. With you, he had discovered in the last years, it was different.

Your hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality, and he finally looked at you. There were dark bags under your eyes, a determinated look fixed on him.

“It’s ready” you tilted your head slightly. “Can you get up on your own?”

“Of course. Get away” he scoffed, but didn’t argue when you stabilized him by his elbow when he rose. “I don’t need your help. You’re more a liability than a support”

“I know you can do it, Eris” you didn’t even blink at his mean words, nor reacted when he tried to push you away. “Maybe we should take your tunic off before – “

“Get off me!”

Eris didn’t measure his strength when he pushed you off, just desperate to shake the feeling of kind hands that he didn’t deserve. That would never be his.

You stumbled back and got your feet tangled between the carpet, which caused you to fall on your butt. He physically flinched when your hands broke your fall, when he saw you suck a breath in pain. But he wouldn’t apologize, he never did. If being the worst person alive meant you would live, if hurting you meant no one would do it, then he could carry the guilt and self-hate just fine.

From the ground, he felt your eyes on him as he striped his clothes. They fell to the ground, his tunic nothing but ripped shreds of cloth. His vest wasn’t much better, or his shirt. Only his pants had been saved from the bloodbath. Eris made a point by not looking at you while he undressed, leaving his briefs on.

He didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that the way your body tensed from the corner of his eye wasn’t an exaggeration. Every fiber of his body screamed at him when he walked towards the bathroom, when he heard you get up in a rush and follow him.

The fact that you didn’t demand an apology or got angry at him rubbed all the wrong spots.

“Let me warm the water”

“I can do it myself, little fox”

Still, your hand sneaked and you dipped it into the water, and within seconds steam started to fill the bathroom. Eris stared at that particular spot between your shoulder and neck, where he wished he could thank you with a soft kiss. Wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into the bath with him. Be the person you would lay with that night.

“Do you want me to help you in?”

“What I want you to do is to leave” he answered as the temperature of the room rose. “I want you to lay with your future husband and forget about me”

“I can’t do that, Eris” you casted him a glance. “I can help you in though”

His anger rose back up and he didn’t say anything when you straightened back up. Your fire magic was only a spark of his own, only useful for warming water or lighting a chimney. That you had to use yours because he was too spent was a disgrace upon himself.

Eris made a point to leave his back to you inside the tub, letting the warm water wash the blood away. He pushed his head between his arms and ignored your presence. Ignored your warm hands as they brushed the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. Ignored your quiet movements as you left healing and numbing creams on the counter. Tried to ignore you when you massaged his shoulders and scalp, cleaning his hair like his mother used to do.

Eventually, you decided to leave him alone in his rooms. After helping him get up from the bathtub and into the bed. Tucking him in like a stubborn child, turning off the candles. Only when your hand brushed his hair one last time, he noticed the new addition to your beautiful wrist.

He gripped it before you could hide it, and for the first time in the whole night, you flinched. Not because his touch was rough, since he held it like expensive glass. Not because you were afraid, because with him, you never were.

“This is new” he whispered in the dark room, staring at the bruises along your delicate skin. “What happened?”

“He just got a little handsy. Flynn…” you doubted before you sighed, sitting on his bed. “Your father has been pushing him more and more about the weeding. He left this morning with him to hunt in the forest, so I can only guess they talked about it. So he got drunk. And I was late for dinner, because he hadn’t informed me it would be early tonight”

“Anywhere else?” he asked, and eyed you with enough intensity to warn you against lying.

“I’m fine”

You had been raised for that, Eris guessed, and that was normal for you. Being sold to the best buyer for your hand, endure a shitty betrothed until you were to marry and he could ignore you properly. Eris didn’t dare to think about how things would be if your position allowed him to marry you. If his father saw you worthy of his first-born.

But you were stuck with Flynn Vanserra, a man uncapable of love and caring. A man who did worse things than a bruised wrist.

“Be careful” he allowed himself to say, just because it was dark, and you couldn’t see the real concern and fear of someone finding out about your behavior in his room. “Don’t let anyone see you leave my rooms. And don’t come back. I don’t need you”

“Good night, Eris” you rose from bed, and Eris missed the warmth of your wrist against his fingers. “Don’t forget the creams”

With silent steps, you left his room, and Eris spent the night awake wondering of you could see right past his lies, past his fake cruelty and indifference towards you. If you could see how much he cared about his brother’s betrothed.

2

It wasn’t too often that the palace opened its door for lesser fae. On special occasions, his father allowed them to attend to the main hall and see what they were missing because of their condition. Beron took out the elegant clothes, the expensive wine and bright plates. And then, he didn’t let them use any of that and had them watch from the corner the superiority of his family.

Eris didn’t particularly care about those events, but he had been forced to attend to that one – since it was his own birthday. He didn’t celebrate his birthday, he didn’t get presents. Not when years of monotony rolled by and nothing changed. His mother had been the only one wishing him happy birthday that morning, kissing the side of his head quickly and reminding him to be nice.

To stand by and endure his father’s show of power at his expense. All his brothers were there too, and not too far from Flynn, you too.

You were wearing an orange dress that emulated autumns leaves. Each time you moved, lights reflected yellow and brown sparks that had the lesser fae turning their heads around. Eris too couldn’t keep his eyes away from your form for too long, with the risk of being caught.

Flynn seemed to be least affected by your looks, or your presence. While you were required to stay by his side and be faithful, he dragged you through countless humiliation. Talking and flirting with other women when you were standing a few feet away, ignoring your attempts to start conversations, leaving you while you greeted a friend.

Eri’s nails were imprinted on his palms from how hard he closed his fists each time it happened. He had almost set fire to a curtain when he had been close enough to watch your crestfallen expression.

To avoid anyone noticing him staring at you like a hawk or turning his brother into ashes, he busied himself with pointless talks and stupid politics. He endured it for three long hours, and then he granted himself a rest excusing himself for the bathroom.

He knew you had been following him since he left the ballroom, but didn’t acknowledge you until you were far from the crowd. Eris walked through the hallways and across the backyard, and stopped only when he reached the stables. Then, he turned around and his heart skipped a beat at your sight.

Your beautiful hair had been let down, and you were wearing a crown of golden leaves. Everything in your attire claimed you were their possession, but you weren’t his to look at, to enjoy. So he raised a brow and waited for you to talk.

“You’re hard to catch” you started. “Someone might think you’re running away from me”

“Maybe I’m running away from your annoying presence”

You scoffed and he hated and loved that you didn’t seem affected by his words. There was no truth behind it, just the urge of hearing your voice in your reply.

“I want to wish you happy birthday” you confessed, and even your voice was sweeter that night. “Haven’t seen you in all day”

“I’ve been busy” he lied.

Shamefully, he had waited for your visit for hours. Last year you had been the first one to wish him happy birthday, and he had remembered for the whole year the feeling of your lips against his cheek. It had been a friendly kiss, although it had been the only time he had seen you blush. And during the hard days, he held onto that memory like a lifesaver.

You hummed and tucked your hands in front of you. Eris tried not to notice the silver ring that claimed you as his brother’s possession, the distinction from other women. You never wore it, but you had to in events like that one.

In the silence that followed his lie, Eris’ whole body relaxed. His shoulders dropped, his fist untightened and his jaw unclenched. His nostrils flared slightly as he took in your scent, and finally, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Happy birthday, Eris” you finally said, and smiled brightly at him. “Do you want to open your present?”

“Present?” he blinked surprised, the question catching him off guard. “You got me a present?”

“Birthdays are supposed to be filled with presents. Extravagant parties are good too, but I think everyone should get a present” you explained. “I tried to keep yours in an envelope, but someone found it before you. And I couldn’t help it. Do you want to see it?”

Eris nodded dumbly. You could offer him a crumb of your lunch and he would gladly treasure it for the rest of his life. Just like he was doing with all your moments together, before you were cruelly snagged into his brother’s arms eventually.

He followed you through the stables, wondering what you could give him. He didn’t remember the last time someone got him a present, a pleasant one. Anything you could give him would be perfect, so he wasn’t worried about liking it or not. He was worried about cracking down and smudging that beautiful lipstick with his own lips.

Like second nature, you walked him towards the pit where he kept his hounds locked. They slept together and were Eris pride and joy, the first and only gift he got from his father. As you unlocked the door, Eris stuffed his hands in his pocket awkwardly. Then, he looked inside.

And broke into a loud, deep chuckle that rattled his bones.

Eris laughed and laughed until he took his hands out of his pockets and had to press them into his stomach, bending over. When he opened his eyes and tried to regain his posture, he lost it over and over again.

“I take it you like it” you chuckled with him.

He missed the way your eyes shone at his laugh, the way you bounced off your feet at his happiness. It had been the only real smile on your lips that night, and it rivaled any of the elegant lamps in the ballroom.

His hounds, the terrifying big dogs that haunted prisoners when they got out of his dungeons and tracked down traitors, had each one fox knitted hats. Who had ripped fae apart with their sharp teeth and devoured limbs like butter. They all stared at you with oblivious calm and a fox hat.

“They look – they look so ridiculous” Eris managed to say between laughs, and pointed at Maximus, who had its head titled and one of the ears had bent down. “And so happy! How did you put them on? This is the best present I could ask for”

“Oh, they didn’t put much of a fight when I sneaked some treats” you shrugged, and Eris broke into another laugh. “Besides, they like me too much not to let me do it”

“You’re a devious creature, little fox” he scoffed, and finally looked at you. “You are – “

Whatever he was about to say died when he caught the glimpse of the moon light hitting your ring. The ring that reminded him that you may have given him a birthday present, but everything else belonged to Flynn. He caught the words he was about to say and stuffed them down his chest. He forced himself to look away from your expectant expression, and swallow the guilt.

You would never be happy with him, but neither would you be with Flynn. Your fate in that court was sealed, yet you would keep your life with the youngest Vanserra.

“Thank you for the present, Y/N” he managed to say, not daring to look back at his hounds.

“You’re welcome, Eris” you copied his formal, clipped tone in a mocking way, noticing the change of the atmosphere but not caring about it. “Maybe next time I could knit you one for yourself”

“I’m afraid I look nothing like a fox. More like a snake perhaps”

“And I’m afraid you’re too hard on yourself, but we aren’t considering our deliriums”

Eris opened his mouth to argue, but he felt them coming before you did. A couple, probably drunk and lesser fae, had snuck into the gardens. And they probably wouldn’t recognize you, wouldn’t report to his father about your reunion. But Eris couldn’t risk your safety, not when you were the only thing that made him be glad of being alive for another year.

He caught your arm in a tight grip and your eyes widened before listening to their steps. You didn’t have to look to know the couple was staring. In your eyes, Eris could see his own fear of having those short and meaningless meetings cut short because of a snitch. He hated that you weren’t afraid of his tight grip or the fire in his eyes, but because of the retaliations if you were discovered.

One of his hounds poked a lazy head to see what the silence was about, but saw no threat and turned away. And to ensure it wouldn’t turn into a threat, Eris put on his heir-mask, the hatred and cruel prince everyone expected him to be, and snarled with fire under his tongue the venom he knew you didn’t believe.

“And if I ever see you snooping again, I’ll have your head on a pike in your weeding chambers. Tell my dear brother to shorten the leash of his belongings” he pressed on. He caught on the couple’s sniff of fear and respect, but also your own hurt. Hurt at the words he was blading for your protection, he told himself, that were necessary. “Leave before I change my mind”

With a final hard push, he threw you a few feet away from him. You looked down and scrambled away from him, and the couple left too. Eris was left alone with his foxed-hounds, and the horrid realization that hurting you was the only way of keeping you safe.

3

Eris paced the length of your room for what felt like forever. He had already noticed every detail you kept in your room that made it so you, had fought with the inadequate feeling of invading your personal space. He had had time enough to consider if he was going insane and paranoid, but it was late and you weren’t there.

You always retreated to your rooms early in the night. Sometimes, he knew because he accompanied you when his brother was too drunk to remember your presence. Other times, he knew because you sneaked into his dorms right before night set. You were supposed to be there with him, teasing him for not being able to look away from the lingerie that lay forgotten in your armchair.

But you weren’t, and Eris was pacing.

That morning, as you all had lunch as a family, his mother had asked an inadequate but innocent answer. It was only logical that after almost five years of courting you started talking about the actual weeding, but you weren’t. Because his brother was too much of a dick to entertain it until he had enjoyed his youth to the fullest, and because you sneaked glances at him when no one was looking.

You had given her a simple answer – love matters took time, and better be safe than sorry. While everyone agreed quietly, Eris had noticed the way Flynn’s face darkened. As if the idea of you answering a question directed to both of you was inadequate.

Eris had left the dining room with an uneasy feeling, and had kept it in his stomach all day. When you hadn’t appeared during dinner time nor had his brother, he had decided to search for you.

You weren’t in the stables, where you spent most of your time between horses and his hounds. You weren’t in the kitchen, where you snuck off when Flynn got too much to handle. And you weren’t anywhere he looked, so he had decided to let the worry get the best out of him and wait for you in your rooms.

As if the thought of you had summoned you, the doors opened and Eris turned around in a frenzy.

“Thank the cauldron” he scoffed, already replacing the worry with anger. “Where the fuck have you been all day? Do I really have to wait here if I want to…”

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice void of any fire or charm.

He tried to make himself argue with you further, to explain his presence in your room with a stupid excuse and not let you know he had been worried. There was no blood or visible wounds on you, not new bruises or burns he can explain his sudden lack of words with.

But he could see something there, that made his blood boil and his heart beat furiously against his chest. You walked past him in silence and removed your heels next to your wardrobe. Without saying anything or acknowledging his presence, you peeled the eiderdown off and climbed inside the bed.

Only then he watched your shoulders tight as you tried to keep the cries to yourself. Eris walked on autopilot to the edge of your bed, and watched in silent horror as tears fell down your face. You were squeezing your eyes shut, probably wanting to be left alone, but he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like you had done so many times.

It was so different from what he knew, what you did with him, that he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he caressed your shoulder and you whined, your body turning around so you could face him.

“What happened?” he asked, his hand trembling with the effort of staying on your shoulder and not brushing the tears away.

“He locked me in a basement, because he said he was tired of seeing me everywhere and hearing me all the time” you admitted, curling your body around his. “There was no light. And I was fine, but he didn’t come back and I called. And no one answered and – “

Your explanation died with the first sob, and many followed. Eris knew what basement you were talking about. His father had locked him and his brothers many times in the past. Big enough to allow a standing person, but not to let them sit. Tight enough so a part of your body was always touching the wall, and dark enough to rob your breath.

Eris willed the words stuck on his throat to leave him. He wanted to lay down beside you and comfort you like he should. He wanted to break every last of his brother’s bones, and then some more.

“I was so scared” you admitted quietly, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “I thought – I thought I’d been forgotten”

“How did you get out?”

“Beron heard me”

He didn’t need to ask for further details, just tried to keep eye contact as your beautiful eyes were constantly drowning in tears and sorrow. His father was as cruel as Flynn, but until you were officially married, he still had to ensure your safety for your family’s sake.

You cried against his side and eventually your body gravitated to his lap. His free hand carefully brushed yours, and you held it so tight and hard that Eris choked his own cry. How many times he had felt alone in his own home? Forgotten in that same basement while Beron went hunting, or partying?

The thought of you locked in those four walls turned his stomach up. You, with your easy smile and your kind words. Full of kindness and love that no one in that court deserved, certainly not him.

Still, Eris held his ground sitting on your bed. He lighted some candles and sealed the room with a glamour against sound and strangers. The rational part of his brain told him to leave before someone came looking for him, the irrational part to do worse things. But he stayed on your bed, stroking his thumb across the back of your hand and brushing his fingers against the nape of your neck.

As you cried, Eris begged himself to do something with the words that resonated in his heart.

“You’re not forgotten, I could never forget you. I won’t”

“He could try and hide you in the last corner of the universe and I would still crawl my way to you, my little fox”

His mouth was kept shut and his fingers continued his ministration, until your breath slowed and your sobs disappeared. Then, when you were about to fall asleep with his hand in yours, you opened your eyes one last time and gave him a small smile. Maybe he hadn’t said anything, but he was starting to suspect you could read his mind and heart.

“I’m glad you came for me” you confessed quietly. “Thank you”

He should have said that he didn’t accept your gratefulness, that he wasn’t worthy of them. Instead, he smiled back and stared at you while you fell asleep. With his heart roaring just a big wilder.

4

His court was under attack.

Eris had come to that realization a month ago, when a missive from Hybern had reached their borders with a threat of dead and destruction. In that moment, he had thought it had been a minor attack. A political attack, a threat with little importance in a world where everybody hated his court.

But then, his father had dismissed the king demands and patrols started to go missing. Parts of those patrols came back, traumatized soldiers that died in a few days but that had enough time to scream horrors. More soldiers were sent into the forest, and more soldiers died.

For a month, Hybern had debilitated them in their own home until most of the army was unavailable. And now, his home was under attack.

The top part of the palace was on fire, people ran desperately through the corridors and soldiers from both sides fought in the backyard. Eris was sure Beron would be able to win that battle, maybe the war. Yet what worried him was that Beron didn’t particularly care about causalities, and there were many that had Eris’ heart in a knot.

He had managed to take his mother to safety, to a hidden room where women and children waited. He expected to see you there too, but instead, had found a hiding Flynn that didn’t answer his questions.

Eris had left his brother in the middle of a hallway with a shutten eye and two broken legs that wouldn’t let him get away from the soldiers. He hoped he would get killed so Eris wouldn’t be the one to carry the task.

As he ran through the castle against the waves of running people, the fire on his veins roared louder. What would he do, if he came upon the worst scenario? Would he crash his home down? It had been eight months since his birthday, and he had come to the realization he feared the most. That those times he seemed to spot you among a crowd, when his soul sang for you, where for a reason.

He hadn’t found the courage to tell you yet about the golden string he tugged at sometimes, hoping you would turn around and confirm his suspicions.

If he lost his mate today because of his brother’s cowardice, because of a war his father had started out of greed, Eris wasn’t sure the world would be a safe place for anyone anymore.

Asking the running members of his court would be useless, as it would be worrying about them seeing his panic-stricken expression. Eris focused on running and following his instinct, until it led him to the stables. The place where you had shared so many memories that was now a bloodbath.

Soldiers were lying on the ground, dead and unconscious, some of them begging for his help as he stepped over their bodies. The heart of the battle was close enough he could hear and smell death looming, but all of that died down when he finally saw you.

“Eris!” you cried out his name, and what was left of his heart clenched at the broken sound. “Eris I –“

Your cries were muffled by a rough hand over your mouth, of a soldier that hadn’t seen him yet. You were being dragged towards a carriage, your limbs flying around as you tried to get free from the enemies’ grip. Eris would have time to thank fate for allowing him to reach you on time, before you were taken away from him permanently.

Fire licked the carriage’s front, not letting their occupancies leave untouched. It consumed the vehicle in a matter of seconds, burning so powerful and tight that Eris felt light headed for a second. His power felt like a bottomless pit where he could dive without consequences, so he did just that.

Unleashing his short swords, he used both hands to clean his path towards you. The soldiers realized shortly after that their scape root was compromised, but too late that who had compromised it was the crown’s heir.

They didn’t stand a chance against his rage, his power. They fell to the ground like flies while all Eris saw was red. Red seeping through your wounds into the ground, staining your dress. Red pooling the earth beneath his feet as every last soldier fell to their death. Red of his power, that consumed every threat against his mate.

Once he was done, he crashed to his knees in front of you, and the fire died all together when your arms locked around his neck. He didn’t contemplate what it would look like when he pushed you farther into his embrace, listening to your heartbeat like a lullaby.

“You shouldn’t be outside” Eris whispered against your hair, the remains of his anger seeping through them. “If you were smart, you would have stayed inside. Dumb woman. What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to find you”

Your admission didn’t catch him off guard. You sounded so sincere, so relieved, that he only got angrier. Why was fate so cruel to bond him with such a kind soul? Of course, of every reason you could have gone outside, you would have chosen him.

“I didn’t know if you were okay” you continued, lifting your face from his chest to look at him. “What if you had been hurt?”

“And what would you do, hm?” Eris almost cut you off, suddenly repulsed by your touch.

That he had let you get so close to put yourself in danger was a mistake. It had been a mistake the first time he looked at you long enough to discover how bright your smile was. A mistake each time he had allowed you in his room to tend his wounds, every conversation you two had in secret.

There was no answer to his questions, and you knew it. Eris got up and didn’t offer you a hand, instead turning his face away from you. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to ignore the endless thoughts about what could have happen. The things he should have done better, because none of that mattered now.

Eris tried to ignore you when you finally got up and grabbed his hand. Your hand caressed his fingers, his hands, his arms. You caressed his skin as if he hadn’t just slaughtered ten strong, healthy soldiers with families.

“I somehow do irrational things when it comes to you” you spoke quietly, wrapping your hands around his elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in trouble. But the thought of you being hurt… I’m sorry”

“Let’s get you to safety” he grumbled, not acknowledging your apology.

He imagined what it would feel like to have you hanging from his arm in different circumstances, maybe in another world. Briefly, he indulged himself and slowed his steps so he could soak into it. There were bodies and blood, sounds of battle and death cries, but none of them seemed to matter as you walked down the hallways to the hidden room.

The battle was already dying down, but it wouldn’t be safe until nighttime. Eris would make sure every last enemy was death before letting you set a foot outside the safe room. He vowed himself to distance himself enough to never repeat that moment, and to protect you with whatever it took him. Indifference, cruelty. Whatever put you to safety.

What he couldn’t control was a last moment of vulnerability. He stopped right before the discrete doors where his mother and the rest of women and children waited. Turning to face you, his heart got the best of him and raised his arm without his consent.

“Be safe” you begged him. “Please. I don’t want to lose you”

“I will, little fox”

Eris tucked a strand of your hair, sticky with blood behind your ear. He watched like a hawk the cherry blush that painted your cheeks, the contained smile that you hid horribly. Instead of retreating, he let curious fingers explore the curve of your cheekbone. Your jawline, your chin. The curve of your nose and your lips.

His traitor fingers stopped at your bottom lip, tugging it down. It should have bothered him that those lips were meant for his brother, that they had already tasted him when his brother had gotten too handsy. But it didn’t, because they looked so kissable that he thought he had imagined it when you leaned forward.

When your eyes fluttered closed and his body gravitated too, he thought he imagined. The distance became shorter and everything became white noise. Eris had dreamed so long about it that he thought he was dreaming.

But not even his dreams were so livid, so real. He blinked one last time before crashing into your lips with a straining force. You tasted like blood from your open lip, and like clouds and sky and perfection. There were teeth and tongue and he couldn’t control himself more than the kiss.

Shockingly, he was the one pushed against the opposite door, your much smaller body trapping him as you grabbed him by the shoulders. He stole every breath and whine that left your mouth with kissing. For those few seconds, he let himself explore each inch of your mouth like it was the last minute of his life.

It might had been, if someone saw you with him and told Beron. His father thought had him pushing you away, so hard you stumbled down.

“Get inside” Eris demanded you, gripping your elbow harshly. You blinked with those swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and he clenched his jaw.

“Eris…”

“Don’t come out, not until I come back. Be fucking smart for once in your life” he opened the door and dozens of women stared at you two.

Something in his chest stilled when your eyes widened and that bond became alive. When he was certain that you felt the same tug he had been feeling for a long time, that he had lost sleep over. It dawned to him that nothing would be the same after that day, whether the attack finished or not. Whether his father found out or those women kept silent.

So, for the first time in his life, Eris let himself accept those hidden feelings and kissed you one last time. Slow, deep, in front of his mother who covered her mouth with a surprised gasp. He dragged his lips between yours, only for a second.

When he tore away, Eris was sure he would die happy if that face was the last thing he saw.

“Don’t leave the room until I come back, my little fox. Only me”

Eris didn’t let you answer. He turned around and closed the doors behind him, running down the hallways. Looking for the enemy, for his brother whose betrothed had just kissed, for his father who could kill you both. And away from where his heart was safe with you.

5

Not even a week of mourning was stablished for the deaths at the Hybern attack. Not even a week for the thousands of soldiers who had died defending his home.

Eris had made sure that every family got their loved ones’ bodies back, and that there was enough wood to light up fires for them. He mourned more for them than for his own family, who had suffered an immense hit.

Flynn Vanserra had been found ravished in a forgotten hallway, his body mangled beyond recognition. People whispered that he had found an end according to his life – cruel, mean, without mercy. Eris stared at his brother’s corpse and curled his lip, because before his death, not a scar marked his body. While he had usen yours like a blank canvas.

Beron Vanserra had died too, and that had rattled Eris’ world.

His father had been the main objective, and after he had fallen from the upper tower, the enemy had retreated. Beron was dead before he hit the ground, courtesy of a dozen poisoned arrows on his chest. Eris had watched his body burn in silence contemplation, thinking about how many times his father had raised his fire against him.

Now, it was Eris who light up his father’s tomb fire.

Days brushed quickly but there was one thing that had him grounded – you. Eris Vanserra was officially a High Lord, so no one argued when you appeared by his arm on Beron’s funeral. When you moved your things to the room besides him.

His people whispered about the caring brother who had taken upon the charge of his betrothed so she wouldn’t be discarded. And about the cruel king who had killed his own brother to wed a nameless girl. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of those comments.

He just kept you close as loyalties were stablished, letting everyone know that you were off limits. For touching, for hurting, for insulting. One noble was brave enough to question your place in the palace with Flynn death, and one noble lost his tongue the next morning.

As everything settled down, Eris found himself taking walks with you through the forest, something his brother had never bothered to do. You hung from his arm gracefully, new and expensive dresses on your wardrobe, and a radiant smile on your face.

“Will you teach me how to ride?” you asked him one sunny afternoon. “So I can ride hunting with you”

“I will get you your own horse if that’s what my mate wants” he let the title sweeten his mouth, warm his heart. “I will get you whatever your heart desire, my little fox”

“Maybe I’ll turn into a spoiled princess then. And you will find your ruin at my expensive demands” you chuckled, shifting closer to him.

You could ask him for a court and he would fight to death with anyone to grant you your own court. You could ask him for his court and he would get on his knees and offer it to you without another word. Those words were meaningless, because you rarely asked him for anything. Even when you had changed rooms, you had been happy with just a bed and a blanket.

“I’m happy with being here, close to you. I don’t need anything else”

The more time he spent with you, the more he marveled at your selflessness. You had been helping those with injuries from the fight, talking with the families who were grieving. By nighttime, you returned to your chambers where Eris was waiting for you, having abandoned his own for yours. You two laid in bed looking at each other until you fell asleep.

Then, Eris spent hours staring at you, letting his heart soak into the comfort.

“You are quiet today” you commented, breaking him from his thoughts. “Court problems?”

Eris always had court problems. The change was coming slowly but surely, and his father’s loyal friends weren’t happy with that. But it wasn’t their enmity that had him deep in thought. The last rays of sun warmed your face as he looked at you with a small smile.

Talking about his feelings was his weakness. He had been mean, cruel and downright villainous to you for years because he couldn’t open his heart to you. He couldn’t endure the thought of you hurting because of his stupid feelings.

But he wanted things to change. He wanted you to be happy and safe, and if he had to share his thoughts and swallow his insecurities, he would.

“I was wondering” he admitted eventually, a little unsure. “We are mate. But… do you think, we would have found each other? If we weren’t?”

You looked surprised at his questions. You hadn’t talked about the bond, just accepted it. When Eris had found you after the battle, you had hugged him tight and kissed him once more. You hadn’t talked about it, and yet, you both were comfortable with it.

After the initial surprise, you gifted him a soft smile, and your eyes crinkled against the sun.

“I would have found you either way, Eris. You had me since I set a foot in this court” you answered him. “I used to worry that there was something wrong with me, because I couldn’t feel anything for Flynn. Not love, not hate. Nothing. Whatever he did was fine because it was the price I paid to stay close to you. And it was worthy”

“Don’t say that, Y/N”

“I can’t, that’s what I feel. And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’ve loved you for a long time, my darling. Long before I knew we were mates and through all we’ve been through. I’m sure I would have loved you even if we weren’t mates”

Eris wondered if he would ever be able to speak so freely about his thoughts. He couldn’t still voice out what he felt for you. How he would turn the world around if you asked him to, how your love was enough to keep him alive forever. For now, though, Eris smiled and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your nose, earning a soft giggle.

He would tell you all of that someday, show you his feelings when his words were stuck. Eris Vanserra owned you that much.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[azsazz]

With Me

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I know your request are closed but still writing. In the future could you do something with Eris x rhys sister?

Warnings: Graphic depictions of canon violence

Word Count: 1,520

_________________________________________

It had been on a wisp of an autumn breeze that Eris found out.

Found out about the plans of the High Lord of Spring, how he and his sons planned an ambush on the wife and daughter of the High Lord of Night on their travels to the Illyrian mountains for a visit with her son.

He had been on his horse, red as the leaves on the trees, scouting the borders between Autumn and Spring. The wind ruffled his hair and tickled his pointed ears with the whispers of scheming sons. Eris had stilled the mare beneath him and urged the current with a touch of magic to enhance the conversation.

That High Lord will pay for everything he’s tried to do to ours.

He won’t even know what’s coming. And neither will those little bitches.

Dibs on the older one.

It had eaten Eris throughout the day. Across the rest of his round on the border, during battle strategy, between sword fighting with his younger brothers. Lucien was learning quickly how to play his brothers against each other, and even scored a hit on Eris while his mind had been run through with worry.

He is a smart male but the thought of going to his father with this news didn’t feel right, but keeping it to himself felt even worse. So, after a family dinner that he loathed, Eris put on his emerald robes and marched into the Night Court territory.

He was too late. 

Eris caught the scent of your blood on a tornado of wind that carried the harrowing cries of you and your mothers downfall. You had been brutally attacked by the Spring Court sons and their father, and as Eris crept closer he saw blood coated flowers sprouting from the ground. The High Lord’s magic, a love note to the High Lord of Night.

A soft gurgle caught his attention as he stepped into the clearing washed in moonlight. The sight before him was harrowing; your carriage door ripped off its hinges, the windows blown out. Even the large, black steeds that had been pulling the wagon had been slaughtered, their entrails long lines in the white snow.

A wet cough, one with the whisper of death accompanying it drew his attention. Eris didn’t hesitate to locate you, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you curled beneath your slain mother, her arms still wrapped around you protectively. 

Your eyes were wide with fear, mouth gaping like a fish. Blood of both yours and your mothers surrounded you, leaking from your lips, from between the hands you had pressed weakly to your stomach.

Falling to his knees, Eris reached a hand out but halted when your eyes met his. His mind was reeling, a young warrior with little battlefield experience before a female struggling through her thinning breaths.

Something stirred deeply within him, something he knew but couldn’t say, wouldn’t admit out loud until years later. 

You had enough strength to shift your hand in the snow, reaching towards him, eyes screaming a plea for help from the handsome son of Autumn. 

And he did. He held your organs in his hands as he winnowed you from Night into his own territory, right into the hands of his mother. 

Amaretto stood with a start, the book in her hands falling loudly to the floor. There were no sounds in the room, not even the crackling of the fires raging in the hearths. She kept it this way so she could hear the sounds of her husband's footsteps when he walked down the marble halls of the Woodland House, each echo a shot to her confidence.

“Eris,” she gasps at her son, who looks over at her with wide, pleading, auburn eyes. She halts in her tracks, that look in his eyes, the sheer terror on his face. Her own eyes softened with a knowing look, and she uttered, “Oh, Eris.”

He and his mother worked in tandem all through the night. And when Beron’s footsteps began to sound down the hall Eris had been the one to distract him, goad him. He didn’t care about the bruises and pain inflicted by his father’s hand because it was nothing to the pain he could feel from you, through the thread of the bond that had appeared at the sight of you. 

His mother saved your life with the little trickle of healing magic she had left. Always hidden from Beron, but would use it to save her son’s mate’s life. Two gentle souls that deserved much better hands that you had been dealt in the world.

Eris stayed by your side when you had been moved to a guest room. You hadn’t woken for days and he couldn’t figure out a way to hide you from his father who would surely use you against the Night Court, who were mourning the news of their felled female family members.

Word had come of the slaying of the Spring Court High Lord and the two eldest sons, leaving young Tamlin to take his place. In the fray, the High Lord of Night had been murdered as well, with Rhysand taking the chair of rule.

It was all very confusing times. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Eris,” you plead, tears staining your eyes. He can feel the cracking in your chest even though you’re trying to hide it from him. You’ve never been good at blocking your feelings from your loving mate, but the thought of returning home was all too much. Eris wasn’t understanding your fear, your need to go home to the Night Court after so long away, after Amarantha’s reign of terror has finally ended. “I need to see my brother.”

Eris had hidden you from the wretched female while he and all of the other citizens of the Autumn Court had been forced beneath the mountain. It had been a long, lonely fifty years of trying to find a way to get back to Velaris, to get inside of the barriers that had been protected with an extra boost of Rhysand’s power before he became trapped.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, hugging you closely. The both of you are laid up in his bed, days of reacquainting each other with the other’s body after so long away. Your mate had all but fallen apart in your arms, and you in his, the loneliness of your years spent wondering how your mate fared against the powerful female set to ruin your world. 

“Come with me,” you beg wetly, clutching to his clothes. He had winnowed right back into your arms as soon as he was able, and he hasn’t let you go since. You hadn’t wanted him to. “Let’s run away from Autumn, together.” 

Just like Lucien had done, chased away from the Court he knew as home while their awful brothers hunted him down. It had been another harrowing night for Eris, one you held him through. 

Only the knowledge that his brother was safe in the Spring Court had kept him from completely falling apart.

“I can’t just leave like this, fawn,” he answers wetly, stroking your hair back from your face. You’re as beautiful as the day you woke up, when your eyes landed on his and the bond made itself known to you. He has spent every day since thanking the Mother for this time with you, for sparing you that winter night, for keeping you safe when he was trapped under the mountain with no way out. “Not yet.”

Your voice breaks and hot tears stream down your face, throat tightening to the point where no words could break if you tried. You want Eris to come with you, you need Eris to come with you. You’ve only just gotten him back and it cannot be time to give him up already.

“It’s okay, fawn,” Eris consoles sadly. He will keep you in his arms tonight and tomorrow, up until he escorts you to your brother’s land and makes sure that you are safe with them. He has been a selfish male for so many years, falling headfirst into the mating bond. He’d fallen into you completely and without any remorse, the same way you had found yourself falling into him. “You need to do this. And I will be here, fighting for a better life for us until we can be together, freely.”

Eris and Amaretto had come up with an elaborate plan to tell the rest of the family. That Eris would hide you until you healed, and found his mate at the Autumnal Equinox balls. It would ensure your safety, being classed as a High Fae, but also being Eris’ mate. You had learned to deal with Beron and Eris’ insufferable brothers for years.

You love Eris with every fiber of your being, and the thought of parting with him so soon after getting him back tears your heart to shreds, but you need to go, especially after everything Eris had told you happened down there. 

“I love you, Eris.” 

“I love you too, fawn.”

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part two

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to an end.

warnings: none besides being slightly unedited.

word count: 1.4k

4 months later 

Dearest Wynnie Lara,

I hope you are doing well, we miss you very dearly in the Night Court but understand you leaving after such harsh things were spoken to you. I wanted to invite you to Nyx’s first birthday celebration. He does miss you so much. (As do we).

After finding out what Azriel and the other two had said to you I almost blew up their homes with the help of my sisters. 

Elain misses you very much, even though she writes letters to you weekly, you and her seemed to help each other heal after everything happened to you both. She won't tell anybody where you have gone so I will be handing this letter to her in hopes it reaches you. 

We miss you so much, and I hate that the boys said those harsh things to you for no reason. You are not a bother, or suffocating, you light up every space you go into which is so refreshing, I do not want you to feel forced to come home (Nesta feels otherwise, she misses you so much she almost started a war with another court in search of you.) But we do want you to know you do have a home here. No matter what. I know Rhys feels devastated with how the situation turned out, even though it is partially his fault.  I want to make it clear how sorry we are for their actions and that we adore you. 

Lovingly, 

Feyre

I crumple the edges of the letter with tears streaming down my face, with a shaking breath I fold the letter gently and put it back into the envelope. I set it with the piles of letters Elain has sent to me on my coffee table. I wipe my face and head over to my rough looking door of the tree house that I am living in and latch it. This area of the Autumn Court has always been on the poorer side but it was home. Growing up with no family and moving around as a fairy was never safe, so before Amarantha’s reign I settled in this area of Autumn. 

Having not been to this home in two years it took a while to get it back into shape, cleaning and removing critters that have turned it into their home while I was gone. I have wind chimes and wards surrounding this home just like my other one, the difference here though is the Autumn wind is much more soothing for me then in any other court. It’s almost like my soul knows it's safe here. 

I have my wind playing soothing music with the small instruments placed around the open room. Candles lit and windows open for the utmost ambiance while I research different wind patterns.

I hear one of my chimes go off near the front door that catches my attention, I get up from the table and walk back to the door.  Frantic knocking is what I hear once I get to the door itself, I rip it open to see what is wrong. 

“Miss Wynnie!” with a sob, and I look down to see one of the kids I help take care of from the children’s shelter near my tree house. Little antlers poke through his red hair, and tears stream down his tanned face as he launches towards me. 

“Oatie what is the matter?” I say and crouch to his level. I put my hands on his shoulders to sooth him and look him in the eyes.

“Those mean guards are back at the shelter, they are demanding more money.” Oatie is a twelve year old boy who had to grow up quickly due to being an orphan partially under Beron’s rageful reign, but he was still a gentle soul. Things have started to get better slowly with the new High Lord, but it is a slow process when the court has so much hate built in. 

“Okay sweet boy, it’s going to be alright. Go curl up on the couch with a book and some tea and I will go take care of this okay?” I tell him with a soft voice. He nods and heads off that way. Once he is settled on the couch I fix my dress, and re-braid the two long braids under my bob and fly off the balcony.

When I arrive at the shelter there are two guards yelling at the volunteer on duty at the shelter. With a burst of wind I separate them from the worker, and land in front of them. I motion for the worker to go inside.

“What is the issue here?” I bark at them, their heated eyes turn to me.

“They owe us money for protection.” The one on the right says with a grunt.

“That’s your job. The High Lord literally pays you to protect the people. So that was the wrong answer, do me a favor and try again.” I say while rolling my eyes and shifting my weight to one hip. 

“You bitch.” One says and I let out a laugh with a clap of my hands. I know I probably shouldn’t egg them on but it’s so easy. As I am about to respond they both seem to stiffen and look behind me.

“Well that’s no way to speak to a lady.” I turn to face the new voice, which belongs to High Lord Eris, who recently has had his hair trimmed since the last time I saw him. 

“She is barely a lady, my lord.” One said with a snicker. I respond with a glare and a large gust of wind knocking them both over.

I turn to face Eris completely and give him a graceful curtsy grabbing the edges of my green dress. To which I receive a sucking of the teeth sound from him.

“Wynnie dear, stand up please. You don’t have to bow to me, we are old friends.” He says with a soft smile. The two guards seemed to have disappeared leaving the two of us alone. I straighten and glow a soft pink with a cheeky grin say,

“Yes, well, I have to show my respect My Lord.” He chuckles and makes a small lunge toward me, so I float backwards and he narrowly misses me. 

“You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me sir.” He grunts a small breath and lunges towards me again. And I am suddenly reminded of when we were younger.

“Eris! Where are you?” I yell knowing he is hiding behind one of the trees with his hounds. 

“Got you!” I hear from behind me and feel my waist being pulled into someone's chest. I look up over my shoulder and see Eris with a wide grin. I pout at him. 

“That’s not fair.” I whine. “You know I am afraid of your pups, they think I am a big bird waiting to be hunted.”  He laughs in response. 

“I would never let them hurt you Wynnie Lara, I would never let anyone hurt you.” He said softly. “You are my only friend in this wretched court. I will burn it down to protect you.” 

“Eris that is sweet but, you are an heir would that not be counterproductive?” I ask teasingly but my skin glowing a bright warm orange with endearment. 

“Not for you Wynnie.” He says.

“I can’t stay in this area long, but I did want to invite you to dinner soon.”  He tells me when we both are sitting on the forest floor. Me on a rock with my wings glowing and him leaned up against it. My hands naturally find his hair and gently run my fingers through it. 

“I would love to.” I tell him, “I might visit the Night Court here soon.” I say with a whisper.

“Oh?” He asks me softly.

“Nyx is turning one and I miss the girls a little bit.” I responded.

“Yes, that's understandable. I still am beyond livid for how you were treated there.” He says back with a huff. And I laugh a little, “You and me both.” 

“I will have to send you with a gift, hmm?” He tells me. 

“That would be very kind of you, my lord.” And in response I get him standing up and pinching my sides. 

“Mercy! Mercy!” I say in between giggles. 

“Alright Wynn. I will send a letter for dinner when you return. Be safe and have a good night.” He tells me with a pat to the head and soft voice. 

a/n: soooooooooooo what do with think???

I am a sucker for soft Eris omggggg. Please if any questions please let me know!

I am trying the taglist I hope it works lmao

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor

[surielstea]

Move Me, Baby

Eris Week, Day Seven: Free day

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (arranged marriage)

Summary: Reader and Eris slowly fall in love with both the music and each others movements, on the dance floor and off.

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | Beron being Beron | p in v | 18+ | creampie | begging | praise | suggestive | teasing/taunting

A. Note: Last Eris Week day, and it would not be a Surielstea Eris fic without a ballroom scene, so enjoy… ;)

3.9k words.

Eris has never felt this way before. This eagerness and anticipation. But this female, his betrothed, she was changing things, stirring up feelings that he had long since thought dead. Hope, being one of them.

He stood outside my door anxiously, silently pacing back and forth as he waited for the clock to strike seven, when he was supposed to be here. He hadn't meant to come so early, but his impatience got the better of him and suddenly he was dressed and ready and meandering towards my chambers.

I was unaware of the males presence just outside my room, too busy admiring myself in the mirror. The dress Eris had gifted me this morning was exquisite. Made of the smoothest silk, the deep green shimmering fabric catching the light as it moved like water— and when I put it on I looked as beautiful as an emerald.

The cut of the dress was beyond flattering, with a low neckline and form fitting bodice that hugged me in all the right places. The skirt of the dress was long and flowing into a train that blended from emerald to a glimmering gold.

I decorated myself in golden jewelry, adorning a few rings that paired well with my engagement ring.

I looked to the clock on the wall to see it a minute past seven, when a knock sounded at the door.

I smiled slightly and strides over to the door, I took a moment— making sure my hair was still neat and my painted lips weren't smudged for the umpteenth time. Then I swung open the door and was greeted with the Heir of Autumn.

Eris froze as soon as he saw me, his eyes drinking in every inch of me. His mind went quiet and his throat dried, he had always thought I was gorgeous but tonight I was downright devastating.

I noticed how he stared particularly long at my chest, his eyes roaming over my ample cleavage on display.

Finally, he looked to my eyes and sucked in a sharp breath, understanding that he had been caught.

"You're late, Vanserra," I say and he gives me one of his signature smirks that had my knees buckling. "What's your poor excuse?"

"I know, I know," He rolled his eyes at my chiding tone. "By all of one minute." He adds and I smile up at him. He reaches forward and brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You look absolutely sinful," He said as I linked my arm with his.

I smile broadly. "I know," I sent him a wink and his smirk only widened.

We walked in silence towards the ballroom, but every now and then Eris would steal glances down at me and how perfectly the dress he chose for me hugged my dips and curves. He had never seen something so worthy of worship.

He wanted to be closer, linking arms wasn't enough, he needed more than friendly contact— but he had promised a night of dancing and sparkling wine, not a night in his bed, no matter how much he fantasized about the latter.

"Act like you're in love with me," I say through a tight lipped smile as two royal guards open the large wooden doors leading into the ballroom.

He momentarily wagers how brutal my glare would be if he rolled his eyes, but decided it best to place a hand on the small of my back, bare due to the low cut of my dress.

We strode into the ballroom as one, his protective grip on me claiming me off limits to any male who thought they were good enough for me. I ease into a graceful saunter, nodding my head at bowing guests and curtsying court members. My fae ears perked up at the sound of soft music playing from the live orchestra in the center of the ballroom, filling the large hall with notes and tunes of beauty. I would've lost myself in the sound of it if Eris hadn't guided me over to the dais, where his father and mother sat in their thrones— or rather throne, the Lady of Autumn was sat in a simple, cushioned chair instead.

Eris's mask of cold calculation slipped in place as his arm left my waist in favor of bowing to his parents formally. I do the same, curtsying with a feminine grace that took years of practice.

"Father," Eris rose from his position and I did so I few moments afterwards. "Mother," He nodded his head.

The High Lord gazed at me with a sickeningly honeyed expression, as he always did, and Eris's hand slipped back into mine protectively. The movement doesn't go past either of their notices, but while Beron narrowed his eyes, his wife smiled softly.

"Our newly weds," The Highlord purrs, his eyes taking me in with feline enthusiasm. "You look absolutely delectable tonight, my dear," He hums and I nod with a soft smile.

"Thank you, my lord," I will myself to sound polite and pray it doesn't come off as sarcasm. Eris's hand squeezes mine, relaxing me slightly.

"You are quite proper compared to the last lovers my son has taken into his bed," The high lord says and Eris stiffens.

"Father, I would appreciate it if we didn't discuss past partners while in the presence of my wife." Eris said with a terse voice.

'My wife.' He had said, the words still echoing off the walls of my mind as Beron replied, "Oh c'mon, boy. I'm only teasing, surely she isn't too bothered by it. Right my girl?" His cold gaze slides back to me and my back straightens under the weight of his gaze. I try not to cringe at the nickname and the possessiveness that came with it, but Eris made his distaste clear.

"I don't mind in the slightest, My Lord," I say with a soft voice, leaning into Eris's side, telling him it was all a ruse and I was fine, that even if I was upset I didn't need his protection. But I could still feel the heat rolling off of him, he was ready to pounce and shred into him like one of his smokehounds might.

"See? Shes a perfect little obedient wife, isn't she?" Beron arched a brow, directing all his attention at his son. I wanted to reassure Eris, to tell him his father was only saying all this because he knew that when he spoke of me it got under his skin the most, but that comment, it made my stomach knot and bile threaten at the back of my throat.

Beron smirks, satisfied at the level of discomfort he had breached in both of you. "She is perfect, yes. I would have no complaints." Eris said with a cool grace that I marveled at.

Berons smile widened with amusement, to my dismay. "You've got quite the grip on my son, girl," He hums. "Wrapped around his finger." Beron leans lazily back into his throne. Neither of us supply a retort, which seemed to invoke enough boredom for him to excuse us. "Well, off you go then. The guests have come to see that happy couple dance."

We bow in a synchronized motion once more before Eris whisks me away towards the dancing aristocrats, planting his hands on my hips and holding my back to his chest as he guided me through the grand hall, as far as he could get from his father.

"You didn't have to answer that, you know," He mutters beside my ear, his lowered voice sending a shiver down my exposed spine.

"Answer what?"

"What my father said. About me being with other lovers, you didn't have to agree with him." He clarifies and I frown, my brows bunching.

"I simply didn't see the point in starting an argument with the High Lord at a ball thrown in our honor," I supply, whirling around to face him, he was much closer than I was anticipating and I had to crane my neck to look up into his gold flecked amber eyes.

"I only meant that you didn't have to go along with his teasing, I can't imagine it's very amusing to think about your husband's past partners." Eris expressed.

"Why?" I tilt my head. "I don't have an issue with you being with women prior to me, we live long lives, I don't have any right to be upset about what's happened in the past." I say while mindlessly straightening his dark green suit jacket. He let out a strained sigh and I glanced up at him, a smirk pulling at my lips.

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Vanserra," I taunt and he scoffs, looking anywhere but my eyes.

"Please. I am not, that's laughable." He shakes his head.

"Really? So my past relationships don't affect you in the slightest?" I suggest with an arched brow.

He looks down at me, it was humiliating the way he towered above me. "No, I suppose you're right that it is jealousy. My perfect little obedient wife having a history of other males certainly does not please me." He retorted and I sneered at the recall of his father's description of me.

"You're almost too easy to rile up these days, My Lord," I grin devilishly up at him.

"Oh, you're pushing it Princess," his hands return to my hips. "If it's anything, it's the dress you're wearing that is riling me up." He stated amusedly and I smirk, not falling into the flustered haze he wanted me to.

"It's only a dress," I reply innocently. "One that may end up on the floor of our bedroom tonight if you play your cards right."

"Keep talking like that and I doubt this dress will even make it to the bedroom." He remarks and I curse myself for blushing, losing the little game we had been playing as a rush of heat washes down me.

"Is that a threat, or a promise?"

"Could be both, but I'd mark it as a warning."

"Careful now or we might find ourselves skipping this ball entirely." I grin at him mischievously.

"Is that such a bad thing? I'd much rather have you to myself than watch all these people gawk at you," He smugly says.

"We must dance at least once, first." I say with a knowing certainty, pulling him closer to the dance floor, towards the rising music that I could feel thrumming through my bones.

He lets out a low grumble but obliged anyways, and took my hand in his, his other on my waist. "Alright, one dance and then I will carry you back to our rooms if I have to." He said with a defeated sigh, his eyes roving over me as I pulled him onto the tiled floor, in the center, closest to the music.

"So impatient," I tease while placing a hand on the nape of his neck.

The music flows into a new song, and like clockwork Eris and I easily slip into a graceful waltz. It came like second nature, spinning and twirling beneath the warm lighting, the gold of my dress fanning out, the other dancers giving us a wide berth at the flowing fabric.

I was far too aware of the eyes that were on us, some stealing glances between turns, others outright staring. But my husband didn't seem affected, he was too caught up in my movements to comprehend the idea of anyone else. I flash him a wide smile as he twirls me, then pulls me into his chest with enough force to invoke my crashing into him.

The music ceases and we're met with our heavy breathing, his hands tightly on my hips. "We have danced," He stated with a puff of breath. "And now I am free to be as much of a selfish ass as I wish," He hummed, slipping his hand into mine and pulling me off the dance floor before the next song could start.

I let out a soft laugh as he steers me through the throng of court ladies attempting to get our attention that he ignored, and continued to lead me towards the door. "Calm down, your highness." I purr, squeezing his hand slightly. The use of the nickname made him pause, and he turned back to look at me. "We can't just ditch halfway through a ball that was set in motion for us," I explain.

"There's nothing left for us to do here, aside from me standing here, watching as the others stare at how ravishing you look tonight." He intoned and I flashed him a lovely, innocent smile.

"And that's such a bad thing?" I bat my lashes up at him and he smirks, taking a step towards me and closing the distance between us.

He leans in closer, his voice a rolling purr as he says, "You have no idea how incredibly torturous it is to watch every one here foam at the mouth over the sights of you in that dress"

"You're being dramatic." I scoff, looking at the crowd surrounding us who quickly averted their gazes. "The looks everyone was casting our way had little to do with me." I shrug and look back to the Heir.

"My fawn, do not go shy on me now. You look like an angel tonight." He shakes his head and turns away from me again, his hand still interlaced with mine as he pulls me through the large doors which the guards closed behind us, shutting the peering eyes of the crowd out.

"An angel, hm? Careful Vanserra you're starting to sound like you have some real feelings for me." I say, bumping into him playfully.

"My 'Real Feelings' for you would be on display the moment we walked into that ballroom if I wasn't worried about ruffling our people." He makes clear and I grin. Our people. I might have been from the winter court but he was fully prepared to share his lordship with me, as his high lady.

"Oh?" I glance up at him. "And what exactly do these 'Real Feelings' consist of?" I say while continuing the journey back to our chambers.

"Would you like a demonstration?" He suggests as we reach the doors of our suite.

"I've always been a visual learner." I retort, the flirtatious hum in my voice enough to send any male wild.

"You know exactly which buttons to push to drive me mad, don't you?" He asks while throwing open the door and following in after me.

"I don't hear you complaining." I shrug, my snarky attitude sending him into a spiral. He tightened his hold on my hand and pulled me back, pressing me into the door and pushing it shut with my weight.

"No, I'm certainly not complaining." His hand comes to my waist, and the click of the lock makes my ears perk up. "Quite the opposite actually," He confesses, leaning forward and pressing a claiming kiss just below my jawline, licking, sucking, and biting at my neck. I let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his lips on my skin.

"Eris," I murmur through a hushed moan.

"Yes, love?" He voices, the sound vibrating against my neck.

"You're moving too slow, I think you've been patient enough with me." I grumble, my hand slinking into his deep red hair and tugging on it slightly as he tortures a particularity sensitive spot just below my pulse point.

"You're going to be the end of me." He grumbles, his restraint slowly slipping from his grasp. "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?"

"Enlighten me." I smirk with lustful eyes, a challenge.

"The list of things would take us days to get through, my dear." He admits and my core heats at the idea, a wicked grin on my lips.

"Good thing we've got nothing but time." I suggest.

"You're not making it easy for me to maintain my control." He grouses against my skin.

"Who says I want that?"

"You're toeing a dangerous line, pretty girl." He narrows his eyes on me, a cold smirk playing at his lips.

"There's no line, it's just a statement." I retort, my hand tugging at his hair while the other undoes the buttons of his shirt. "Right now there is nothing I want more than for you to lose control." I admit and his teeth brush over my neck as he grins wildly.

"Have it your way love." He grabs my hips and pulls me over to the bed, practically carrying me and settling me down onto the bed.

"Please." I press my thighs together, my hands fumbling to get his shirt off.

"What do you need?" He hummed, coming to hover over me, his muscled arm mmm flexing with the movement.

"You, I need you." I murmur as he dips down, his lips sealing over that same sensitive place on my neck, biting and kissing around it, forming a group of purple marks around the area.

"Oh yeah?" He purrs, his knee coming down to press in between my legs. I gasp, gripping the sheets beneath me as he allowed me to grind down on it, friction sparking up my spine.

"Yes, oh gods, yes I need you." I sigh, my head tilting back, giving him further access to my throat.

"And what do you need me to do to you, my pretty wife?" He asks and my mind reels with possibilities. A list, he said he had. I wanted every item on that list crossed off by the end of tonight.

"Eris I can't take it anymore, please," I writhe beneath him, biting into my lower lip to stop myself from pleading with him any further.

"Keep begging and I'll consider it." He drawls, his voice low and flooded with lust.

My breath hitched as I let out a soft, "Please." My head is heavy with need and my core thrummed. "Please take me right here, right now. Do whatever you want to me Eris just, please, I need you inside of me." I whimper, pathetic, that's what I was, and I'll be full of shame in the morning when I remember how needy I am, but right now the only thing I cared about was his touch.

A resounding tear sounded through the room and I gasped, looking down to see my dress falling from my frame. "I warned you what would happen to this dress if you kept your teasing up." He growled and I grinned, showing off all my teeth.

"I've never been too mindful of warnings." I utter, hands moving to the buckle of his pants as he kisses across my collar bone.

"I'm painfully aware." He grits through his teeth, holding back his groan as I palmed him through his pants.

He pulled back to look down at me, taking in every dip and curve of my body, his hands caressing over my waist and it felt like flames licking up my side. "Gods you're beautiful." He murmured, mostly to himself.

I revel in his touch, left only in my underwear before him. He helps me with the task of his pants, thrashing them off and discarding them onto the floor to join my ruined dress.

His hard length met my clothed cunt and I gasped, my hands forming into fists at the sudden stimulation.

"Eris, please," I whine, my brows furrowing with need. He smirks and in one fluid movement he's moving my panties down my thighs, revealing how wet I was, all for him. He grunts at the sight, his eyes losing any emotion except desire, lust.

His eyes trace the outline of my body as he leans down, his lips pressing to mine and I moan as his cock pressed into my aching folds. He takes the opportunity of my open mouth to slip his tongue in, exploring with it eagerly, flicking and curling it so skillfully that it made me wonder what it could do in other places.

"You sure about this, baby?" He panted into my mouth, his words ghosting across my raw lips.

I nod, fervent to please him, to feel him.

"Words beautiful, use your words," He whispered over my lips.

"Yes, Eris, please— I'm sure," I whimper and he grins, my words all he needed to hear before aligning his head with my entrance and pushing in.

I gasp at the stretch, my hips lifting and back arching in adjustment as he continues filling me, inch after inch, seeking new unfound levels of pleasure. I move my hands to his back, muscles shifting as he leans down.

His hips meet mine, fully sheathed inside of me. I look down at where we connect, my pulse picked up as he begins to move, and I watch, stare as he pulls out only to thrust back in, stretching me wide.

He continues his brutally slow pace, groaning and panting filling the room as I grow more and more used to the pain, slowly morphing into pleasure.

“Yes, Eris, yes,” I chant, shoving my head back into the pillows, eyes rolling back as he molds my elastic walls to his cock.

“You’re doing so well, such a good girl,” He praised, leaning over me and pressing a kiss to my cheek, his touch all too innocent as one of his hands comes up to grope my breast. His touch was smoldering and burning, but I delighted in it, for it was purely him and no one else could replicate the marks he left on my skin.

“Eris,” I whimper, his name the only thing my mouth could form, everything else was an incoherent moan. “Eris,” I repeat and I realize I was praying to a god willing to answer my every request.

“I know, I know,” He said over my skin, his warm voice like embers still crackling. “You going to come, my love?” He taunts, but I was too caught up in reaching my high to pick up on his teasing tone.

I nod frantically, scratching my nails down his back.

“Go ahead, come for me.” He implored and I let out a cry of pleasure as his thumb presses to my clit, the bundle of nerves sending shockwaves up my spine.

A wave of white hot ecstasy washed down my spine, staining my cheeks, warming me down to my very bone.

His climax was quick to follow, my clamping down on him beckoned him to barrel towards his peak, his release seeping into my most untouched places.

He co tinted to guide me through my high, slowly coming down. He leaned forward and placed a supple kiss to my sweat slick forehead. “You did so good, my dear,” He murmured into my skin as he slowly pulled out, grunting softly as I milked him for all he was worth.

“Come now, let’s get you cleaned up,” He gathered me into his arms and I smiled softly at the warmth and familiarity of his embrace. And I knew then, as I found comfort as he cradled me, that it was no longer just sex, but rather what I had been craving for years and hadn’t been able to name it. This intangible thing that I had always yearned for without realizing it, love, I loved him. I knew there was no return from this point on.

Eris Week Tag List: @adharanotfound @mp-littlebit @its-me-meg @olive-main @bookwormysblog @inurus @iwishiwasaprincess @randomgurl2326 @tigerlily00 @i-know-i-can @bubybubsters @booklover0318 @lalaluch @hallabongy @paintedbyshadows @ninthcircleofprythian @chasing-autumns-chill @deepestmentalitypersona @myromanempiree @rosewood-cafe @witchmoon10 @andreperez11

[heartysworld]

Your Beauty Never Scared Me || Lucien x Reader

Your relationship with your future mother-in-law was not bad, but you knew she likes to keep her distance most of the time. You turned the corner of the big hallway, finding yourself in front of Lucien's chambers. His mother was outside, pacing in front of the doors. Tears were streaming down her face.

"My Lady, what is happening?" You asked worriedly.

"Oh Gods, they have ruined my boy, my beautiful boy." She sobbed sitting down on a chair, hands covering her face.

"Who and what have they done? Is Lucien okay?" You asked once again, kneeling before her shaking form.

"His brothers, they attacked Lucien on his way back from the training field. I am yet to seen him, all I was told is that the healer has been called and nobody is allowed in. I heard his screams, my boy was tearing the skies, his voice was full of so much pain." She said.

Your heart clenched at the thought of Lucien being attacked and injured. The situation in court wasn't the best but you never expected for it to go this bad. You could only hope that Lucien would be okay, that's all you cared about.

You and the youngest son of Autumn are about to be wed in less than a moon. Your father, one of Lord Beron's most trusted advisors, had long ago noticed your fondness of the red-haired Prince, and after a long discussion with the High Lord and his Council it was decided, you two were to be married. Lucien was happy, you were as well. After a long agonizing few hours of waiting in front of the door, the Lady of Autumn was finally allowed in. You couldn't hear much from the inside but one particular loud scream scared your soul away, making your heart beat even faster than it did before. What had they done to him?

Time passed before the wooden doors creaked open again. Slowly, her ladyship slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her back.

"Is he in a lot of pain? Will he be okay?" You asked with a worried expression.

"Listen, Y/N... what you're about to see... Nobody would blame you if you decide to annul the marriage proposal." She said making your heart stop, your face went completely pale.

"What... what are you talking about? I would never! I love Lucien I would never do such thing!" You exclaimed. You felt offended that anyone would ever think this way of you. Have your signs of affection not been enough.

"Listen, dear..." She started again but you couldn't listen to her any longer, you just wanted to see your fiancé.

Walking past her, you headed for the doors, pushing them open. You were met with complete darkness. The curtains were drawn, the door to the balcony was also closed. It felt more like a cave than a room.

"Who's there? Y/N?" A voice rasped from the darkness. You immediately recognized it as Lucien's.

You took a few steps closer to one of the windows, reaching for the blinds to pull them apart.

"No! Don't you dare!" Lucien hissed.

"Lucien, love, what happened?" You asked with concern, heading to his bed as you sat down on its edge. In the darkness, your hand managed to find his, giving it a light squeeze.

"I think you should leave, Y/N. I can't bear seeing the look on your face when you catch sight of what I've become." Lucien said, his voice raspy from all the screams he had let out not long ago.

"No... Lucien, I am not leaving, not now, not ever. Whatever happened, I am ready to endure it by your side. I am to be your wife, I will never leave you. Please, my love, let me see." You whispered. His desperation made you feel even worse, to think you'd leave him just like this.

You felt him move around in the bed. The only light in the room was coming from the opened door. Lucien slowly raised up his upper body, the lonely stream of light falling right on his face. What you saw made your eyes water like a waterfall, your hands went over your mouth while tears started falling down your cheeks.

His left eye was gone, the entire half of his face being covered in bandages that went all the way up into his hair down to his chin.

"I don't expect you to still want to give yourself to me." Lucien said, his hand never letting go of yours regardless of his words.

"Lucien, no, look at me," you said, when his head remained lowered you repeated your words, "look at me, Lucien!" You raised your voice.

Slowly his gaze met yours, his healthy eye was teary, ready to release its tears.

"I've loved you for so long, my love. Nothing could ever make me detest you, your looks are the least of my worries. You're the one I want to call my husband, the one whose children I want to carry and whose life I want to share. We will get through this together. I need you to speak to me, about everything, whatever you're feeling I want to know about it. That's the only way we could be able to handle every challenge fate throws at us." You said. Your free hand slowly laid on his cheek, feeling the coldness of his skin.

The two of you spent hours in his chambers, at one point he asked you to lay in bed with him. You nestled safely in his embrace, careful not to touch his face. The entire day was spent in bed, talking, you were even able to make him laugh twice, which made your heart flutter. A few kisses were exchanged as well, at the time night had fallen, Lucien was already asleep against your chest while you combed your hands through his beautiful white hair. He looked so peaceful when sleeping.

A quiet knock was heard, followed by the doors opening. The healer from earlier stood at the entrance of the room, a bag in his hand.

"It is time for me to change the Prince's bandages, my lady." The old man whispered.

You nodded slowly. With your hand on Lucien's back, you softly shook him awake, a quiet groan escaping from his mouth. He never liked being woken up.

"My love, it's time to clean your wounds. The healer is here, you must get up." You whispered against his forehead.

His body tensed when your words sank in. There was no way he could make you leave, you were going to see how damaged he was.

"It's okay, hey, I love you. I love you a lot." You said, cupping his cheek softly.

He nodded, slowly rising from the bed in a sitting position.

You followed the healer's every move, trying to memorize the process as much as possible so that whenever it was needed you could take care of your future husband as well.

It was nothing complicated, after a few tries you were confident in your skills and knowledge.

Lucien didn't complain, the opposite, he was actually glad that it was you who took over in taking care of him. He was always more comfortable in your presence and nothing could change that.

Years passed and your love for Lucien never disappeared, it became even stronger with each day. Drastic changes occured all around Prythian. Lucien was now the emissary of the Night Court, away from the wrath that used to rule his life. Beron was long dead, defeated by Eris after he tried to murder his mate as revenge.

Lucien still had his insecurities,but you spent every moment possible reminding him how much you loved him until every single ounce of doubt was gone from his mind.

You had recently given birth to your first child,a little girl who was the most precious angel ever. When Lucien held her for the first time you recognized the look on his face from that horrifying moment years ago. He was worried about his own daughter being repulsed by his appearance.

However, your little girl was all smiles and giggles. Whenever she was in her dad's arms she always wanted to look at his face, she was adorable and had him wrapped around her finger. You knew that your family would be fine,as long as there was love present.

If you're interested in more check HERE !

[prythianpages]

His Star | Eris Masterlist

Eris x Rhysand's Sister | Eris made the mistake of falling for you. Someone he could never have.

warnings: angst, some smut, no happy ending

angst= ♥️ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

a/n: This was supposed to be only a one shot but the more I listened to No Doubt/Gwen Stefani, the more I became inspired to make it a series and the one shot I originally planned will be the last part (:

playlist for this series (if you wanna get a feel for what's to come)

Also, big thank you to @daycourtofficial & @stormhearty because I'm pretty sure they've helped me plan some scenes/listened to me talk about this idea! Love y'all 🫶

★࿐࿔ Just A Girl

Summary: Your father throws a ball in your honor. When Beron belittles you, you decide to show him what you're capable of, catching the attention of his firstborn.

★࿐࿔ Starstruck

Summary: Eris finds out the truth of your powers and strikes a bargain with you.

★࿐࿔ Walking Into Spiderwebs

Summary: The heir to the Spring Court has his eyes on you but you have yours on the Autumn heir.

★࿐࿔ Got Me Missing You ☁︎

Summary: You can no longer hide your feelings for Eris.

*there are 9 more parts, for a total of 13 that are planned but I'll add them onto here as I upload.

series taglist: @emy1-9, @lady-of-tearshed, @5onedirection5, @sillysillygoose444, @acourtofbatboydreams

@babypeapoddd, @tenshis-cake, @freefallthoughts, @venussdovess, @unlikelywolfenemy

If you'd like be to be added to the tag-list for this series, comment a "❤️‍🔥" I'll be adding y'all here just to be more organized.