#eris x reader x Azriel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dumb-ster-fire · 18 days ago

Text

His Unholy Voice

Azriel x mate!reader

Summary: Cassian dares Azriel to call Y/N a “good girl,” and the River House descends into chaos.

a/n: Y/N has shadows and starlight powers because why not?🤭 This tid-bit of info will make sense as you read.

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

The late afternoon sun slanted lazily through the windows of the River House, bathing the living room in golden light. The air hummed with quiet conversation and the soft clinking of glasses, the occasional flutter of faelight drifting near the ceiling like drowsy stars. Velaris stretched peacefully outside the tall windows, but inside, the Inner Circle was gathered in their usual chaotic harmony.

Cassian was draped across one of the oversized couches like a lounging mountain, one foot on the coffee table, sipping from a glass of something amber. Nesta was curled beside him, her legs tucked under her as she read, pretending to ignore him—but everyone could see the slight curve to her lips at whatever nonsense he’d just said.

Rhys was stretched on another couch, Feyre leaning against his side as they shared a blanket, her sketchpad resting on her knees. She was absently doodling swirls of starlight and wings, her free hand curled around Rhysand’s fingers. Mor sat on the floor nearby, polishing her nails with a spell that shimmered gold and green with every flick of her hand. Elain, quiet but present, was perched in a window seat with a tray of tea, and Lucien lounged beside her, one arm slung lazily over the backrest as they chatted in low tones.

Amren reclined in a dark armchair, looking like a cat in the sun, sipping a goblet of something no one dared ask about, eyes half-lidded but sharp as ever.

Azriel sat in an armchair near the fireplace, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders like smoke. He had a book in his lap, unopened, because his attention kept flickering toward the open doorway leading to the kitchen.

That was where Y/N was.

They could hear her moving, her bare feet padding softly across the tile, cabinet doors opening and shutting, and an unmistakably muttered, “Where the fuck are the cheesy things?” drifting into the room.

Azriel’s lips quirked at that—barely—but the others noticed.

Cassian saw it first. And grinned like a predator spotting prey.

“Hey, Az,” Cassian said loudly, his voice a low drawl. “I dare you to call Y/N a good girl when she walks back in.”

The room went still for a beat.

Azriel’s shadows recoiled, like startled birds.

Feyre choked on her tea. Mor burst out laughing. Nesta looked up sharply, her brows lifting. Even Amren cracked one glowing eye open, clearly intrigued.

Elain blinked in quiet horror. Lucien looked like someone had lit a match under his chair.

Azriel didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe for a second.

“That’s low,” he muttered, but his voice betrayed the flicker of interest. Mischief.

Cassian leaned in, devilish. “Come on, brother. She melts when you say it. Like a dying star. She forgets her name. For science.”

“You’re an idiot,” Azriel replied, but he was already shifting, the barest smile tugging at his lips.

Cassian’s eyes glinted with glee. “For the record, I dare you.”

From the kitchen came the crinkling sound of a bag being triumphantly torn open. And a triumphant, “Aha!”

Y/N stepped into the doorway, holding a bag of some cheesy snack triumphantly, her hair catching the sunlight, shadows trailing behind her like a cloak, starlight dancing in her eyes.

And Azriel, cool as ever, looked up at her from his chair and said—soft and low, like a forbidden promise, the kind of voice that could make anyone forget the world—

“Good girl.”

Y/N froze.

The snack bag slipped slightly in her fingers.

The world—no, the entire house—held its breath.

Her pupils dilated. Her chest rose sharply with a breath. Knees buckled just a little. A flush crept up her cheeks, slow and deep. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Cassian exploded into laughter. “CAUGHT!”

Nesta threw a pillow at him.

Mor squealed. “She’s literally blushing! Az, do it again—do it again!”

Feyre nearly dropped her sketchpad as she laughed. Rhysand looked vaguely scandalized. Amren smirked over the rim of her goblet.

Azriel… was already on his feet, stalking toward Y/N like a shadow come to life, all dark promise and slow steps, his smirk lazy, knowing.

Y/N stood there like someone had unplugged her brain, cheesy snack bag clutched in one limp hand, completely undone by two words.

“Stars,” she muttered, barely audible. “That’s not fair.”

He stopped just in front of her, dipped his head until their mouths almost touched, and whispered once more, like a gift and a curse—

“Good girl.”

The snack bag hit the floor.

Chaos erupted in the living room behind them.

But Y/N only had eyes for Azriel, and he for her.

Cassian, somewhere behind them, crowed: “Best. Dare. Ever.”

Y/N didn’t stand a chance.

Not with that voice in her ear. Not when his hand slid around her waist with the barest pressure, fingers splaying possessively over her hip. Not when his shadows curled around her ankles and calves like warm silk, winding upward in slow, teasing spirals. Her knees gave a telltale wobble, and she might’ve leaned into him more than she meant to.

Azriel tilted his head, studying her with that impossibly focused gaze, the one that said he saw everything—every blush, every flicker of breath, every tremble she couldn’t quite hide.

“You dropped your snack,” he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek, but there was laughter in his tone now. Teasing. Dangerous.

Y/N’s voice was a whisper, scandalized and aroused and helpless all at once. “You’re evil.”

Cassian, from the couch: “Confirmed. Absolute menace. But we love him anyway.”

Rhys groaned into Feyre’s hair. “We need to start setting rules for these gatherings. Like no weaponized mating rituals in the living room.”

Mor was wiping tears from her eyes, still giggling. “Can’t believe how fast her soul left her body. Az, what did you do to her?”

“I said two words,” Azriel said innocently, though his hands hadn’t left Y/N’s waist.

“That you said them,” Feyre pointed out, grinning. “Big difference. If Cassian said it, she’d punch him.”

“True,” Y/N muttered, finding her voice again as she blinked up at her mate, trying to gather her strength. “You’re the only one allowed to say that.”

Azriel’s smirk deepened, pure male satisfaction.

“Say it again and I swear I will melt into the floor,” she whispered, half a warning, half a dare.

He leaned closer, and it was ridiculous—how even his breath on her skin made her insides twist.

But he didn’t say it again. No, instead he brushed a kiss just beneath her ear and murmured something else, something private, only for her—

And whatever he said made her clutch his shirt and mutter something in a language none of them understood. Her accent had thickened, her cheeks were flaming, and her shadows were writhing like they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Azriel just smiled.

Lucien raised a brow from his seat. “I think we just witnessed the mating equivalent of a death blow.”

Elain looked down into her teacup, face burning.

Cassian was howling with laughter. “She short-circuited! You broke her! Y/N, you good?”

Y/N slowly turned her head over Azriel’s shoulder and leveled Cassian with a look of pure venom—except her lips were twitching upward at the corners.

“I’m going to shove cheesy snacks into your mouth until you shut up.”

“Promising me snacks? That’s not the threat you think it is.”

Azriel sighed, then bent down and retrieved the snack bag from the floor, brushing it off before pressing it into her hands. “Here. For your trouble.”

She squinted at him. “If you say it again in that voice, I will not survive the night.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Azriel.”

But she was laughing now, flushed and glowing in that way she always got around him—like starlight blooming just beneath her skin. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and led her back toward the couch, one hand still at her waist, and she let him.

The others watched them settle onto the floor near the hearth, Y/N leaning into Azriel’s side with the snack bag in her lap, still looking vaguely dazed. Azriel passed her one of the cheesy crisps like she was the queen of Prythian and this was some sacred offering.

Cassian, watching them with exaggerated horror: “We just enabled something truly terrible.”

Nesta: “Good. Now shut up.”

And as laughter filled the room once again, Y/N whispered, only loud enough for Azriel to hear, “I like being your good girl.”

Azriel didn’t say a word.

But his shadows swirled with contentment, and his smile—slow and secret—could’ve set the whole house on fire.

Cassian leaned back against the couch like a smug, overgrown cat, swirling the remains of his drink in his glass. He was watching Y/N and Azriel with that all-too-familiar gleam in his hazel eyes—the one that usually meant trouble was brewing.

Y/N was still nestled beside Azriel near the hearth, curled into his side, her legs tucked beneath her, munching on a cheesy crisp like it was the last edible thing in Prythian. Her cheeks were finally losing some of their deep blush, her breathing mostly even again.

Cassian clearly decided that peace had lasted too long.

With a slow, sly grin, he said to the room—loudly enough that everyone could hear, especially the couple in question—

“Now I’m just curious what her reaction would be if Az said, ‘on your knees.’”

Silence.

Actual, stunned silence.

Rhys choked on air.

Feyre gasped, her eyes wide as dinner plates.

Mor made a noise that was half-squeal, half-scream. “CASSIAN!”

Elain made a soft, scandalized squeak and buried her face in her hands. Lucien immediately reached for his drink, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Nesta didn’t look up from her book, but her lips twitched as if she were biting back a laugh. “Gods, you’re such a shit-stirrer.”

Azriel didn’t even blink.

Y/N?

Y/N went completely still.

The kind of still that said every system in her body had shut down and restarted in a blaze of chaotic what the fuck.

Her hand froze halfway to her mouth, cheesy crisp inches from her lips. Her pupils dilated so fast it was like someone flipped a switch. She made a small, choked sound and looked at Azriel like he’d somehow already said it.

And Azriel… gods-damned Azriel…

The corner of his mouth lifted. Just slightly. Slowly. Like he was very aware of her reaction—and storing it for later use.

He said nothing.

But his shadows purred.

Y/N slowly turned her head toward Cassian, blinking like someone had just slapped her with a lightning bolt.

“Do you want to die?” she asked sweetly.

Cassian threw his head back and cackled. “Stars, it’s even worse than I thought! You didn’t even say it and she nearly melted into the floor!”

“Cass,” Azriel said, voice low and dangerous—not angry, but possessive, like a quiet warning growl. “Keep talking, and I’ll give her that command right here.”

Y/N made another helpless noise, turning red from her collarbones up.

Mor was dying, absolutely shrieking. “I can’t! I can’t—Az, if you say it I swear I’ll combust!”

Rhys, rubbing his temples like a father who’s lost control of his children: “Someone—anyone—please stop this. Elain looks like she might faint.”

Lucien reached over and gently moved Elain’s teacup away from her lap before something catastrophic could happen.

Meanwhile, Y/N was clutching Azriel’s shirt now, her head buried against his shoulder like she could hide from the conversation—but her body betrayed her. The way her legs shifted, the arch in her back, the way her shadows curled tight around her thighs—

Azriel bent his head close, and whispered something only she could hear. Her gasp was audible.

Cassian, watching the whole thing unfold like a delighted villain, grinned ear to ear. “Yup. That’s going in the record book.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You have a record book?”

He waggled his brows. “I do now.”

Y/N finally peeked up from Azriel’s shoulder, her voice hoarse but steady. “I hope you know that when I recover from this, I’m kicking your ass.”

Cassian smirked. “Fair. But worth it.”

Azriel ran his hand slowly down her spine, a look of dark promise in his eyes.

And he murmured—not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but enough to make her shiver—

��Later.”

Y/N didn’t make a sound.

She just melted. Again.

And Cassian lost his mind.

“YOU GUYS! YOU’RE GONNA KILL HER! STOP!”

Azriel just smiled. And this time… even Rhys looked a little afraid.

But, of course, he was not done.

Because Azriel never let go of an advantage once he had it—and right now, Y/N was flushed, breathless, barely hanging on to the frayed remains of her composure. Cassian’s comment had been the match, but Azriel? Azriel was the flame.

The Shadowsinger reached lazily into the snack bag still resting in Y/N’s lap, pulled out one of the crisps—one of those curled, golden cheesy ones—and held it between his fingers.

Completely casual. Like he hadn’t just whispered promises into her ear. Like he wasn’t still the reason her entire nervous system was currently short-circuiting.

Then, ever so innocently, he turned to her and murmured—

“Open your mouth for me.”

The room went dead silent.

Again.

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Mor screamed.

Cassian made a wheezing sound and nearly fell off the couch.

Lucien covered his face with his hands and muttered something like, “Oh, for the love of—”

Even Amren, lounging in a chair like some ancient, unimpressed cat, raised a single dark brow.

Y/N?

Y/N made a sound that could only be described as a high-pitched whimper.

Her spine straightened like she’d just been electrocuted, and her hands flew up as if she didn’t know whether to push him away or drag him closer. Her mouth opened—and then promptly snapped shut again, eyes wide in horror at her own reaction.

Azriel blinked at her, all innocence. “What? It’s a snack.”

Liar.

Y/N was staring at the chip like it was the One Ring and she was about to fall to her doom.

“Y-you…” she tried. “You know what you’re doing.”

Azriel tilted his head. “I’m feeding you.”

Cassian, clutching his stomach, howled. “Oh my gods, she doesn’t know whether to eat it or beg.”

Nesta muttered, “I swear if he keeps this up, she’s going to ascend to another plane.”

Mor flung a pillow at Azriel. “Stop corrupting her!”

“Too late,” Y/N whispered, eyes still locked on her mate.

She was vibrating. Her shadows were wrapped tight around her legs again, her starlight flickering faintly along her fingers like her powers couldn’t figure out how to help her.

Azriel leaned in, his voice velvet and low, and added with that damn smirk—

“Be a good girl and open up.”

Y/N made a strangled sound and obeyed before she could think. Mouth open, eyes dazed, spine arching slightly like every cell in her body had been commanded.

He placed the chip on her tongue with gentle, devastating precision.

She didn’t even taste it.

Cassian died.

Dropped off the couch entirely.

Nesta didn’t bother catching him.

Rhys buried his face in Feyre’s lap and moaned. “Make it stop, please, make it stop—”

Elain looked like she was experiencing a crisis. Lucien had gone utterly still beside her, wide-eyed. Mor was wheezing through her laughter.

Y/N, eyes fluttering closed around the cheesy crisp, finally swallowed, then slumped back against Azriel’s shoulder, absolutely done.

“I hate you,” she mumbled.

Azriel just brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, utterly unrepentant.

“No, you don’t.”

And stars help her—

He was right.

Azriel, the insufferable, beautiful bastard, glanced down at his fingers—now dusted with that unmistakable cheesy orange powder from the crisp he’d just fed her. He inspected them with a faint smirk, clearly considering his next move.

Y/N, still recovering, was half-sprawled against his side, her mind mush, her pride in shambles. Her heart was racing, her skin still flushed. One little command and she’d folded like wet parchment.

So, of course, of course he wasn’t done.

Without a word, he lifted his hand—the one with the cheesy dust—and held two fingers in front of her lips, tilting them slightly in offering.

And then, in that dark, low murmur that somehow sounded like a kiss laced with sin—

“Clean my fingers for me, sweetheart.”

Cassian let out an actual scream. Mor shrieked with laughter and nearly fell off the couch.

Feyre smacked Rhys on the arm to stop his uncontrollable snorting. Elain made a noise that may have been a gasp—or a gasped prayer. Lucien had gone completely still again, one eye twitching.

Nesta was watching now, intrigued. “I want to see if she combusts.”

Y/N stared at Azriel’s fingers like they were the gates to Hel. Her lips parted—reflex—and then she slapped a hand over her own mouth.

“Azriel!” she squeaked behind her fingers, eyes wide with shock, heat flooding her cheeks again. “You can’t just—in front of everyone—”

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just kept his hand out, that smug little tilt to his mouth.

“I’m just asking for help,” he said, utterly innocent. “You made me touch those chips. Now I’m all messy.”

Cassian, choking on laughter: “This is torture. I didn’t know watching someone descend into horny chaos could be this entertaining.”

Mor couldn’t breathe. “She’s gonna spontaneously ascend. Like full fae goddess mode, just out of sheer flustered thirst.”

Y/N, trembling with internal conflict, very slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. Her eyes were locked on Azriel’s, pupils dilated, lips parted, and her voice came out as a whisper:

“…You’re going to pay for this.”

Azriel’s voice dropped even lower. “Gladly.”

And gods help her—

She leaned forward.

Just the barest brush of her tongue over his fingertips, her eyes fluttering shut like she hated herself for it—and also maybe wanted to crawl into his lap and never leave again.

The moment her tongue touched his skin, his shadows shuddered.

Azriel inhaled through his nose like he’d just been handed every fantasy he’d never dared admit aloud.

Cassian actually collapsed, face-down on the floor, sob-laughing.

Rhys sat up and pointed a warning finger. “No one is allowed to say another word for the rest of the evening.”

Mor was crying. “It’s too late! They’ve corrupted this space forever!”

Y/N leaned back again, cheeks aflame, and buried her face in Azriel’s shoulder with a muffled groan.

“You’re evil,” she muttered.

Azriel wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head, his voice velvet and pure satisfaction.

“You love it.”

Cassian was still on the floor, pounding the hardwood with his fist like this was the greatest entertainment Velaris had ever known. “I take it back—this is better than sparring. Someone bring popcorn. No—cheesy crisps. Give me the cheesy crisps. I want to see what happens if I hold out my fingers.”

Azriel didn’t even look at him. “Try it and lose them.”

Y/N was vibrating in place, her face buried in Azriel’s neck, clearly trying to become one with his shadows to escape the utter humiliation and arousal that had consumed her.

Feyre had thrown a pillow at Rhys. “You’re the High Lord, do something!”

Rhys looked entirely too amused for someone supposedly in control. “This is divine punishment. For all of us.”

Lucien muttered, “I feel like I’m intruding on some very private mating ritual.”

Elain was pink, sipping her tea with trembling hands, her eyes so wide they looked like they’d never close again.

Amren hadn’t moved. “Honestly, I want to see how far this goes. My money’s on Y/N throwing Azriel through the wall before the hour’s done.”

Nesta, still cool and unreadable, just said, “I’ll help patch the wall when it happens.”

Azriel turned to Y/N, still cradling her like she was precious—and absolutely wrecked.

He tilted her chin up just enough to see her eyes, voice low and wicked.

“Still hungry, love?”

Y/N blinked up at him, her voice a whisper. “You are cruel.”

Cassian, from the floor: “He is! Isn’t it amazing? It’s like watching a temple girl be corrupted by the darkest male in existence—”

He paused. “Wait. That’s kinda what’s happening.”

Mor was crying again. “Y/N’s going to explode, and I’m not missing it.”

Y/N—desperate for payback—finally pushed herself upright. Her shadows flickered, starlight trailing her fingertips as she glared at Cassian.

“Oh, you think you’re safe?” she said, voice still breathy but gaining strength. “You want chaos? Fine.”

She pointed a single glowing finger at him. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I will say something to Nesta that will leave you begging.”

Cassian’s smugness vanished instantly.

His head snapped toward Nesta. “She’s bluffing.”

Nesta looked up slowly, like a lioness stirring in the sun. “She’s not.”

Cassian’s eyes went wide. “Y/N. Y/N. We’re friends. Friends.”

Y/N, voice sweet and laced with vengeance: “Then be quiet, General.”

Everyone howled.

Cassian threw a pillow at her. She caught it mid-air, shadows snatching it and gently setting it down beside her.

Azriel was beaming. Actually smiling, proud and delighted.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured in her ear.

Y/N melted. Again. “Gods-dammit—Azriel—!”

“Language,” he whispered, far too amused.

Feyre buried her face in her hands. “We’re never having a normal night again.”

Rhys sighed dramatically. “There’s no such thing as ‘normal’ when your brother’s sex voice ruins the entire living room.”

Azriel looked entirely unbothered. “Not my fault she’s obedient.”

Y/N shrieked.

Lucien spit out his wine.

Cassian groaned. “I will never get that image out of my mind.”

Amren sipped her bloodwine and muttered, “Good. Maybe next time you’ll think before daring the Shadowsinger to speak.”

Y/N launched a pillow at Azriel’s face.

He caught it one-handed, grinning. “You missed.”

Her voice came out in a growl, low and breathy.

“I never miss.”

Everyone froze.

Cassian: “Oh, she’s fighting back now.”

Nesta closed her book. “Let her.”

Azriel leaned in again, a challenge in his eyes, his voice practically dripping shadow and seduction.

“Then prove it, little star.”

And just like that—

That was it.

Y/N snapped.

With a strangled sound—something between a shriek and a gasp of pure exasperated sexual frustration—she launched herself fully into Azriel’s lap.

Azriel barely had time to blink before—

WHUMP.

A pillow hit him square in the face.

Then again.

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

“Y/N—” he choked, trying to grab her wrists. “Y/N—”

She straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs, hair wild and falling into her face, eyes blazing, and just kept hitting him with the pillow.

“You. Smug. Bastard. That. Voice. Is. A. Warcrime!”

WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.

Azriel’s shadows scattered in shock, clearly not sure whether to defend him or help Y/N.

Cassian was on his back on the floor, kicking his legs in hysterical laughter. “She snapped, I told you! She SNAPPED!”

Nesta smirked, folding her arms. “I like her more every day.”

Feyre was howling now, clinging to Rhys who looked like he’d aged ten years in the last five minutes. “I don’t even know who I’m rooting for anymore!”

Lucien murmured to Elain, “Should we look away?”

Elain: “I want to…but I can’t.”

Mor had completely lost it, tears running down her cheeks. “This is the best night of my life. I’m going to commission Feyre to paint this.”

Azriel had given up trying to stop her. He just sat there, letting her rain down justice, biting back laughter—though his shadows were trembling, and his smile was only growing wider the more she attacked.

“Mercy,” he said finally, shielding his face with one hand, catching the pillow with the other. “I surrender.”

“You do not!” Y/N shouted, WHACKING him again. “You think you can just ruin my brain in front of everyone and get away with it?!”

“Technically, you climbed into my lap,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

WHACK.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

WHACK.

“You’re not allowed to be hot and smug at the same time!”

Azriel caught the pillow again and suddenly flipped them, faster than anyone could react. Y/N gasped as her back hit the cushions beneath him, the pillow pinned between them, his body covering hers. Shadows coiled around them like a barrier, separating them from the howling laughter around the room.

He leaned close, nose brushing hers.

His voice, damn him, dropped again—

“You like me best like this.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers fisted in the front of his shirt.

Cassian yelled from the floor, “STOP! I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE EXPOSED TO THIS MUCH TENSION!”

Amren stood and dusted off her pants. “Alright. That’s enough. If they start dry-humping on this couch, I’m burning the place down.”

Azriel looked at her without moving. “We’d at least move to the guest room.”

WHACK. The pillow hit him one more time.

Y/N, face flushed and breathless, just stared up at him and muttered:

“…You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Azriel’s grin was all teeth and shadows.

“We both know that’s a lie.”

And every single person in that living room just lost it.

Y/N made a noise—a sound that wasn’t even a word, more like the wail of someone at the very edge of sanity and desire. A feral, strangled growl of pure exasperated chaos.

Then—

Her hands flew up.

And she wrapped them around Azriel’s throat.

Not tight—just enough to shake him.

Azriel let it happen.

His head bobbed slightly as she rattled him like a goblet of wine she was about to shatter. “I hate you!” she half-snarled, half-whimpered, glaring into his stupidly beautiful, smug, night-kissed face.

Azriel didn’t fight back. Just sat there on top of her with that infuriating little smirk tugging at his lips, shadows dancing gleefully behind him like they lived for this exact brand of foreplay.

“You are insufferable,” she hissed, still shaking him, face flushed, heart pounding.

Azriel blinked at her, calm as ever, and asked in the softest, silkiest voice:

“Harder?”

Cassian screamed. “I’M GOING TO ASCEND. AZRIEL’S KINKY. I CALLED IT. I KNEW IT.”

Feyre launched a pillow at him. Rhys tackled him with another.

Lucien actually choked on air and wheezed, “Is this what mating bonds are supposed to be like? Is this…normal?!”

Mor fell off the couch this time, full-on cackling.

Elain had gone completely still, blinking very slowly like her brain was buffering.

Nesta looked like she’d just been handed her favorite wine and a front-row seat to the greatest soap opera in Prythian. “I’m learning things I can never unlearn.”

Y/N released his throat with a groan of utter despair and let her arms flop back down against the cushions.

Azriel, absolutely pleased with himself, leaned down again until his nose brushed hers, shadows still coiling like smug little bastards.

“Finished?” he asked, voice all dark silk.

Y/N stared up at him with narrowed eyes and a trembling lip.

“…No,” she said.

Then she pulled him down by the collar and bit his jaw.

Azriel groaned, low and sharp, the kind that made everyone in the room turn to stone.

Cassian’s voice, faint: “I don’t know if I’m scared or impressed or—actually, no, I’m just scared.”

Rhys looked like he wanted to bury himself in the floor. “Mother above. Take me now.”

Amren drained her glass and muttered, “I told you. We should’ve just let her kill him that day.”

Mor was wheezing, pointing at Azriel. “He’s not even pretending to be cool anymore!”

Azriel, who was now half-lost in Y/N’s hair, let out a satisfied sigh against her ear.

“Still sleeping on the couch?” he murmured.

Y/N’s voice came out breathless, dangerous.

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you to the Illyrian mountains.”

Azriel nuzzled her. “You’d miss me by sundown.”

And Y/N—poor, flustered, still-fuming Y/N—just groaned again and muttered:

“Mother help me, I would.”

The entire Inner Circle groaned in unison.

Cassian had dragged a blanket off the couch and was now dramatically wrapping himself in it, rocking back and forth on the floor like a war survivor. “They’re saying the cutest filth to each other. I can’t live like this. I can’t go on. I need therapy. I need a temple. I need to bathe in salt.”

Nesta kicked him lightly. “You’re the one who started this.”

“I didn’t know it would become a religious experience!” he shot back, clutching the blanket tighter. “He whispered ‘harder’ while being choked—I can never look him in the eyes again.”

Feyre had officially surrendered, head in Rhys’s lap as she weakly muttered, “This is our house. Our house. We have a child. A toddler. We had dinner here an hour ago.”

Rhys was staring blankly at the ceiling. “We should burn the furniture.”

Azriel had not moved.

Still straddling Y/N, his chest rising and falling a bit faster now, jaw still tingling from where she’d bitten him. His shadows rolled lazily over her hips, slipping under the hem of her shirt like they knew no shame, brushing her skin like they were claiming her all over again.

Y/N glared up at him, cheeks burning, breath coming fast.

“I will get revenge for this,” she hissed. “This humiliation. This entire performance.”

Azriel only smiled, infuriatingly calm. “Then I look forward to it.”

WHUMP.

She hit him in the chest with the pillow again.

WHUMP.

He caught it and held it there, pinning her hands beneath his, voice low.

“Or you could surrender now. I’ll go easy on you… maybe.”

Her eyes blazed.

“You want surrender?” she whispered.

And then—in front of everyone—she arched up and bit his collarbone.

Azriel made a sound that could only be described as a choked growl, his wings flaring just a bit, shadows suddenly swirling like a storm.

Mor shrieked. “OH MY GODS.”

Cassian threw the blanket over his entire head. “I’M DEAD. BURY ME WITH HONOR.”

Lucien stood up and announced, “I’m going to go walk into the Sidra and never come back.”

Elain, softly: “I didn’t even know Fae could blush that much.”

Amren just stood, hands on her hips, and said, “Someone bring the child. Let him see what he must never become.”

Azriel looked like he was this close to losing every last shred of composure. His fingers curled around Y/N’s hips, grip possessive, eyes glowing faintly gold in the low light.

Y/N’s voice was a purr now, dangerous and smug. “Still think I’m the one surrendering?”

Azriel blinked down at her—and then, in the most unbothered voice possible, purred back:

“I’m letting you win.”

Y/N howled in rage and launched the pillow at his head again.

Mor collapsed in screaming laughter.

Cassian rolled onto his side and yelled into the floor:

“WHEN THEY GET MARRIED WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE.”

Nesta, dry as bone, replied, “Good. Maybe then we’ll have peace.”

And Feyre just reached for the wine bottle with one trembling hand.

“…I need three glasses just to forget tonight even happened.”

Azriel was laughing now—an actual full-on laugh, rare and wicked and infuriatingly attractive, his head tilted back slightly as Y/N shoved at his chest again, huffing like a dragon about to breathe literal star fire.

“You’re not letting me win,” she snapped, trying to sit up—only for him to lean down again and trap her with his body, his smirk infuriatingly close.

“Oh, but I am,” he purred, his voice brushing over her skin like velvet wrapped in shadows. “Letting you think you have the upper hand… while I enjoy the view.”

Y/N’s eyes blazed. “You are unbelievable.”

“And yet…” Azriel hummed, brushing his nose lightly along her jaw, just enough to make her entire soul glitch, “you’re still under me.”

There was a pause.

And then—Y/N’s voice went low and dangerous, her accent cutting through like a blade of silk.

“Fine.”

She grinned slowly.

“Let me show you what I do to people who underestimate me.”

Everyone in the room simultaneously—

“OH MY GODS.”

Cassian, muffled under his blanket: “SHE’S GONNA DOM HIM I KNEW IT—”

Feyre was openly drinking from the wine bottle now. “Rhys, portal me to Hewn City. I’d rather deal with Keir.”

Rhys, wide-eyed, whispered, “They’re worse than us.”

Mor was gone, rolling off the couch, clutching her ribs. “I can’t. I can’t—this is the best mating bond I’ve ever witnessed—how are they not combusting?!”

Nesta gave a sharp nod. “I give them ten minutes before they disappear upstairs.”

“Five,” Amren said flatly. “Three if he says anything else in that voice.”

Lucien had left the room. Vanished. There was no trace of him. Smart man.

Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter around Y/N’s waist, amused and pleased, while she leaned up again and whispered something in his ear—inaudible to the others, but it made his breath hitch, his hands tighten around her hips, his wings flex like he was very suddenly and urgently remembering he had a mate, and that she was his.

Cassian peeked out from under his blanket. “Did she just—did she say something or—did his soul just exit his body?”

Azriel was still for a heartbeat. Two.

Then he stood.

Effortlessly. With Y/N still in his arms.

She let out a very pleased, smug hum, arms twining around his neck, chin perched on his shoulder.

“Don’t wait up,” she said sweetly over his shoulder.

Cassian dramatically fell back onto the rug. “THEY’RE LEAVING. THEY’RE DOING THE THING. ABANDON SHIP.”

Rhys, cradling a glass of wine now, muttered, “I am the High Lord. I should be able to kick people out of my house.”

“Should being the key word,” Feyre muttered, pouring herself another glass and handing one to Nesta.

Amren raised her empty glass. “May the walls stay standing.”

“Unlikely,” Mor replied, still giggling. “But we’ll have fun guessing what breaks first.”

And with that, Azriel and Y/N disappeared up the stairs, shadows curling behind them like curtains closing on a performance that had left the audience in awe, horror, and unholy amounts of secondhand arousal.

959 notes · View notes

parkerslatte · 5 months ago

Text

The Purest Kind of Love

Azriel x Fem!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Warnings: smut. mentions of abuse. mentions of torture. blood and injury. mentions of childbirth. inner circle being assholes. near death experience. [more warning will be given as story progresses]

Summary: Four years ago, Azriel and Y/N made a bargain. They would form a relationship until either of them find their mates, once that happens, their relationship would end. No tears. No arguments. That was how it would be. However once the four years pass, both Azriel and Y/N realise how they have settled down in the life they had built together.

At the celebration of the new Autumn High Lord, everything Y/N and Azriel had built comes crashing down as a mating bond snaps between Y/N and Eris. Staying true to the bargain, the relationship between Y/N and Azriel ends.

Though as Y/N and Eris get closer, through some kind of divine intervention, Azriel always seems to be around with the mated couple. Feeling arise and truths come to light the longer they all spend around each other. However, not everyone is approving of the budding relationship. Truths come to light and some may not be so positive.

Current Word Count: 18,530

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

TAGLIST CLOSED

•••

Contents:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Epilogue

A/N: Welcome to my new series I have coming out! Everything is planned and is a little bit longer than I originally intended though I cannot wait to share it with everyone!

#acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra fluff #high lord eris #eris vanserra x you #eris acotar #eris x reader #azriel fic #azriel x eris #azriel x reader x eris

1K notes · View notes

clunaes · 1 year ago

Text

my taste in fictional men is so different from real life men fictional men can get away with murder while real life men can't even get away with breathing

#kaz brekker x reader #eris vanserra x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #azriel x reader #aaron warner x reader #jacks of the hollow

3K notes · View notes

prythianpages · 15 days ago

Text

Protect Me From What I Want | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader ft Azriel | After finding out you're carrying his child, Eris makes a sudden & unexpected visit to Day Court.

a/n: This is pt.7 to my recent Eris series, approx 4K.

warnings: angst (your turn breaking eris's heart), reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope

Eris did his best to focus.

Someone was speaking. Arguing, most likely. Their voices barely registered in his ears. He was nearly glad Azriel had lunged at him earlier. At least it gave him an excuse for the erratic and uneven rhythm of his pulse.

He didn’t flinch when Feyre’s fire magic accidentally seared through his sleeve and marked his skin. He said his piece when he needed to, managed to string together words that sounded intelligent, diplomatic even.

But there was a war playing out on his face, different to the current war with Hybern and far more personal.

She carries a child.

The words were a hammer against his ribs.

A child you’ll never meet.

They echoed. Louder each time.

She carries a child.

A child, a child, a child…

His mouth tasted like ash and his lungs felt tight. His body was here but his mind was not. It had fled to you the moment he heard those words. The female he had condemned to heartbreak. The female who now bore his child.

He snuck a glance at Azriel, finding reserved emotions on his face. His shadows were the only expressive thing about him as they fluttered about. Azriel met his gaze, a silent storm still raging in the shadowsinger’s eyes. The tension between the two was sharp, the two of them sharing a mutual thought. You.

Neither of them moved until Feyre placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. She steered his attention toward a conversation with her and Rhysand, sneaking a wary look at Eris herself. The moment Azriel looked away, Eris didn’t hesitate. He seized the sliver of opportunity, ignoring the stares from his father and brothers that were burning into his back.

With a sharp breath, he winnowed and headed straight for Day Court.

This was pure desperation.

There was no strategy, no carefully laid plan...and Eris Vanserra never moved without a plan.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be heading back to Autumn, facing the fallout of the meeting, weathering his father’s fury. He was sure there would be consequences to pay for Azriel’s attack as Beron would see it as humiliating.

You’d be returning to Autumn soon anyway, given the recall of the emissaries. Had the soldiers he dispatched to escort you and your brother back already arrived here? Should he have found them first, disguised himself among them?

Time was slipping. He wasn’t sure if Helion would return tonight or worse, if Azriel would somehow get to you first. Eris needed to see you now, to confirm the truth for himself.

Helion’s palace was just as grand and ostentatious as the male himself. Gleaming marble floors, sweeping archways, gold glittering into every surface. It was open, and despite it being night, it was painfully bright. Fae lights sparkled along every corridor, making it difficult to blend in and hide. He had been here a couple of times before, which gave him some advantage. At least he knew where Helion typically housed his guests.

He slipped past another archway and that’s when the scent caught him. He’d always been fine tuned to your scent. He followed it with a pounding heart, hope and fear tangling in his throat.

The trail led him to a door. This had to be your room. Your scent clung to the air, heavier than before. He stood there for a moment, hand raised, suddenly unsure. Were you inside? If he knocked, would you even answer, especially if you knew it was him on the other side? He wouldn’t blame you if you locked him out.

Still, he needed to see you. So taking a deep breath, his hand reached for the door and he decided to open it without knocking.

You weren’t inside.

The breath he’d been holding for hours released in a hiss. His eyes swept the space, and panic clawed up his throat. What if you weren’t in Day Court anymore? What if Azriel had already taken you? No. That wasn’t possible. Azriel had been preoccupied with Feyre and Rhysand. And your brother—surely even he wouldn’t be foolish enough to let you travel back to Autumn unguarded, not in the middle of a war.

Eris decided to wait, even though his anxiety was gnawing at him like a restless beast. Perhaps you’d gone for an evening walk or were finishing supper. You’d have to return eventually. You lived here now, after all.

With more calm, he looked around the room, curious about the place you’ve been living in for the past weeks. Besides your scent, there was little about you in here. It was so different from your room back in Autumn, which was filled with knick knacks, tapestries and books.

He walked toward the bed, not surprised to find it neatly made. The scent on the sheets reached him and he inhaled deeply. He’d always found your scent sweet and soft and extremely soothing. There was something else woven into it now. A note he couldn’t quite place. It struck something deep in his chest. Had your scent already begun to change…?

He walked to the vanity beside your bed next. His fingers brushed against the silk night robe draped over the chair. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping. Cauldron, he shouldn’t even be here. But his restraint was unraveling fast, tugged loose by weeks of distance and guilt.

A flash of emerald green caught his eye—your jewelry box. You always had a love for pretty, shiny things. Gems had been your armor against the darkness of courtly life. Or at least that’s what you’d say with a grin every time you showed up with a new piece of jewelry. He had gifted you some pieces himself but his favorite on you was one of his rings. You often played with the golden band while holding his hand, twisting it around his finger until, one day, he slipped it off and slid it onto your thumb—the only finger it wouldn’t slip right off. He let you keep it. It looked better on you, anyway. He wondered if you still had it.

He opened the jewelry box…only to find it empty.

No rings, no necklaces, no earrings. Strange. Just some bundles of herbs and–his heart stopped. He recognized the tiny vials of elixirs, having supplied them for his mother during her pregnancies. His hand trembled as he reached for one of the bottles, reading the label, and the confirmation pierced into his chest like a blade.

There was no room for denial now. You were pregnant. With his child.

Before he could spiral too far, folded parchment caught his eye, tucked nearly beneath the vials. He reached for one of them, finding the shadowsinger’s signature glaring at him from the bottom of the page.

The paper crumpled in his fist, flames licking up the corners. He tried to smother the rage, but it sizzled in his blood. How long has he known? And why–why was it Azriel comforting when it should’ve been him?

His magic flared, barely reined in as he tossed the smoldering letter aside and reached for the other letter. The parchment was not as creased as the first and when he unfolded it, he recognized it to be your handwriting. His eyebrows furrowed, skimming over the top. It was addressed to your brother.

Dear Varek,

If you are reading this, this means I am no longer here in Day and perhaps, you’re looking for me…

His stomach dropped. You were planning to leave, to run away. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the chair beside the vanity, Azriel’s earlier blow still throbbing in his ribs. That ache was nothing compared to the one swelling inside his chest. Where were you planning to run to? And with who? With Azriel? The only consolation was that the letter was not finished, meaning you definitely were still here.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door had Eris abruptly sitting up. He folded the parchment back up, placing it back into your jewelry box and snapping it closed. He didn’t bother with the letter he found from Azriel. It was already reduced to the smallest pile of ashes on the floor.

He heard your voice, bidding someone goodnight. Most likely your brother. He didn’t know why–maybe, it was a habit– but he spared a glance at the mirror. What he saw made him wince. Disheveled hair, bruised skin. He looked terrible.

The door began to open and he began to panic as he was reminded he had no plan. What would he even say to you? Would the words “I’m sorry” ever be enough?

The door clicked behind you and the world stilled.

He turned.

You stood, only a few feet away, frozen. Your eyes locked on his, widening with disbelief and panic. Though the sun shined brightest in this court, you looked so pale and so tired. You looked fragile in a way that twisted his insides.

He had dreaded the idea of you moving on, of finding peace in someone else. But this? This was worse. You hadn’t moved on like he thought you had. Or was it the pregnancy weighing heavy on you? Either way, it was all his fault. He did this to you.

“Y/n—” he rose, moving toward you without thought.

But you flinched.

You flinched from him.

The step you took back felt like a thousand arrows to his back. You maintained as much distance as you could, pressed yourself into the wall as if it were the only thing keeping you from collapsing. He froze mid-step, his hands lowering.

His gaze then dropped instinctively to your middle.

The dress you were wearing flowed loosely over your frame. If there was a bump, it was easily hidden beneath the fabric. You wrapped your arms around yourself anyway, around your stomach, like a shield. As if to protect the baby from him.

And it broke him.

A ragged breath tore from his lungs as he met your gaze again. You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to. The way he looked at you. The way you held yourself. There was no denying it now. You knew he knew.

“Y/n—”

“No.” You shook your head, eyes shining. He knew you so well that he could see the war within you. The love that hadn’t quite died but also the pain that was beginning to take its place.

His own eyes burned, the emotion swelling too big for his chest. He tried again, one more step.

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t come closer.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said but stopped, palms raised.

Eris was here.

And you forgot how to breathe.

The same flame-colored hair, the same broad frame… but he looked different. Paler. Worn. His usually pristine coat hung unevenly on his shoulders, the right sleeve singed and torn as if he had walked through hell to get here.

And maybe he had.

You had thought about this moment for days, for weeks. Dreamed of it even in the quiet hours of the night, clutching your pillow as if it were him. The moment Eris would come running back to you, eyes full of regret, voice trembling as he begged you to come back with him. If he had come sooner, when your heart still ached with fresh longing, perhaps you might’ve said yes without hesitation.

But now, all you felt was sick, the dinner you just finished threatening to rise back up. Your mind felt dizzy, torn by both relief and something akin to dread. Too much time had passed. Too many nights spent grieving a version of him that no longer existed. Too many mornings convincing yourself you were better off without him.

Your gaze remained locked, lips parted but useless, caught in the conflicting chaos of your own mind. You caught the exact moment his gaze dropped to your midsection, his amber eyes clouded with many emotions. Wonder, guilt and regret. So much regret.

He knew. You didn’t know how, didn’t know when or who–the only person you had told was Azriel…but he couldn’t have told him? Or could he? While you hadn’t explicitly asked him to keep it a secret, you thought he understood the weight of it.

Oh, it didn’t matter.

Because now Eris knew.

And gods, the way he was looking at you…

Your arms folded tightly around yourself instinctively. Not to hide the baby, but to protect it. From him. From the pain, from the man who once said you were a mistake. A part of you was scared to hear what he had to say. The baby may have come unexpectedly but you refused to see it as something to regret.

Eris didn’t come any closer, respecting your wishes. “I just needed to see you,” he said quietly, voice fraying at the edges.

Your heart stuttered. Mother above, how many nights had you dreamt of hearing his voice again? And how many more had you begged the Cauldron to silence it from your mind forever so it would no longer haunt you?

“For what?” you managed, blinking rapidly to keep your tears from falling. You would not let him see how ruined you were. Drawing in a trembling breath, you summoned whatever strength remained, and lifted your chin. “So you could laugh at me again?”

He drew back like you’d struck him and your gaze drifted to his neck, catching sight of bruises littering his neck. They looked painful. Was he hurt? Who had done that to him? Your fingers twitched at your side, instinctively wanting to reach out. You pulled them into fists instead.

No, you stopped yourself. Don’t do that.

“I wouldn’t…” Eris said, his voice hoarse as he struggled with himself. You’d never seen him at a loss for words. “I wouldn’t have laughed. I–you left Autumn so suddenly, with…” His gaze dropped again to your stomach. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Now you care?” You hissed at him, the heartbreak in your chest morphing into anger. “You tossed me aside like I was nothing. Told me we were nothing. And now you show up—bruised and broken like that’s supposed to mean something. Did someone finally knock the arrogance out of you?”

Your chest heaved with the fury you had tried so hard to bury. And then something inside you snapped, something deep beneath your ribcage. You didn’t know what it was, but suddenly, a flood of emotions surged through you, stirring your own. You felt so overwhelmed that you faltered back, your lips trembling.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you said, steadying yourself even as the world threatened to tilt. “You’re too late. You don’t get to care now.”

A tear spilled down your cheek that Eris so desperately wanted to wipe away for you. You wiped it away yourself, roughly, and the glare you sent his way was devastating. Yet he deserved it and much more, if he was being honest.

“Yes–yes, I do. That is my baby too,” Eris replied, voice bordering on pleading. He didn’t even know where to begin. There were so many tangled threads, so many reasons why he did what he did. "Listen, Y/n, I am so sorry. There’s so much you don’t know—things I didn’t know how to tell you—"

The door slammed open.

Both your heads snapped toward the sound, and there he was.

Azriel.

And Eris’s blood boiled, heat pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

The shadowsinger rushed toward you and you didn’t flinch. You didn’t pull away. You let him near. For once, Azriel showed some emotion, guilt written clearly across his face as he looked at you.

“I came as soon as I—” Azriel started, voice low and apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he didn’t... I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew.”

Oh.

Eris hated everything about this, his stomach twisting further. He saw it, the flash of betrayal in your eyes as the truth clicked into place. Your gaze shifted between them both, as if trying to decide who had hurt you more. You looked like you might collapse from the weight of it all, your stance faltering.

Azriel caught you immediately, one arm instantly curling around your waist, his shadows coiling protectively around your arms.

And once again, you let him touch you, as if silently accepting his apology. That was the moment something inside Eris snapped. A sound low and primal rumbled from deep within Eris’s chest. You froze, body tensing at the sound.

Azriel stepped forward, placing himself between you and Eris, widening his stance as if preparing for a fight.

“Get away from my mate,” Eris snarled, the words dragged from his throat like fire.

The room went silent, even Eris’s breath stilled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Not like this. Not with you seeking comfort into someone else’s arms, not with another male standing between you. But the word had ripped free before he could stop it.

Mate.

He watched, with bated breath, as you turned back to him slowly like it physically hurt to do so. Your gaze met his and he saw it in your eyes before he felt it in his chest.

A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest, sinking into his bones, threading into his veins. There you were. Your end of the bond. Bright and trembling and real.

Eris staggered where he stood, his hand twitching at his side, wanting to reach out to you. The bond had been a thread inside him for longer than he could admit. It had been quiet and dormant, one he’d felt the shape of but never dared pull on in fear that it was all his imagination.

But now—now—your side flared to life. It was full of pain, of anger, and underneath it all, humming so faintly, he nearly wept. Love. You still loved him. At least, a part of you did.

His chest clenched so tightly it hurt. He opened his mouth, the words on the edge of his tongue, trembling and desperate—Do you feel it now? Do you finally see what we are?—but the hope that flared in him was fragile, and it dwindled when your lips parted and your expression crumbled into something far more devastating.

“You knew,” you breathed in disbelief, voice breaking with betrayal. “You knew all this time…”

Eris swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you repeated, the same words from earlier. They were sharper now, cutting into him.

“It does matter,” Eris said, stepping toward you, desperation leaking into every syllable. “You’re my mate and you’re carrying my child. That changes everything.”

His words made your expression darken. The grief in your eyes shifted, hardening into something colder, something angrier. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eris. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

Eris winced, recognizing those words instantly. The same words he had that night he broke your heart. The anguish flaring inside manifested onto his face, no longer having control over his emotions. He was growing more desperate by the minute. “Please,” he rasped but you turned your head. “You have it all wrong. Let me explain—”

“You didn’t want me then,” you cut him off, eyes still fixed anywhere but on him. “A bond changes nothing. A child changes nothing.”

“Just—please.” He took another step, but froze when you recoiled, when your hand clenched around Azriel’s forearm like a lifeline.

Azriel unsheathed his dagger with his free hand in one smooth, warning motion. “Don’t come any closer.”

The fire in Eris’s veins was searing, flames licking at his fingertips. He turned back to you, eyes pleading urgently with you to look back at him. “Please, y/n. Just come back home with me. I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

“She’s not going back with you,” Azriel said, his tone sharp and final.

And Eris nearly lost it.

His vision tunneled, the edges of the room blurring beneath the heat of his rage. His jaw clenched so hard it became painful.

Azriel had no right—no right—to keep you from him. No right to touch you. No right to be the one you leaned on. Not when the bond between you and Eris had finally revealed itself. Not when he was your mate. Not when it was supposed to be him holding you through the storm of your pain.

The very air around him rippled with heat as his magic surged. The flames at his fingertips pulsed with his fury, flickering with the kind of heat that could burn down villages. Across from him, Azriel’s shadows began to shift, writhing in a dance of opposition.

But Eris didn’t strike.

He couldn’t. You were too close to Azriel.

So he turned that rage into words, venom lacing every syllable. “Stay out of this, shadowsinger. Or better yet—be a good pet and crawl back to whatever dark corner Rhysand houses you in.”

Azriel didn’t flinch. He stood firm, unbothered by the power crackling around him. “I’m not leaving her.”

Eris’s voice was a growl. “She’s my mate.”

“Funny thing, Eris… ,” Azriel let out a dark chuckle. “I don’t care about bonds. The Cauldron doesn’t always get it right. Just ask your brother.”

Eris’s flames sputtered, then surged violently. His entire body shook with restraint, because all he wanted was to rip Azriel away from you, to gather you into his arms and never let go.

You’re mine, he wanted to scream. You’re mine and you always have been.

But he couldn’t say it. Not when you were looking at him like he was the enemy. Not when you clung to Azriel like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

Eris had never felt anything like this. This twisting, unbearable ache in his chest. The fury. The helplessness. The regret. Gods, he thought he was protecting you. Thought pushing you away would spare you the pain of being tied to him. He could’ve lived with your hatred—if it meant you were safe. He should’ve burned the whole damn world down before turning his back on you, no matter how scared he was back then.

Now, it was too late. And the cost of his grave mistake stared him in the face, trembling and wrapped in the arms of another male. The flames at his hands flickered and then died. He took a tentative step forward and when you didn’t shrink away, he took another, ignoring the warning glare Azriel sent his way.

One hand reached toward you, shaking.

“Y/n,” he breathed your name like a prayer. “Please. Come back home with me.”

“I thought I said she’s not going back with you.”

“You don’t get to decide for her.” Eris seethed.

“Fine,” Azriel said with an infuriating calm, turning to you. “What do you want?”

Again, that silence stretched, long and suffocating. And again, you looked between them, between the male who had broken your heart and the one who now stood like your shield, his shadows curling protectively at your feet.

The bond thrummed painfully in Eris’s chest like a tether straining, pulling tight with every heartbeat. Then your eyes finally met his once more and he let everything fall away. His carefully constructed mask. His pride. His fury. All of it.

Eris dropped to his knees before you. “Please.”

His voice cracked on the word. It was a plea for forgiveness. It was hope in its most fragile form. The last thing he had left.

You stared at his outstretched hand, eyes brimming with unshed tears. When your fingers twitched at your side, just the slightest movement, his breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he believed. He believed that you might reach for him, might have it in you to hear him out and perhaps, even forgive him.

Eris held perfectly still, burning from the inside out, as if even a breath might scare you away.

But then—your gaze dropped. Your shoulders sagged, your head turning away and looking back at Azriel. “I want to leave,” you whispered, your voice soft and trembling, yet it shattered him all the same.

“Far from here. Far from Autumn.”

The air punched from his lungs. You no longer trusted him. The bond raged like a wildfire, wild, desperate and screaming for you and your unborn child. He could only watch as shadows–Azriel’s shadows– wrapped around you and began to take what was once his.

And now, Eris finally understood what it meant to be completely and utterly shattered, torn apart from the inside by the one you loved the most.

a/n: I think this may be the angstiest piece I've written to date? Anyway, I think after this part, this series will consists drabbles/small scenes. I don't know which one to write first so please help me by voting here.

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@webvics

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

if you asked to be on the tag list & don't see your name here or on my general one, pls let me know! I'll keep track of them here.

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #eris angst #the mark eris left behind #acotar fanfiction

595 notes · View notes

mahalachives · 19 days ago

Text

Part 7: The Night He Wept

Warning: This chapter contains emotional trauma, grief, and one (1) deeply depressed shadowsinger who is Not Doing Well.

Reader discretion advised for intense emotional moments, ambiguous consent regarding mating bonds, rejection fallout, and scenes of vulnerability that may be triggering for those sensitive to abandonment, entrapment, or quiet men crying silently in the garden.

Azriel is having a time. You might, too.

Please take care of your heart. And maybe keep tissues, and a therapist nearby. 💔🕯

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Genre: angst, romcom, humor, fish out of water reader, canon (ish)

Summary: Murdered after a late-night study session in the modern world, you awaken in Prythian—still yourself, but with Fae features and the infamous title of Beron’s cold-hearted and ruthless daughter.

Then, fate snaps the mating bond into place between you and the shadowsinger, Azriel—who rejects it so fiercely, even the magic recoils.

You died a healer. You woke up a villain. Now fate’s mated you to who wants nothing to do with either—you’ll prove them all wrong, one heartbeat at a time.

Between Two Fires - Masterlist

Winnowing was a strange sensation at the best of times.

The world folding around you, compressing to a single point before expanding again.

But this was wrong.

The darkness stretched too long. Your body felt too light, then impossibly heavy.

The pain in your shoulder flared so violently that a scream tore from your throat, though you couldn't hear it through the roaring in your ears.

When reality finally reassembled itself, you were sprawled on unfamiliar ground, Lucien's arms still around you. Rain pelted your face, mingling with the blood that seemed to be everywhere now.

"Stay with me," Lucien commanded, his voice tight with panic. He shifted you in his arms, his face swimming in and out of focus above you.

The trees overhead blurred into a canopy of indistinct shapes.

Not the Dawn Court.

This was still Autumn territory, though not anywhere you recognized.

"Something went wrong," Lucien muttered, more to himself than to you. "Winnowing wounded... shouldn't have risked it."

You tried to answer, to tell him you were fine, but your mouth filled with a metallic taste.

Blood. Your blood.

"Nerissa's cottage is close," Lucien said, his pace quickening as he carried you through the rain. "Just hold on."

The world tilted sickeningly, darkness encroaching at the edges of your vision. The bond in your chest pulsed weakly, like the fluttering of a bird's wings.

The ash tea still burned through your system, keeping the full force of the bond at bay, but doing something else too. Something worse.

"Lucien," you managed, your voice a thread of sound beneath the rain.

He looked down, his mismatched eyes wild with fear. "Don't talk. Save your strength."

But you needed to say it, needed him to understand. "It's stopping me from healing."

His jaw tightened, a flash of understanding and horror crossing his face. "The ash," he whispered. "It suppresses magic."

Including the magic that might have kept you alive.

The cottage appeared ahead, a small structure nestled among ancient oaks. Smoke curled from its chimney despite the rain, lamplight glowing in the windows. Lucien kicked at the door, not bothering with courtesy.

"Nerissa!" he shouted. "I need help!"

The door swung open to reveal an elderly faerie with skin like autumn leaves and eyes of deep, shifting amber. She took one look at you and stepped back, gesturing them inside.

"Put her on the table," she instructed, already moving to gather supplies.

Lucien laid you down gently. You could feel the blood pooling beneath you, soaking into the rough wood. Too much blood.

Nerissa worked quickly, cutting away your sodden clothing to reveal the arrow wound. It had gone straight through, leaving entry and exit wounds that should have been survivable. But the arrow had been tipped with something. You'd seen it glinting green on the arrowhead before it struck you.

"Poison?" Lucien asked, hovering anxiously.

"Yes." Nerissa's voice was grim. "But that's not the worst of it." Her fingers traced the veins spreading outward from the wound. "What has she taken?"

"Ashwood tea," Lucien admitted. "To dampen a mating bond."

Nerissa's hands stilled. "Foolish girl," she breathed. "The ashwood neutralizes all magic, including healing magic."

"Can you help her?" Lucien's voice cracked on the question.

The healer pressed her palms to your wound, closing her eyes in concentration. You felt a warmth trying to penetrate the cold that had settled into your bones, but it was like water sliding off oiled cloth. Nothing took hold.

"The ash wood is blocking me," Nerissa said, frustration evident in her voice. "I can't reach her system to purge the poison."

"There must be something," Lucien insisted. "Some way to counteract it."

"Perhaps..." Nerissa hesitated, then moved to a chest in the corner of the cottage. She rummaged inside, pulling out a small box inlaid with bone. "This is old magic. Before High Lords, before courts."

Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, each pulse weaker than the last. The pain was receding now, replaced by a spreading numbness that should have terrified you but instead felt like relief.

"Hurry," Lucien urged, his hands pressed to your wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Nerissa returned with something cupped in her gnarled hands. "Blood magic," she said softly. "It works outside the normal channels."

"Whatever it takes," Lucien replied without hesitation.

The healer nodded, sprinkled a mixture of herbs and dark powder around your body, forming a circle on the table. "But it requires payment."

"Name it."

"A memory," Nerissa said, her amber eyes fixed on Lucien. "One you value."

Lucien didn't hesitate. "Take it."

She nodded once, then placed her hands on either side of your face. "And from her, we take the poison."

The world started to fade around you, consciousness slipping away. As Nerissa began to chant in a language older than Prythian, your mind drifted free from your body.

And suddenly, you were elsewhere.

A hospital room. Sterile. Bright.

The rhythmic beeping of machines, the soft whoosh of mechanical breathing. And there. A body in a bed. Your body. Tubes and wires connected to machines that kept it alive.

"...no change in brain activity, though the patterns are unusual," a male voice was saying. A doctor. Human.

"What does that mean?" Another voice, your aunt's, thick with tears. "Is she in pain?"

"We don't believe so," the doctor replied gently. "But I'm afraid there's been no improvement since the accident. The coma is stable, but deep."

Coma.

The word registered with a jolt of understanding. Your human body had been in a coma all this time, while your consciousness wandered in Prythian.

"It's been three months," your aunt said, voice breaking. "You said if there was going to be improvement..."

"I know this is difficult to hear," the doctor said, "but at this point, we've done everything medically possible. The rest is up to her. She has to find her way back."

A sob escaped your aunt. You tried to scream, to move, to give any sign that you were there, that you could hear them. But nothing happened.

I'm here! you shouted inside your mind. I'm right here!

But she couldn't hear you. No one could.

Her hand closed around yours, warm and achingly familiar. "Baby, if you can hear me," she whispered, "please come back to us. Please don't go."

And you couldn't. You were trapped between worlds, neither fully in Prythian nor fully in your human body. You wept without tears, screamed without sound, as your aunt's fingers gently stroked your unresponsive hand.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she promised, her voice thick with grief. "I love you. Always."

As she moved away, your awareness began to fade, the hospital room growing distant. The beeping of the heart monitor receded, replaced by a different sound. Nerissa's chanting, Lucien's desperate pleas.

You were being pulled back, drawn inexorably toward the body dying on that wooden table.

Back to Prythian.

Part of you wanted to resist, to stay with your aunt, in your world. But your human body was beyond your reach now, your consciousness tethered to this new existence whether you wanted it or not.

The cottage materialized around you, time seemingly frozen in the moment of your almost-death. Lucien's hands pressed against your wound, his face contorted with grief and determination. Nerissa stood with palms outstretched, her blood magic pulsing in crimson waves that fought against the ashwood in your system.

As your consciousness settled back into your dying body, the cottage snapped into focus, time resuming its normal flow.

Pain flooded back, the poison and blood loss and failing heart. But something else came with it. Nerissa's magic, dark and ancient, finding pathways the ash tea couldn't block.

"There," she whispered, triumph in her voice. "The blood accepts blood."

Your back arched off the table as your heart lurched painfully in your chest, giving one strong beat, then another. Blood that had been sluggishly seeping from your wound slowed, then stopped entirely as the wound began to close under Nerissa's touch.

"She's returning," Nerissa said, watching as color crept back into your cheeks. "But changed."

Lucien sagged with relief, his hand finding yours and squeezing tight. "Thank the Cauldron."

"Don't thank anything yet," the healer warned. "The poison is gone, but the ashwood remains. It will be days before it leaves her system entirely."

"And the bond?" Lucien asked quietly.

"Muted, still. But present." Nerissa's amber eyes fixed on your face with uncomfortable intensity. "Though I sense there is more to this bond than meets the eye. It stretches... elsewhere."

You wanted to weep, to tell them about the other world, about your aunt sitting by a hospital bed, about the life you might never return to. But exhaustion pulled you under, the trauma and magic and sheer weight of your double existence too much to bear.

As consciousness faded once more, one terrible certainty remained.

You weren't going home.

Not to your aunt. Not to your real body.

The bond had claimed you for Prythian.

And somewhere far to the north, a shadowsinger flew through rain and darkness, driven by a golden thread he couldn't ignore and didn't understand coming to find what belonged to him, whether either of you wanted it or not.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, the bitter taste of Nerissa's medicine lingering on your tongue. The cottage was quiet save for the steady patter of rain on the thatched roof and the occasional crackling of the hearth fire. Night had fallen, turning the windows into black mirrors that reflected the warm glow within.

Voices pulled you from the edge of sleep hushed, tense, just beyond your door.

"You should have taken her straight to Dawn," came Eris's voice, pitched low but sharp with anger. "Not stopped at this hovel."

"She was dying," Lucien replied, his tone equally tense. "The arrow had pierced clean through, and she was losing too much blood. I made the call I had to make."

"And now five fae are dead."

Your breath caught. You kept your eyes closed, feigning sleep while straining to hear.

"What are you talking about?" Lucien asked.

"Your little escape from the estate didn't go unnoticed," Eris said. "Word travels, even in rain and darkness. The shadowsinger found the burning ruins."

The bond in your chest gave a sudden, sharp tug at the mention of Azriel. You ignored it, focusing on the conversation.

"Impossible," Lucien breathed. "He couldn't have tracked us that quickly."

"He didn't need to track you," Eris replied, disgust evident in his voice. "He simply followed the chaos you left behind. And when he found your little mess, he found the hunters who survived the fire."

A pause. Then, "He killed them all, Lucien. One by one."

"They tried to kill her," Lucien said, but there was uncertainty in his voice. "They deserved-"

"That's not the point," Eris cut in. "The point is the way he did it. Cold. Calculated. My source said he was completely composed."

"Bond-sickness should have driven him to madness by now," Lucien said, confusion evident in his voice. "Especially after her injury. He should be feral, uncontrolled."

"But he's not," Eris replied, something like reluctant respect in his tone. "It's as if the bond has given him clarity rather than chaos. He's more focused, more deadly than ever."

The bond pulsed again, stronger this time, sending a wave of heat through your veins despite the ash tea still lingering in your system. You pressed your hand to your chest, willing it to be quiet, to let you hear.

"You sound almost impressed," Lucien said with disbelief.

"I can recognize a dangerous opponent without liking him," Eris replied. "And the shadowsinger has become something… formidable. The bond hasn't weakened him as it should have. It's strengthened him, focused him."

"What does that mean for her?" Lucien's voice had an edge of concern now.

"It means he won't stop," Eris said simply. "Not for borders or laws or High Lords. Not until he finds her. And he will find her with a determination that even Rhysand might find disturbing."

"She's not some possession to be claimed," Lucien said.

"I don't think that's what he sees anymore," Eris replied thoughtfully. "My source said he moved differently, spoke differently. Not like a male hunting a possession, but like one seeking his other half. There was purpose there, not just obsession."

You shivered despite yourself, remembering the cold precision of Azriel's rejection. The harsh words. The shadows that nevertheless had caressed your cheek with strange tenderness.

"We need to move her to Dawn Court as soon as we can," Eris continued, his voice urgent now. "We leave at first light."

"And when she's healed?" Lucien asked. "We can't keep her hidden forever, even in Dawn Court."

A longer silence fell. When Eris spoke again, his voice was softer, almost resigned.

"No. Eventually, she'll have to face him. But on her terms, not his. When she's strong enough to make her own choice."

"And if she chooses him?"

"Then we respect her decision," Eris said. "But it will be her choice. Not the bond's. Not his. Not even ours."

The bond gave another insistent tug, as if in agreement with their words. This time, you couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped your lips as golden light briefly pulsed beneath your skin.

The conversation outside your door immediately ceased. Footsteps approached, and you quickly closed your eyes, forcing your breathing to even out.

The door creaked open. You could sense them both standing there, watching you.

"She shouldn't be moved tomorrow," Lucien said quietly. "She's still too weak."

"The alternative is waiting for the shadowsinger to find her," Eris replied. "And I promise you, brother, he's already hunting."

You expected to hear the door close, but instead, footsteps approached your bedside. The mattress dipped slightly as someone sat beside you. A warm hand gently brushed the hair from your forehead a touch so unexpectedly tender that you nearly gave yourself away by opening your eyes.

"I'll check the perimeter again," Lucien said softly from the doorway. "Make sure Nerissa's wards are holding."

The door closed with a quiet click, leaving you alone with Eris. His hand remained on your forehead, a comforting weight that felt strangely familiar, as if your body remembered a touch your mind did not.

"I know you're awake," Eris said quietly, no anger in his voice, just weary resignation.

You opened your eyes, meeting his amber gaze. In the dim light of the single candle, his normally harsh features seemed softer, more human.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Enough," you whispered. "Five dead."

Eris nodded, his hand still resting on your forehead. "The shadowsinger is… not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"A rabid animal," he said frankly. "Bond-sickness usually breaks a male, especially one who has rejected the bond initially. It should have driven him mad."

"But it didn't," you said, the words a question more than a statement.

Eris studied your face, his expression unreadable. "No. It changed him, but not in the way I anticipated. It's as if…" He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "As if he's found his purpose."

The bond hummed quietly in your chest, neither painful nor insistent, just… present.

"Are you afraid of him?" Eris asked, surprising you with his directness.

You considered the question, truly considered it. "I don't know," you admitted. "I should be. But…"

"But the bond tells you differently," he finished for you.

You nodded, unable to deny it. "Does that make me a fool?"

A ghost of a smile touched Eris's lips. "No more than any of us who have been touched by the Cauldron's whims."

His hand moved from your forehead to take one of yours, his grip firm but gentle. It was such an unexpectedly brotherly gesture that tears sprang to your eyes. "Why are you trying to protect me."

"You're still my sister," he replied, as if that explained everything. And perhaps it did.

He squeezed your hand once before releasing it. "Rest. Tomorrow will be challenging enough without you exhausting yourself eavesdropping. The journey to Dawn Court will test your strength."

As he rose to leave, you caught his sleeve. "Eris."

He paused, looking down at you.

"Thank you."

He didn't smile you weren't sure Eris truly knew how but his expression softened slightly. He placed his hand briefly on top of your head in a gesture so familial, so protective, that it made your heart ache. Then, in a movement so quick and gentle you might have imagined it, he bent down and pressed a kiss to your head.

"Sleep, little flame," he said quietly, using what must have been a childhood nickname. "Your brothers are watching over you."

It lingered like a blessing, so unexpected from the cold, calculating male you'd come to know. It spoke of a past you couldn't remember, of a bond deeper than politics or court alliances.

Then he was gone, the door closing silently behind him, leaving only the faint scent of cinnamon and smoke to prove he'd been there at all.

You turned your face to the pillow, confused tears slipping down your cheeks. The bond sang its golden song in your blood, but now another bond one of family, of blood and choice and unexpected protection wrapped around you as well.

Tomorrow you would leave with your newfound brothers, flee to Dawn Court, continue fighting against the bond that tried to claim you.

But tonight, in the darkness where no one could see, you allowed yourself to wonder about the male who had found clarity rather than madness in your connection. Who sought you not as a possession, but as his missing piece.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, there might be a choice that didn't require you to run from one bond to preserve another.

You were barely conscious when you arrived at the Dawn Court. The journey had taken what remained of your strength, Lucien and Eris winnowing you through multiple points to throw off any trackers. Your vision had tunneled to pinpricks of light, voices coming to you as if through water.

“She needs immediate attention,” someone said, their voice musical yet commanding. “Bring her to the eastern chambers.”

Hands lifted you onto something soft that floated beneath you, carrying you through corridors scented with jasmine and morning light. You tried to focus, to thank whoever was helping you, but consciousness slipped away again. Replaced by a different scene entirely.

The hospital room. The beeping monitors. Your aunt’s voice, thick with tears.

“It’s been over three months now, and the doctors say… they say we should consider…” Her voice broke. “I can’t give up on you. I won’t.”

You tried to reach for her, to tell her you were there, that you could hear her, but an invisible barrier held you back.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only watch as she pressed her forehead against your unresponsive hand.

“Come back to us,” she whispered. “Please come back.”

The scene dissolved, replaced by a Dawn Court ceiling painted with a perpetual sunrise. Healers moved around you, their hands stirring gentle currents of air that smelled of herbs and magic. You let yourself drift, caught between worlds, belonging to neither.

Days passed this way. Sometimes you were in Prythian, vaguely aware of people tending to you, speaking about you as if you couldn’t hear.

Other times you were in the hospital room, a prisoner in your own unresponsive body, watching your family grieve.

You never fully woke. Never fully slept.

You simply existed in a gray space between, the mating bond a dull ache in your chest. A tether to a world you hadn’t chosen but couldn’t escape.

On the fourth day. Or maybe the fifth; time had become fluid, unreliable, you heard Eris’s voice.

“Is there improvement?” he asked someone you couldn’t see.

“Her physical wounds are healing,” came the reply, a female voice, likely a healer. “But she remains unconscious.”

“And the bond?” Eris’s voice was carefully neutral, revealing nothing.

“Stable, but stressed. The separation isn’t helping.”

“It’s necessary,” Eris said firmly. “Beron has every tracker in Autumn searching for her. He’s even approached the Spring Court for assistance, claiming she was abducted.”

“Lord Thesan understands the situation,” the healer assured him. “Our wards will hold.”

Their voices faded as you slipped back into the liminal space, pulled toward your human body once more. The hospital room seemed dimmer this time, night having fallen. A different family member. Your cousin, sat beside your bed, reading aloud from your favorite book as if you might hear and find your way back through the words.

You drifted again, caught in the riptide between worlds.

When awareness returned, Lucien sat beside your Dawn Court bed, his metal eye whirring softly as he studied your face.

“You need to wake up properly,” he said quietly, as if sensing you could hear him even in your half‑conscious state. “Ember and Sizzle are terrorizing the servants. Yesterday they set fire to Thesan’s favorite tapestry, and the day before that they somehow got into the kitchens and charbroiled an entire week’s worth of pastries.”

As if summoned by their names, you felt two small, warm weights settle on either side of your pillow, your flame‑bunnies, who had apparently appointed themselves your guardians in this strange, suspended state.

“Troublemakers,” Lucien continued, his voice fond despite his words.

You wanted to respond, to reach out, but the pull of the other world was too strong. Back in the hospital, a doctor was speaking to your aunt, using words like persistent vegetative state and difficult decisions ahead. You tried to scream, to let them know you were there, trapped between lives, unable to fully claim either.

Fragments of conversation drifted through the fog of days.

“Beron grows more desperate. He’s threatened the Summer Court with retaliation if they don’t assist in the search.”

“Why is he so fixated on finding her? He never showed such concern before.”

Eris sighed, after a long pause, “Because she defied him. Beron doesn’t care about her, only about making an example of her. He intends to show what happens to those who defy the High Lord of Autumn.”

The words pierced the haze. Rage and wounded pride, nothing more. The bond flared at the thought, golden light flickering beneath your skin.

Your eyes opened properly for the first time since arriving at Dawn Court. The chamber around you was beautiful in a way the Autumn Court could never manage. Soft light and gentle curves, crystals catching and amplifying the eternal dawn.

Ember and Sizzle, dozing on your pillow, perked up, their tiny flame forms brightening with excitement. They hopped around your head, chirping happily and leaving small scorch marks on the luxurious bedding.

“Look who’s finally decided to join the land of the living,” Lucien said from the doorway, arms crossed yet visibly relieved. “Just in time, too. Your little fire hazards were about to be banished to the fountain for their own good.”

Ember looked deeply offended. Sizzle, indifferent, continued exploring, leaving paw‑prints of ash on silken sheets.

“How long?” you croaked.

“Nine days,” Lucien replied, pouring water from a crystal carafe. “You’ve been… elsewhere.”

You drank gratefully, but kept your secrets close. “It feels like I’ve been dreaming. Strange dreams.”

Lucien’s metal eye whirred faster. “Trauma often sends the mind searching for escape.”

“And the bond?” You pressed a hand to the golden thread pulsing in your chest.

“Still there,” he said. “What it means… we’ll see.”

Eris appeared, amber eyes widening at the sight of you upright. “Just in time for the latest crisis.”

“What crisis?” you asked, reaching for Ember, who hopped into your palm with a contented chirp.

“Beron has discovered your location or suspects it,” Eris replied grimly. “He’s petitioning Thesan for a formal search of Dawn Court grounds.”

“Will Thesan agree?”

“No,” Eris said, confident. “Thesan’s no friend to Autumn. But we must strengthen your protection and plan for a swift departure.”

“Why is Beron so determined? Is it really just because I defied him?”

“He’s furious,” Eris said. “When you ran, you humiliated him. Our father sees you as property, not a daughter.”

“But we won’t let that happen,” Lucien added. “Get your strength back. We may need to move soon.”

Exhaustion washed over you as they left to make arrangements. Ember and Sizzle curled against your side, warm and comforting.

“What am I doing?” you whispered to them. “Caught between worlds while my human body lies dying in a hospital? I can’t tell them. They’d never understand.”

Ember shrugged—a strangely human gesture—and you laughed despite everything.

You slept properly for the first time since arriving at Dawn Court. When you woke, actual sunlight. Not the court’s perpetual glow—streamed through your windows. You’d slept through an entire day and night.

A tray waited. Fruit glowing from within, bread still warm, tea perfectly steeped. You ate ravenously, surprised by your appetite.

Feeling stronger, you explored your chamber. Elegant furniture seemed to grow from the floor; crystal windows refracted light into rainbows; a bathing pool steamed with jasmine‑scented springs.

A knock interrupted. A Dawn Court servant bowed. “Lady, Lord Thesan requests your presence in the eastern garden when you feel strong enough. Your brothers await you there.”

Brothers. The word still felt wrong. They shared blood with this body, but were strangers to the consciousness within.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll come now.”

She left a simple, beautiful gown of pale gold that captured dawn‑light. You dressed quickly, surprised by your regained strength. Ember and Sizzle followed as you walked the corridors; servants stared at your flame‑pets as tiny scorch marks dotted the polished floors.

The garden embodied Dawn Court restraint: pale‑barked trees with glowing blossoms, crushed‑white‑stone paths, fountains singing as water leapt from tier to tier.

Thesan waited by one fountain, his copper skin glinting under the gleaming light.

“Lady of Autumn,” He greeted, kindness warming his ancient eyes. “I’m pleased to see you recovered. Your unconscious state caused us concern.”

“Thank you for your hospitality and protection, Lord Thesan,” you replied, bowing your head. “I’m sorry for any trouble my presence has caused.”

“No trouble,” Thesan assured. “Dawn Court is a place of healing and transition.” His gaze flicked to Ember and Sizzle, currently scaling the fountain with disastrous enthusiasm. “Though your companions have provided some… unexpected excitement.”

“They’re impossible,” you said, stifling a smile as Sizzle slipped into the water with a hiss of steam. “But they mean well.”

“Indeed.” Thesan’s expression sobered. “I hope your stay, however brief, brings peace. Dawn Court lives in the moment of transition between night and day. A reminder that no state is permanent, only change.”

You wondered if he sensed your divided nature, but his face revealed only polite welcome.

“Thank you, Lord Thesan,” you said. “I hope to enjoy what Dawn Court offers for as long as I may stay.”

As talk turned to mundane matters of accommodation and security, the hospital surfaced in your mind, distant now, faint. Your human family still kept vigil, but their voices reached you as though from a deep well.

The bond tugged you toward this world, this reality. Answers about Beron, the bond, and yourself, waited beyond Dawn Court’s perpetual sunrise.

For now, you would gather strength and keep your secrets close, navigating this strange existence between two worlds.

The Dawn Court's borders shimmered in the perpetual half light, a gossamer veil of magic that separated Thesan's realm from the rest of Prythian.

Azriel stood before it, unmoving as he had been for days now, his shadows writhing around him in agitated tendrils that reflected the turmoil within.

The sentries watched him warily from their posts.

The shadowsinger of the Night Court had arrived five days ago, taking position at the eastern border where the magic was thinnest. He'd made no move to cross, no attempt to infiltrate.

He simply... waited. Watching. Sometimes pacing, but mostly standing in silent vigil, his haggard appearance growing more concerning with each passing day.

"He hasn't eaten since yesterday," one sentry murmured to another as they changed shifts. "Barely sleeps either. Just stands there, staring."

"Should we report to Lord Thesan again?"

"Already did. He said to continue observation only."

Azriel heard them, of course.

His Illyrian hearing could pick up a whisper from across a battlefield. But he gave no indication, his focus turned inward to the golden thread that pulsed in his chest sometimes painfully bright, sometimes a dull ache, but always pulling him toward the heart of Dawn Court.

Toward you.

His wings, normally immaculate, showed signs of neglect the leathery membranes dull rather than gleaming. Dark stubble shadowed his usually clean shaven jaw, while circles beneath his eyes gave his already severe features a haunted quality.

The shadows themselves had changed.

Those who knew Azriel well would have noticed immediately they no longer moved with calculated precision, no longer seemed like tools under his absolute control. Instead, they reached, they yearned, stretching toward the border before being pulled back to coil around their master like protective serpents.

When the Dawn Court emissary finally approached, Azriel's eyes sharpened with predatory focus, though he made no move toward the slender fae who approached with hands raised in peaceful gesture.

"Shadowsinger," the emissary greeted formally. "Lord Thesan acknowledges your presence at our borders and invites you to an audience."

Azriel's voice, when he finally spoke, was rough from disuse. "When?"

"Now, if you're willing."

Azriel gave a single, sharp nod.

The emissary gestured toward the border, which parted like silk curtains to admit him. The moment he crossed, he felt the weight of Dawn Court wards settle around him not hostile, but watchful, ready to neutralize any threat.

As they walked through forests bathed in perpetual sunrise, Azriel's shadows retreated closer to his body, as if uncomfortable in the gentle light. His hand drifted occasionally to the hilt of Truth Teller at his hip not in threat, but from habit, seeking comfort in the familiar weight.

The golden thread in his chest pulled harder with each step toward the palace, almost painfully tight now.

Somewhere ahead, you waited.

Somewhere ahead, the other half of his soul lived and breathed, perhaps hating him for the cruel words he'd spat at you when the bond had first snapped into place.

"I reject you," he had told you weeks ago, the memory flashing unbidden through his mind.

Your face had crumpled at his coldness, the bond between you shuddering with your pain. He had turned away then, unable to face what he'd done.

The Dawn Court palace rose before them, its crystalline spires capturing the eternal sunrise and fracturing it into rainbows that danced across polished facades.

Even in his state of agitation, Azriel could appreciate its beauty so different from the shadowed grandeur of the Night Court, yet magnificent in its own way.

They led him not to the grand audience chamber, but to a smaller, more intimate garden terrace where Thesan waited alone. The High Lord of Dawn studied Azriel with ancient eyes that held no hostility, only careful assessment.

"Shadowsinger," Thesan greeted. "You've caused quite a stir, maintaining your vigil at my borders."

Azriel inclined his head slightly, the closest he could manage to courtly manners in his current state. "I meant no disrespect."

"None was taken." Thesan gestured to a seat across from him, but Azriel remained standing. The High Lord didn't press the issue. "Your appearance suggests you have not been caring for yourself."

Azriel made no reply.

His state was obvious enough the weight he'd lost, the gauntness in his face, the shadows under his eyes that had nothing to do with his power.

"Why have you come, Shadowsinger?" Thesan asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.

Azriel's gaze lifted to meet the High Lord's, and something in that gaze the raw emotion, the quiet desperation seemed to soften Thesan's expression.

"I don't demand to see her," Azriel said, the words clearly difficult. "I don't demand anything."

"A refreshing approach," Thesan noted. "Most males in your position would be tearing apart my court stone by stone."

Azriel's jaw tightened beneath the dark stubble. "Is she well?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The simple question, asked with such carefully restrained concern, seemed to surprise Thesan, who studied the shadowsinger with renewed interest.

"She is recovering," the High Lord finally replied. "Both physically and... otherwise."

"The arrow wound?" Azriel's shadows twisted anxiously.

"Healed, for the most part. Though there were complications."

Azriel nodded once, his gloved hands clenching. "Has she been able to rest? To eat properly?"

"She's regaining her strength," Thesan answered, watching Azriel carefully.

"And her flame creatures? They're with her?"

A slight smile touched Thesan's lips. "They've caused quite a stir among my household staff. Very protective of her."

Relief flickered across Azriel's face. "Good. That's... good." He paused, then asked, "Is she safe here?"

"As safe as anyone can be in these turbulent times," Thesan replied. "Though Beron's interest in her whereabouts grows more aggressive by the day."

"Has Beron threatened her directly?" Azriel asked, shadows darkening. "Are his agents watching the borders?"

"Your concern is noted, Shadowsinger," Thesan said evenly. "Though I assure you, Dawn Court is quite capable of protecting its guests."

"I don't question your capabilities," Azriel said quietly. "I only wish to know if there's anything I can do to help ensure her safety."

Thesan's eyebrows rose slightly. "You offer assistance to Dawn Court?"

"I offer whatever is needed to ensure she's protected," Azriel replied, the words a quiet vow. "I only ask permission to remain here... at a distance. To help ensure her safety without intruding on her peace."

"And if she doesn't wish you to stay?" Thesan asked, watching him carefully.

"Then I'll go," Azriel said immediately. "But I would station myself at your borders, with your permission."

Thesan studied him for a long moment. "The bond has changed you."

"She has changed me," Azriel corrected softly, then fell silent, as if he'd already said too much about himself.

Thesan's expression showed genuine surprise, then approval. "That is a rare understanding, even among those far older than yourself."

Azriel looked toward the eastern wing of the palace, where the golden thread in his chest pulled insistently. "I don't ask to see her. I don't deserve it."

"And if she chooses to never see you again?" Thesan asked, his tone gentle but probing.

"Then I will protect her from afar," Azriel replied without hesitation. "Whether she claims me or not, she has my dagger, my shadows, my life if needed."

Thesan was silent for a long moment. Then, "You speak of choice, yet you've been at my borders for five days, barely eating, barely sleeping. The bond drives you still."

"The bond drives me to ensure her safety and happiness," Azriel corrected quietly. "Not to possess her."

Something in his words seemed to satisfy Thesan, who nodded slowly. "Rest here tonight, Shadowsinger. Food and quarters will be provided."

Azriel stiffened. "I don't wish to impose-"

"It is not," Thesan interrupted gently. "It is a High Lord's hospitality to a warrior who has clearly reached his limits."

Before Azriel could respond, a flicker of movement caught his attention a flash of fire from a nearby corridor, there and gone in an instant. His shadows surged in that direction, sensing rather than seeing, and Azriel went completely still.

You were near.

So close that the bond sang between you, golden light briefly visible beneath his skin. His wings twitched with the instinct to move toward you, but he held himself rigidly in place, refusing to push, to intrude.

Thesan rose, "A room will be prepared for you. Food brought. I suggest you accept both, Shadowsinger, before you collapse."

As if his body had been waiting for permission, a wave of exhaustion swept through Azriel. He inclined his head in acceptance, shadows swirling tiredly around him.

"Thank you," Azriel replied, the words raw with genuine gratitude.

As a Dawn Court attendant led him to guest quarters, Azriel felt the golden thread in his chest ease slightly, as if knowing he was under the same roof even floors and corridors away was enough to soothe its constant pull. He followed quietly, each step taking enormous effort now that the adrenaline of meeting with Thesan had faded.

In his room, food had already been laid out fruits that seemed to glow from within, bread still warm from the oven, and a carafe of wine that caught the light like liquid rubies.

Azriel could barely remember the last time he'd eaten properly. The days at the border had blurred together, hunger and thirst secondary to the need to be near you, to know you were safe.

He ate mechanically, his body demanding sustenance even as his mind remained focused on the bond connecting him to you. It felt different here less painful, more... anticipatory. As if the bond itself knew that separation couldn't last forever, one way or another.

After eating, he moved to the balcony that overlooked gardens awash in perpetual dawn light. He breathed deeply, letting his shadows expand and contract with each breath. Somewhere in this palace, you were making your own choice. Whether that choice included him or not, he would honor it.

His gloved fingers absently rubbed at the stubble on his jaw as he stared out at the Dawn Court's eternal sunrise. He didn't care about his haggard appearance, his exhaustion, or his hunger. He cared only about one thing.

That you were safe. That you were healing. That you had everything you needed.

The rest including whether you ever forgave him was entirely your choice.

And for the first time in his long life, the shadowsinger surrendered completely to a power greater than his formidable will.

The choice was yours.

The healing chambers of the Dawn Court became your sanctuary.

After weeks of recovery, you found yourself drawn to the eastern wing of Thesan's palace where injured fae came seeking help.

At first, you simply observed, fascinated by the Dawn healers' methods so different from Autumn Court magic, which focused on destruction rather than restoration.

"You have a natural aptitude," remarked Alis, the chief healer, as you handed her crushed herbs for a poultice.

Her amber eyes studied you with interest. "Your touch calms the patients."

You shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "I'm just trying to be useful."

"Nonsense," she replied briskly. "Your energy has healing properties. I suspect it's always been there, just... misdirected in Autumn."

The work gave you purpose, a reason to rise each morning despite the persistent ache of the bond in your chest.

The ash tea's effects had finally worn off completely, leaving you with the full strength of the mating bond, a golden thread that tugged constantly toward the western edge of the palace grounds.

You ignored it. Deliberately. Fiercely.

Instead, you threw yourself into learning. Into living. Into rebuilding a life that was wholly your own.

"The lavender infusion needs straining," you told one of the younger healers as you moved through the sunlit chamber, checking on patients.

The Dawn Court's perpetual sunrise streamed through crystal windows, bathing everything in a golden glow that enhanced healing magic.

As you reached for fresh bandages on a high shelf, you felt it again the sensation of being watched.

It had been happening for days now, a prickling awareness that raised the fine hairs on your neck. You turned sharply, scanning the room, the doorway, the windows.

Nothing. No one.

Just as there had been nothing the day before, or the day before that.

You pushed the feeling aside. Dawn Court was full of secrets and hidden watchers perimeter guards, palace attendants, the Peregryn warriors who served as Thesan's elite force. Any of them might have reason to observe an Autumn Court refugee with unusual healing abilities.

It meant nothing.

"You look tired," Lucien commented that evening as you joined him for a simple dinner in your private quarters.

Eris had already departed another brief visit concluded. His position in Autumn Court required maintaining appearances, which meant he couldn't stay long in Dawn without raising suspicions. "The healing work is draining you."

"I'm fine," you replied, helping yourself to roasted quail and honeyed vegetables. "It's good to be useful."

Lucien studied you for a moment. "You've settled in quickly."

"The Dawn Court suits me," you admitted.

The constant sunrise felt like hope made manifest neither trapped in darkness nor exposed to harsh daylight. Just endless possibility.

Later that night, as you prepared for bed, you noticed something on your balcony a small parcel wrapped in midnight-blue silk, secured with a silver ribbon.

Your heart beat faster as you approached it warily. It hadn't been there earlier. Someone had placed it there while you dined.

With cautious fingers, you untied the ribbon.

Inside lay a delicate silver bracelet, each link shaped like a tiny flame that somehow captured the dawn light and reflected it in golden hues. It was beautiful understated yet distinctive, nothing like the ostentatious Autumn Court jewelry you'd seen.

A small note accompanied it, written in an elegant, angular hand.

For protection and healing.

No signature. None needed.

You knew instantly who had left it, just as you knew who had been watching from the shadows.

Azriel.

Anger flared hot and sudden. You stormed from your room, bracelet clutched in your fist. The bond pulsed wildly as you marched through the Dawn Court halls, following its pull like a compass.

You found Lucien in the library, browsing ancient texts by lamplight.

"You knew," you accused, throwing the bracelet onto the table before him. It clattered against the polished wood. "You knew he was here."

Lucien didn't feign ignorance. "Thesan granted him sanctuary three days ago."

"Why wasn't I told?" The flames in the nearby hearth flickered higher, responding to your anger.

"Because you're still healing," Lucien said carefully. "And because he specifically asked not to disturb your peace."

"That's not your decision to make," you snapped. "Or his. Or Thesan's."

"No," Lucien agreed quietly. "It's not. But the damage he did to you when the bond first appeared-"

"Is between him and me."

Lucien studied you. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Why is he here? What does he want? How long has Thesan been sheltering him?"

"Let's find Thesan," Lucien suggested. "He can explain better than I can."

The High Lord received you in his private study despite the late hour. His golden-brown skin seemed to glow with the same light as the perpetual dawn outside, his eyes keen as he gestured for you to sit.

"I expected this visit sooner," Thesan said, pouring three glasses of pale wine. "The shadowsinger arrived at our borders five days ago and simply waited. No demands, no threats."

"Unlike most males in his position," Lucien added.

"Why is he here?" you demanded.

"For you," Thesan said simply. "Though he claims he expects nothing in return. He stood at our borders for days, barely eating, barely sleeping."

"The bond drives him," Lucien explained.

"No," Thesan corrected. "He believes the bond drives him to ensure your safety and happiness, not to possess you. His words, not mine. He offered his services to Dawn Court as additional protection against Beron's growing interest in your whereabouts."

You scoffed. "How convenient."

"I'm not asking you to forgive him," Thesan said. "But I thought his approach unusual. Most fae males, especially warriors of his caliber, would have demanded access to you, claimed ancient rights. He asked only to know that you were healing well."

"The gifts?" you asked.

Thesan's expression softened. "Those were not my idea, nor did I explicitly permit them. But I saw no harm."

"He's a shadowsinger," you said flatly. "Of course you didn't catch him."

"I see more than you might think," Thesan replied, unruffled. "The question is, what do you want done? I can send him away if that's your wish."

The question caught you off guard. You'd been so focused on your anger at being kept in the dark that you hadn't considered what you actually wanted.

Your chair scraped harshly as you stood. "He's not welcome anywhere near me."

"Very well," Thesan began. "I'll inform-"

"No." You cut him off, walking toward the door. "You don't get to play matchmaker, Thesan. Neither of you do. You had no right to keep this from me."

"That wasn't our intent," Lucien said.

You paused at the doorway, not looking back. "I'm not a piece in whatever game you're playing."

You left without waiting for a response, your anger a living thing inside you. But beneath it, the bond hummed, carrying an emotion that wasn't entirely your own, relief, perhaps, that you now knew he was here. That there was no more need for shadows and secrets.

You hated how your body responded to that knowledge, how the pain in your chest had eased slightly despite your fury.

"What is this, Medieval Instagram?" you muttered to yourself later, staring at the bracelet.

You set the bracelet aside, ignoring the insistent tug of the bond in your chest.

After a moment's hesitation, you didn't throw it away, but placed it in a drawer instead.

Out of sight, if not entirely out of mind.

The gifts continued over the following days.

A small pot of healing salve appeared on your balcony, its properties more potent than anything in the Dawn Court's extensive collection. Alis marveled at its efficacy, asking where you'd obtained it.

You couldn't bring yourself to tell her.

Then came a set of delicate crystal vials for holding medicinal tinctures, each stopper carved in the shape of a different healing herb. Next, a rare book on ancient healing techniques, its pages clearly carefully selected to align with your growing interests.

You placed each gift in the drawer with the bracelet, refusing to use them, refusing to acknowledge them in any way.

Yet you found yourself opening that drawer each night, running your fingers over the items, wondering what might appear next. The gifts felt like messages, each one saying. I see you. I know you. I'm sorry. Words the shadowsinger wouldn't couldn't say to your face.

One evening, you discovered a small wooden carving of a flame bunny on your balcony, so detailed it captured Ember's mischievous expression perfectly.

You ran your fingers over the intricate workmanship despite yourself. You placed the carving with the other gifts, trying to ignore how perfectly it fit in your palm, how the weight of it felt oddly comforting.

The next day, as you walked from the healing chambers to your rooms, you felt the familiar prickling sensation of being watched. This time, rather than ignoring it, you stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor.

"I know you're there," you said quietly, not turning around. "Following me like a shadow. Very original, by the way. So this is the Fae version of sliding into my DMs?"

No response came, but the air seemed to thicken, darkness gathering in the corners despite the eternal dawn light streaming through the windows.

Did the shadows just... ripple? As if caught off-guard by your strange reference?

"This is childish," you continued, still facing forward.

The shadows stirred, a whisper of movement that might have been mistaken for a draft if you hadn't been listening for it.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" You finally turned, scanning the seemingly empty corridor. "Fine. Keep hiding."

As you continued to your rooms, the sensation of being watched gradually faded.

By the time you reached your door, you felt alone again the bond still tugging insistently, but the immediate presence gone.

That night, no gift appeared on your balcony.

Nor the next night. Nor the one after that.

You told yourself you were relieved.

That the game, whatever it had been, was finally over. Yet each evening, you found yourself glancing toward the balcony, expecting perhaps even hoping to find another small token.

"This is why we can't have nice things," you muttered to yourself, annoyed at your own disappointment.

Ember and Sizzle seemed agitated, pacing the balcony each evening, their tiny forms of rosy-pink flame flickering with what seemed like disappointment when they found nothing new. They'd grown oddly attached to investigating each gift, sniffing and circling the items with inexplicable interest.

On the fourth night without a gift, Ember hopped onto your vanity table as you prepared for bed. His pink flame form flickered restlessly as he pawed at the drawer where you'd stored the shadowsinger's gifts.

"Stop that," you said, shooing him away. "It's nothing. My own personal Edward Cullen with wings sends his regards," you said with an eye roll that would have confused any purebred Fae.

Ember made a soft, crackling sound not words, but clearly displeasure. He continued pawing at the drawer until you relented and opened it, if only to prevent him from scorching the wood.

"There. See? Just trinkets," you told him firmly.

A soft chirp from the balcony drew your attention. Sizzle stood at the doors, her pink flame form brightening as she squeezed through the small gap you always left open for their nocturnal explorations.

"Sizzle! Get back here," you called, alarmed. She'd never ventured outside alone at night before.

Ember seized the opportunity created by your distraction to grab the wooden carving of himself, following his sister through the gap before you could stop him.

Moving to the balcony doors, you hesitated, then pushed them open fully, stepping out into the cool night air. The balcony was empty.

They must have scrambled down the ivy that covered this section of the palace wall. You leaned over the railing, trying to spot two tiny points of pink flame in the gardens below.

Nothing.

Without thinking, you grabbed a shawl and hurried from your rooms, making your way through the quiet palace corridors toward the gardens.

The bond in your chest seemed to pulse more insistently with each step, as if approving your destination even as you remained ignorant of it.

The night air carried the scent of Dawn Court roses as you entered the gardens, their blooms glowing faintly in the perpetual twilight. You called softly for your companions, listening for the distinctive crackle of their flame-steps on the gravel paths.

A flicker of movement caught your eye not the pink of your flame bunnies, but a deeper shadow among shadows near a secluded bench beneath a flowering tree.

Your steps slowed as you recognized the silhouette seated there, two tiny points of pink flame dancing around his feet.

The traitors had found exactly who they were looking for.

Azriel sat perfectly still as Ember and Sizzle circled him, emitting excited little crackles of flame. In the shadowsinger's gloved hands lay the wooden carving of Ember, which he appeared to be showing to the real thing.

His wings were folded tightly against his back, his expression hidden in shadow. The leather gloves he always wore seemed particularly dark against the pale wood of the carving.

You could have retreated should have retreated.

He hadn't noticed you yet, focused entirely on your flame companions. But your feet carried you forward instead, drawn by equal parts irritation at your pets' betrayal and the insistent pull of the bond.

You approached silently, eyes fixed only on your flame bunnies, deliberately avoiding looking at the shadowsinger.

"Ember. Sizzle. Come," you commanded, your voice neutral, as if speaking to empty air.

The flame bunnies looked up, their pink forms brightening at your approach, but neither moved to obey.

Sizzle even had the audacity to hop closer to Azriel's boot.

You continued as if speaking into a void, still not acknowledging the male's presence. "We're leaving now."

Azriel's shadows swirled around him in agitation, clearly sensing your deliberate dismissal. His head lifted, hazel eyes finding yours, but you looked right through him, focusing on a point beyond his shoulder.

"They see me," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "Why can't you? Or is it that you won't?"

You continued as if you hadn't heard him, as if the words had been merely the rustling of leaves. "Ember, Sizzle. Now."

The flame bunnies remained stubbornly in place. Ember even hopped onto Azriel's knee, pink flame brightening as he settled in like he belonged there.

Something inside you snapped.

A cold anger washed through you, and without thinking, you summoned the magic that tied these creatures to you. Fire blossomed in your palm not the gentle warmth you typically used with them, but a sharp, commanding heat.

"Come," you said one final time, infusing the word with power.

The flame bunnies froze, their pink forms flickering uncertainly. Then, as one, they vanished with twin pops of displaced air.

Azriel visibly flinched at the display of power, at the finality of it. His shadows recoiled around him as if struck.

"Please," he breathed, the word ragged with desperation. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know my words cut deeper than any blade. But this silence," his voice cracked, "is worse than any torture I've endured."

You turned without a word, without a glance, and began walking away.

"I dream of you," he called after you, voice raw with emotion. "Every night, I dream of a world where I didn't fail you."

You didn't slow, didn't turn.

"It doesn't change what happened," Azriel's voice followed you, breaking on each word. "But please... just look at me once. Just once. So I know there's still a path back to you, however long it might be."

You didn't slow, didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the words in any way.

But as you reached the edge of the garden, your peripheral vision caught his expression a flash of such raw pain that it momentarily stole your breath.

His face, usually so carefully controlled, had crumbled into naked hurt, shadows writhing around him like physical manifestations of his agony. A single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek, glinting silver in the eternal dawn light before dropping to the ground.

The shadowsinger of the Night Court feared, revered, impenetrable wept for what he had lost.

You kept walking, spine straight, eyes forward, pretending you hadn't seen. Pretending the image of his devastated face wouldn't haunt your dreams.

The walk back to your chambers felt endless. Each step required focus, determination not to falter, not to let your mask slip.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, nearly drowning out the persistent hum of the bond that seemed to vibrate with the shared pain between you.

When you finally reached your door, your hand trembled slightly as you pushed it open. The moment it closed behind you, your carefully constructed composure shattered.

You slid to the floor, back against the door, as the first sob tore from your throat. The tears you'd been holding back rushed forth in a torrent, hot and unstoppable. Your shoulders shook with the force of your grief, grief for what might have been, grief for his pain, grief for your own.

"Why did you have to look at me like that?" you gasped between sobs, your voice breaking on each word. "Why did you have to cry? You don't get to cry after what you did."

You pressed your palms against your eyes, trying to block out the image that refused to leave you.

Azriel's face, that single silver tear tracking down his cheek. The shadowsinger of the Night Court, powerful and feared across Prythian, brought to tears by your rejection.

"I hate you," you whispered, but the bond flared painfully in your chest, as if sensing the lie. "I hate that I can't hate you."

The bond pulsed in your chest, a golden thread connecting you to him even now, carrying echoes of his anguish alongside your own. You wanted to sever it, to cut it away, but the harder you tried to ignore it, the more insistently it tugged.

"It's not fair," your voice cracked, barely audible through your tears. "It's not fair that I can feel you breaking when all I want is to be free of you."

You curled into yourself, arms wrapped around your knees as if physically holding yourself together. The sobs that wracked your body felt endless, each one torn from somewhere deeper than the last.

"You don't get to haunt me," you choked out. "You don't get to make me care after you threw me away."

You didn't know how long you sat there, tears flowing freely as you mourned something you'd never actually had. Something you'd rejected before fully understanding what it meant. The bond had been a violation, an intrusion but the male himself...

"I could have loved you," you whispered, the confession torn from your very soul. "That's what hurts the most. I could have loved you so easily."

Eventually, the tears subsided, leaving you hollow and exhausted.

You dragged yourself to the washbasin, splashing cold water on your face. In the mirror, your reflection stared back eyes reddened, face blotchy. You barely recognized yourself.

"Get it together," you told your reflection. "Tears doesn't erase what he did."

But even as you spoke the words, you knew they were a lie.

Because the pain you'd glimpsed in Azriel wasn't manipulation or self-pity.

It was raw, genuine agony the pain of someone watching their last hope walk away.

Your fingers slipped into your pocket, touching the silver bracelet you'd taken from the drawer earlier that day. Its weight felt both lighter and heavier than you remembered.

The metal caught the eternal dawn light streaming through your windows, reflecting it in golden hues that matched the bond pulsing in your chest.

"It doesn't change anything," you whispered, echoing his words.

But as your fingers closed around the bracelet rather than putting it back in the drawer, you wondered if that was truly still the case.

Azriel carefully eased the small leather bound journal from his pocket, unable to suppress the hiss of pain as the movement pulled at the wound in his side.

Fresh blood seeped through the hasty bandage he'd applied before leaving the battlefield at the Autumn Court border, the metallic scent mingling with the perpetual dawn sweetness of Thesan's realm.

Three more of Beron's assassins would never report back to their master.

Three more threats to you eliminated.

He'd have done it a thousand times over. Would bleed out a thousand times if it meant keeping you safe.

The journal's pages were worn from constant handling, the first half already filled with his neat, precise handwriting. This small book had become his most treasured possession over the weeks in Dawn Court an archive of you.

Or rather, the strange, fascinating things you said that no one in Prythian seemed to understand.

Today's entry made him smile despite the fire burning through his veins.

"That's about as useful as a screen door on a submarine." [Sketch of what appears to be a metal tube with a door made of crossed lines] Note: What is a submarine? Some kind of underwater house? Why would anyone put a door with holes in it underwater? Filed under: Makes no sense but I understand completely.

He'd overheard you muttering it to yourself when a haughty Dawn Court healer suggested an ineffective treatment for one of your patients.

The sunlight had caught in your hair as you'd said it, turning the strands to living flame. Even in your irritation, you'd been beautiful.

Azriel had no idea what a "submarine" was, but the imagery was somehow perfectly clear something meant to keep water out being rendered useless.

The phrase was so distinctly you.

The journal contained dozens of these oddities.

"Well that escalated quickly." Note: Usually said when Thesan's fussy assistant starts crying after simple criticism. "Not my circus, not my monkeys." [Small sketch of what might be monkeys with question marks] Note: No actual circus observed in Dawn Court. Does she have a secret circus? Must investigate. "Plot twist!" Note: Shouted when discovering her patient had been faking symptoms to stay longer. "Houston, we have a problem." [Sketch of a star with a question mark] Note: Who is Houston? Some kind of authority on problems? Have checked all records of Prythian nobility. No Houston found. "This is giving me major déjà vu." Note: Correct pronunciation: day zhah voo. Sounds Continent based but she has no accent. Used when entering Dawn Court's west wing. Why? What happened there? "Sweet baby Jesus, that hurts!" Note: Unfamiliar deity? No known religion in Prythian worships infant gods. "That's what she said." Note: Said after completely innocent comment about "it's too big to fit." Makes everyone uncomfortable for reasons unclear. "I'm going to need coffee for this." [Sketch of a steaming cup] Note: Unknown beverage. When I asked kitchen staff, they were confused. Apparent withdrawal symptoms observed in mornings. Addictive substance?

Azriel traced a gloved finger over today's entry. Someday, perhaps, he would ask you about them.

Someday, when you finally acknowledged his existence again, he would show you this collection of linguistic curiosities and watch your face as you explained their origins.

If that day ever came.

The thought sent a fresh wave of anguish through him, sharper than the poisoned blade that had caught him in the skirmish hours earlier.

His shadows recoiled as if physically struck, curling protectively around him before lashing out at nothing, responding to his pain in ways his face never would.

He carefully returned the journal to his inner pocket, close to his heart, where it always remained.

Dawn was approaching as Azriel made his way to Lucien's quarters with his latest intel. Blood dripped steadily down his side, each step leaving faint scarlet drops on the polished marble, the trail quickly dissolving into shadow behind him.

What was physical pain compared to the hollow ache of being unseen by the one person whose gaze he craved?

"You look terrible," Lucien said by way of greeting, his metal eye whirring as it took in Azriel's pallor and the blood soaked leathers.

"Beron has deployed his elite guard," Azriel reported, ignoring the comment as he handed over maps marked with troop positions. His voice remained steady despite the room tilting sideways. "They're converging from three directions. The attack will come within two days, possibly when Thesan's power ebbs slightly."

"And his objective?"

"Extraction," Azriel said flatly. "He wants her alive."

Lucien studied the maps with a frown. "How reliable is this intel?"

"I extracted it personally." The words were emotionless, but the shadows around Azriel churned with remembered violence, briefly taking the shapes of the assassins he'd interrogated before ending their lives.

Lucien's gaze flickered to the steadily spreading bloodstain on Azriel's side. "You need a healer."

"It's nothing."

"It's poisoned," Lucien countered. "I can smell it from here."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'll handle it."

"She's on duty in the east wing healing chambers," Lucien said carefully. "The best healer we have for poison."

The shadows around Azriel contracted violently, betraying the control he maintained over his face. One shadow tendril reached briefly toward the east wing before he brutally reined it back. "She doesn't see me, remember?"

"Perhaps if-"

"No." The word was final, though it cost him dearly to say it. "I'm not asking for her help when she's made her position clear."

Lucien sighed, running a hand through his russet hair. "Your pride will kill you."

"It's not pride," Azriel said quietly, shadows writhing. "It's respect for her choice."

He left the maps with Lucien and retreated to his small quarters at the edge of the Dawn Court grounds.

Today's gift for you was already prepared a small vial of rare Night Court starlight distilled into liquid form. When applied to wounds, it accelerated healing without scarring. Rhys had sent it at Azriel's request, no questions asked, though his High Lord surely wondered at the urgency.

Azriel wrapped the vial in midnight blue silk and penned a simple note.

For the burn patient in the east wing. Three drops in her evening tea will ease her pain. -A

He would leave it where Alis would find it. The head healer had become his unwitting accomplice in these deliveries, recognizing the value of his gifts even if she didn't understand their source.

Before that, though, he needed to tend to his wound.

The small chamber he'd been assigned was spartan, but he'd added one indulgence. A carved wooden stand beside the bed, displaying each of the gifts you had returned.

The silver flame bracelet. The healing salve. The rare book of ancient techniques. The carved flame bunnies.

Each one delivered back to his doorstep, sometimes within hours of your receiving them.

Each rejection a fresh wound, deeper than any blade could reach.

Yet still he created new gifts, still he left them where you would find them.

What was insanity, after all, but doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting different results?

Azriel removed his armor with careful movements, a strangled sound escaping him as dried blood made the leather stick to his wound. The gash along his ribs was ugly, the edges tinged with a greenish black that spoke of powerful toxins.

The vile magic of Autumn Court assassins designed to kill slowly, painfully. He cleaned it as best he could, applied what healing salves he had, and wrapped it in fresh bandages.

It would have to do.

His shadows whispered of your movements through the palace a benefit of the bond that remained even when you refused to acknowledge it.

You were finishing your shift in the healing chambers, tired after treating a particularly difficult case. Even exhausted, you moved with a grace that mesmerized him. The way your hands worked, sure and steady. The slight furrow between your brows when you concentrated. The scent of you healing herbs, dawn light and something uniquely, perfectly you.

Foolishly, pathetically, he wondered if you ever asked about the source of the mysterious gifts that continued to appear.

If you ever suspected they came from the same male who hunted in the night to keep Beron's assassins from your door. If you ever felt the bond tugging you toward him, as it constantly pulled him toward you.

The mating bond pulsed in his chest, a golden thread that stretched across the palace to where you worked. Once, he had feared it. He had rejected it with cruel words that he would spend eternity regretting.

Now, it was his only comfort, his only connection to you, even as it tore him apart from within.

When darkness fell, Azriel slipped through the palace to leave the vial where Alis would find it. His wound protested every movement, sending waves of agony through him with each heartbeat.

The shadows helped hold him upright when his own strength began to fail, weaving a cocoon of darkness around him that hid the worst of his deterioration.

The healing chambers were quiet this late, only a skeletal staff remaining for emergencies. Azriel's shadows guided him through blind spots in the guards' rotations, past dozing attendants, to the small office where Alis kept her records and supplies. The familiar scent of healing herbs surrounded him, but underneath was a trace of you you had been here recently.

He was placing the silk wrapped vial on her desk when a voice behind him froze him in place.

"Still leaving your little presents?" The words were sharp as winter frost.

Your voice.

For a moment, Azriel couldn't breathe, couldn't move. His shadows contracted around him in shock, then flared outward in response to the sudden hammering of his heart. Several tendrils reached instinctively toward you before he yanked them back.

Slowly, he turned.

You stood in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest like a shield. Your face was carefully blank, but your scent betrayed you. A volatile mix of anger, sorrow, and something sweeter, something that matched the golden bond still pulsing between you.

Even now, even refusing to look directly at him, you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The way the eternal dawn light caught in your hair. The stubborn set of your jaw. The slight tremor in your hands that you tried to hide by gripping your own arms tighter.

"I told Thesan to send you away," you said, your tone clipped and final. "Yet you linger like a ghost."

Azriel remained perfectly still, afraid any movement might shatter this moment the first time you'd spoken directly to him since that night in the garden.

"I know they're from you," you continued, your voice flat and empty of emotion. "All of them."

His shadows curled inward, as if trying to shield him from the blow. "They help your patients," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

"I don't need your charity." You picked up the vial from the desk and tossed it back at him. He caught it instinctively, though the movement sent a fresh wave of agony through his side. "I don't need anything from you."

"Beron has dispatched his elite guard," Azriel said, unable to keep the urgency from his voice. "Three strike teams converging on Dawn Court."

For a moment, something flickered in your expression annoyance, perhaps even contempt.

But your scent shifted, betraying a flash of genuine fear quickly suppressed. "I don't need your protection either."

"I already informed Lucien," he added quietly, even as the room began to tilt alarmingly. His shadows condensed around him, helping him remain upright.

"Then your usefulness has ended." You stepped aside, a clear dismissal. "You should go. Permanently."

Azriel didn't move. His side throbbed viciously, the poison working deeper with every heartbeat.

"Why do you say things no one understands?" The question escaped before he could stop it.

Your eyes narrowed, briefly flicking to his face before returning to the wall.

In that split second of eye contact, the bond flared painfully between you, and Azriel couldn't quite suppress his slight intake of breath.

"I don't owe you explanations."

"Screen doors on submarines," he said quietly. "Not your circus, not your monkeys. Houston having problems."

Your jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath your skin. Your scent changed again surprise mingled with something almost like embarrassment. "You've been spying on me."

"Protecting you," he corrected.

A shadow tendril escaped his control, reaching toward you before he could stop it. It brushed against your ankle for the briefest moment before he yanked it back, a silent apology in his eyes.

You tensed at the contact, the first crack appearing in your mask a flash of something that might have been recognition, might have been longing. It disappeared so quickly he thought he might have imagined it.

"I never asked for that." Your voice was ice, but your scent had warmed slightly. "I never asked for any of this."

Your gaze dropped momentarily to his side, where blood was now seeping through his leathers despite the fresh bandage. Something that might have been concern flashed across your face, quickly replaced by calculated indifference. But your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, a healer's instinct to help warring with your determination to remain distant.

"You're bleeding on Thesan's floor," you observed.

"It's nothing." The room spun again, and Azriel leaned imperceptibly against the desk.

"It's poisoned," you said flatly. "The servants will have to clean up after you. Again."

Those words cut deeper than the physical wound.

Azriel's face remained impassive, centuries of discipline keeping his pain from showing.

But his shadows betrayed him, contracting violently before lashing out at nothing, leaving frost patterns on the nearby window. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Don't apologize. Just leave." Your voice was final, brooking no argument. But your eyes darted again to his wound, lingering longer this time.

Azriel inclined his head slightly, accepting the dismissal.

He moved to leave, his shadows wrapped tightly around him like a shield. As he passed you in the doorway, careful not to let even his shadows brush against you again, a wave of dizziness struck. The poison reached his heart in that moment, sending a surge of burning agony through his entire body. He stumbled, one hand bracing against the wall.

For a heartbeat, your hand lifted slightly, an aborted gesture to help him. But you caught yourself, forcing your arm back to your side. Your scent shifted again concern fighting with resolve.

"The book of healing techniques," he said quietly, fighting to remain upright. "The section on poison extraction. Page ninety four."

"I don't need your advice on how to do my job," you replied coolly. But beneath the ice, there was a note of something else a question unasked.

Then he was gone, slipping into the darkness of the corridor, his shadows barely concealing his increasingly unsteady gait. As he rounded the corner, a small leather object dropped, landing silently on the floor. His journal, dislodged when he stumbled.

You watched him go, your expression never changing, your posture rigid and unyielding. Only when he had disappeared completely did you let your shoulders slump slightly, one hand rising to press against your chest where the mating bond pulsed. Only then did your mask slip, pain and conflict washing across your features.

You moved to follow the trail of his blood, something in you unable to let him die, no matter what he'd done. But as you stepped into the hallway, your foot caught on something. Looking down, you saw the small leather bound journal.

You picked it up, intending to leave it on the desk for him to find later.

But it fell open in your hands, revealing page after page of your strange sayings, carefully documented in his precise handwriting. Not just the words themselves, but observations the way your eyes lit up when you said certain phrases, the musical quality of your laugh, the exact pattern of your movements.

It wasn't the journal of a spy. It was the journal of someone who saw you really saw you in a way no one ever had before.

You slipped it into your pocket, your face returning to its mask of indifference as you made a choice. Not forgiveness not yet. But something close to understanding.

Back in his quarters, Azriel collapsed onto his bed, the toll of the night's injuries finally claiming their due. The missing journal was a distant concern as darkness closed in.

His skin burned from within, the poison reaching every extremity now. His shadows swirled helplessly around him, unable to fight an enemy they couldn't touch.

He wondered, as consciousness slipped away, if you would ever look at him truly look at him again. If you would ever ask him about submarines and Houston and all the other mysteries he'd collected like precious gems. If there would be a next gift at all, given the poison now burning through his veins.

The door to his quarters opened, letting in a shaft of perpetual dawn light.

A figure stood silhouetted there, familiar and beloved.

"You're an idiot," came your voice, still cold but now threaded with something else. "And this doesn't mean I forgive you."

His shadows swirled toward you, reaching, yearning, before he could stop them.

"But I won't let you die," you continued, approaching the bed with your healer's kit. "Not like this. Not before you find out what a submarine actually is."

His shadows curled protectively around him as he surrendered to unconsciousness, carrying his final thought like a prayer.

The cruelest part of immortality, he breathed, is knowing I might spend eternity remembering the moment I lost her.

we’ve got trauma, blood, reluctant healing, repressed feelings, and one journal full of submarine-related confusion. no one is okay. especially not me.

Author’s Note:

hi besties! :) welcome back to the emotional battlefield 💕 in this chapter: azriel cries (again), your flame bunnies commit light treason, and the bond is out here acting like a clingy ex with GPS.

please hydrate. scream into a pillow. tell azriel to stop bleeding on things. and remember: just because he’s broody and poetic doesn’t mean you have to forgive him. yet.

do I regret writing this chapter?

yes.

will I do it again?

also yes.

see you next chapter for more romantic pain and possibly an accidental kiss or full emotional collapse. who’s to say. 🫶💀🖤

Taglist: @circe143 @lunarxcity @willowpains @messageforthesmallestman @lreadsstuff @evye47 @lovely-susie @moonfawnx @tele86 @moonlitlavenders @darkbloodsly @ees-chaotic-brain @smol-grandpa @auraofathena @lottiiee413 @minaaminaa8 @claudiab22 @moonbeamruins @shewolf1549 @crimsonandwhiteprincess @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @kathren1sky-blog @alimarie1105 @masbt1218 @topaz125 @falszywe @randomdumsblog @sophia-grace2025 @okaytrashpanda @thegoddessofnothingness @unarxcity @svearehnn @suhke3 @galaxystern08 @ivy-34 @hellsenthero @nayaniasworld @raccoonworld @bobbywobbby @evergreenlark @greenmandm @shinyghosteclipse @catloverandreader @the-onlyy-angie @bunnboosblog @i-like-boooks @ashduv @kayjaywrites @lovelyreaderlovesreading @badbishsblog @vera0124 @i-am-infinite @scatteredstardustt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @chaotic-luvrs @etsukomoonbeam @justtryingtosurvive02 @dianxiaxiexie @annaaaaa88 @mortqlprojections @quiet-loser @shamelesswolftheorist @vanserrasimp @lovelyflower7777 @probendingwords @allthatisbuck1917 @thejediprincess56 @forvalentineboy @romwyz @plowden @jada-lockwood @traveling-neverland @wanderwithmex @magicaldragonlady @makemeurvillain @justswimm @saltedcoffeescotch @rafeecameronsbitch @sherhd @stainedpomegranatelips @ayohockeycheck @yourdarkrose @taurusvic @illyrianshadow @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @ly--canthrope @star-chaser1 @dormantzzzs

#acotar #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #thesan acotar

502 notes · View notes

thehighladywrites · 1 month ago

Text

“G-A-N-G, BABY LET ME B-A-N-G BABY! (LET ME FUCK SUM!)”

☆ pairing: acotar men x reader

☆ summary: submission? size difference? orgasm control? click keep reading to find out what the acotar men get turned on by!

☆ warnings: nsfw, 18+, just a fat warning that this will contain smut and nsfw themes, ig you don’t like it pls scroll!💜

☆ amara’s note: ’ello mates! enjoyyyy

rhysand

⤷ corruption

in rhysand’s eyes, you are the sweetest thing to ever exist—a breathtaking angel. he plays the part of a friendly confidant, but it’s all a deception. he knows how sheltered you were and knows how flustered you get whenever he’s shirtless. there’s no way to miss the way you avoid his gaze and lower your head, cheeks blushy. he loves the way you squirm and turn shy when he whispers the most dirty, scandalous words into your ear. he loves when you come to him for advice, only for him to twist and manipulate your thoughts, steering you straight into his arms. there’s nothing more he wants than to ruin every bit of innocence you have, to make you utterly dependent on him. Not to hurt you, never that but to corrupt you completely, simply because it turns him on like nothing else.

⤷ exhibitionism

rhysand’s fucking you. and that’s something he wants the whole world to see. he wants them to see the way you get needy when you make out, the way you let out little noises when he touches your body, the way your eyes roll back when he enters you. you’re his little fucktoy and he just couldn’t be more proud when you spread your legs for him infront of anyone. is it really his fault that the meetings get so fucking boring and repetitive? and is it really that wrong of him to stuff his fingers deep in your dripping little pussy and finger you til’ you pass out just out of plain boredom? NOOOOOO

cassian

⤷ dumbification plus aftercare

Cassian fucks you until your mind is nothing but mush, ’til you’re hearing static, until you’re soft and pliant in his arms, lost in the haze he’s pulled you into. He always knows the moment it happens, when your body goes limp, when your breathing slows, when you stop hearing anything at all. Even when he shakes you a little, you barely stir.

“I know you’re out of it, baby. I got you.”

He handles you with so much care, lifting you effortlessly, bathing you with slow, steady hands. You don’t react, just let him take care of you, completely gone in his grasp.

When he wraps you in the warmest, fluffiest towel, his chest tightens at the sight of you. tear-filled eyes, lashes stuck together, looking up at him with that vacant, dopey little smile.

Only then does he relax. Because you trust him, even like this. So vunerable and sweet.

To Cassian there’s like nothing more intimate than aftercare. Like he is so fucking into it and he loves to do it that is kinda an obsession for him. It’s just in his nature to be caring for you.

⤷ praise

kinda goes hand in hand with the previous one. i actually don’t think he’d even want to degrade you. you want to be so good for him, to get praise, because there’s nothing better than cassian’s praise. i mean, you’re always so good to him, so of course he’s letting you know what a sweet and lovely girl you are anyway. and of course he’ll tell you how immensely proud of you he is when you take aaaaaall of his inches, never complaining once. You’ll hear a good girl here, and a that’s my girl there. And Gods if that doesn’t make your entire day.

⤷ size kink

guys this is such an obivous one. literally no matter your size, huncho over here will be bigger. he enjoys it too, like he’s obsessed with how much bigger he is than you. this is one of those times ‘just the tip’ really is enough. but he’s careful, like super duper careful bc he knows he can hurt you if he’s careless. also, his hands are huge like fucking massive. sometimes he uses his fingers and they reach deeeeeep and they fill you out deliciously. other times he folds you in half and presses you into the meanest mating press ever! your body’s folded in half as he jackhammers into you like a beast. this position just gives him the most perfect view of your difference. also he’s the type who will say he’ll make it fit if you complain or worry

azriel

⤷ oral

EATER EATER EATER

god i just know he gives the BEEEEST head. a pussy-eating champion really. he loves the feeling of your warm thighs smushing him as he laps at your clit whilst pumping his fingers along your gummy walls. he mostly does this for himself, okay? like it’s not even his fault that he gets off on your sounds or the way your fingers find their way into his hair or the way you drag your manicured nails over his sensitive scalp. he might have a sliiiiightly selfish side but still.

⤷ overstimulation

azriel holds a vibrator to your clit until you can’t even cry anymore. like it’s just all too much! you’re skin stickin to the sheets, your heart’s beatin too fast and you feel oh soooo good. maybe a bit too good. but azriel likes the way you come over and over again, a painful pleasure you’re not really saying no to. and obviously he isn’t a monster, you do have a safeword, but it’s one you’re so not gonna be using anytime soon tho…

⤷ risky sex

i think azriel is super into risky sex. wanna know why? because are you telling me he wouldn’t love the thrill of being caught? like he knows he’ll never be caught, duh, he’s the spymaster but still. like you’re so worried when he’s fucking you in the hallway, i mean, anyone can just walk by and see you practically bent over some decorative table. God forbid anyone catches you like this but he just doesn’t worry. He likes the thrill because he knows he’ll wait until the last possibly second before winnowing away. Like if he hears footsteps, he’ll wait until he can practically see the other person before disappearing. talk about adrenaline kick.

Eris

⤷ Casual Dominance

This man is so casually dominant it doesn’t even register at first, you’re just too into him. Eris is 100% in charge of you and your life, but not in a creepy way. He picks out your outfits, styles your hair, makes sure you eat, and just generally keeps an eye on you. If you’re about to do something dumb (or just not great for you), he doesn’t argue—he just smoothly steers you in the right direction, like if you’re procrastinating homework, he’ll make sure you’re done by the end of the day. also he guides you through the streets, you don’t even have to use your brain with him. he just fixes everything and he leads your every move.

⤷ brat taming

Since we’re on the subject, let’s get into the fun part—because let’s be real, Eris loves order and he sure likes to set you straight. Like he’d ever pass up a chance to put you in your place. For example👀:

“You don’t like the food? Want me to order you something else?” he asks when he catches you staring at your plate instead of eating. He’s already cut your steak, sliding it over like he always does, waiting for you to eat.

You just sigh, pick up your wine, and down it in one go before reaching for the bottle. As expected, Eris catches your wrist before you can pour another.

“One glass is enough for tonight.”

You roll your eyes and, just to be a menace, grab his glass instead—draining it while holding eye contact.

His eyes narrow. “Be a big girl and spit it out, baby. What’s the matter?”

“Dunno. Maybe ask Jenny, you seem to get along just fine. Actually, why don’t you just date her? Fuck her while you’re at it.”

Eris wanted to sigh so loudly, but he knew that would only piss you off more. The waitress? Not even a thought in his mind. Sure, he noticed her flirty eyes and lovestruck smile, but that’s all it was, an observation. He’d ignored her completely, yet here you were, fuming. Like he’d ever cheat on you.

His jaw ticks as he drops two hundred dollar bills before standing up and speaking with scary calm. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

GOOD LUCK :D

Lucien

⤷ hair pulling

oh my god his hair is his weakness. like as soon as you run your hands through his hair he turns into mush and literally melts. i swear if he was a cat, he’d purr. sometimes if you scratch his scalp the right way, it can lead into the sloppiest, messiest makeout session ever. and when you’re in the middle of it, pull it. istg you’ll leave pregnant

⤷ dirty talk

king of talking reaaaaal nasty. like omg he could make a sailor blush. he’ll get so close to you, whispering in your ear and you get all hot and bothered and ticklish. other men might be quiet in bed BUT NOT THIS GUY. literally doesn’t stop talking and it just fuels him on like crazyyyy. and if you try to talk dirty back, he’ll sit there with the biggest grin and just hear you out.

⤷ roleplay

c’mon he’s a lil freak. he’s into tons of kinks like i think he likes to explore a lot too. butttt lucien and roleplay??👀👀 JACKPOTT!! he won’t say no to anything and is more of a try everything once kinda guy. him being a hot guard and you’re a princess he can’t have. imagine the hot taboo sex😈 or barmaid x customer, boss x secretary, enemies who fuck oh my god

786 notes · View notes

itsswritten · 1 year ago

Text

when the sea calls for three | intro

Paring: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: In the aftermath of war, peace reigns over the realms of Prythian, but the delicate balance hangs in the hands of two unlikely mediators—You and Lucien. As the newly appointed Emissaries of Peace, your duty is clear: maintain alliances, foster understanding between courts, and navigate the intricate webs of fae politics.

But when fate deals an unexpected twist, revealing that you possess not one, but two mates, the tranquillity you've worked so hard to uphold is suddenly threatened. Caught between two males who refuse to share, you find yourself thrust into a precarious position, torn between duty and desire.

What will you do and who will you choose?

I need you.

Those three words were all it took.

༄

In the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the room, flickering reflections of pinks and purples across the walls. Dawn Court had always been radiant, the sky, cobalt and rose. A sunrise all day long. You were proud to call it your home.

You stood before the ornate mirror, fingers delicately adjusting the intricate buttons of your tunic.

The decision to choose neutral clothing had been yours, a deliberate choice born from the realisation of what your new role weighed. You were to be a mediator, a peacekeeper, it only seemed fitting to don a uniform that symbolised your neutrality and dedication to maintaining balance among the realms.

The fabric shimmered with a subtle elegance, adorned with delicate motifs that whispered of the courts you now served. The tapestry of symbolism spoke something that words could not, of a new beginning, a new chapter– a time of peace.

The design along the back of your tunic, three majestic mountains rose proudly, their peaks reaching towards the heavens. Behind them, the sun emerged, casting its golden rays that spread warmth and light– a nod to your home.

In the left above, a fully fleshed sun beamed down upon the mountains, radiating its brilliance and vitality. To the right, three stars and a crescent moon were sewn with meticulous care, representing the rest of the solar courts and their celestial splendour.

On your left sleeve, leaves were hand stitched along your cuff, bronze thread danced in a graceful swirl, climbing upwards towards your elbow, mirroring the silver icy shards that adorned the right sleeve. Autumn and Winter in perfect harmony.

Around your collar, a delicate pattern of vines and roses intertwined, symbolising the beauty and vitality of the Spring Court's bloom. And along the trimmings of the tunic's bottom, waves swirled in a mesmerising dance, evoking the Summer Court's boundless energy and fluidity.

Your tunic jacket cascaded gracefully, halting just at your hips, while beneath it, a long, flowing cream pleated skirt billowed elegantly to the floor. With your hair initially draping freely, you gently pulled it forward, ensuring the intricate details adorning the back of your tunic were given their rightful moment to shine.

As you smoothed the fabric, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the role you had been given. Playing a bridge between courts, and worlds. A mediator between the people.

Politics had never really been something you relished in, but you were good with people, and good with your words. Qualities that your friend desperately convinced you, were integral to this role.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your reverie, and you turned to see Lucien, your friend, standing in the doorway. His mechanical eye wiring at the sight of you. He was wearing a similar tunic, one that was longer on his body but mirrored the designs of your own.

It was Lucien who had told you he needed you.

I need you.

He had written to you one evening. His correspondences were usually lighthearted and filled with friendly banter, but this weighed heavily in a way that was so unlike him.

“I could really use your help.” Lucien had breathed, when you came to visit after his letter.

I need you. I need my friend. I need someone to lean on. I need someone to laugh with. It’s been too long. I miss you.

Was what you heard. His message had been simple yet poignant, a plea for assistance and companionship.

You had always had a way with words and sounds. Understanding the gaps in between the breaths, the underlying emotions and intentions woven into each syllable. Most didn't realise what could be revealed in their words. How the octaves and melodic tones of their tongues sung of unspoken truths.

Lucien and you had shared a friendship that spanned many years, reaching back to your earliest memories of childhood. As children and teens, you had been inseparable, playmates in a time that now felt like a distant memory. However, when borders grew stricter and tensions mounted, those days were abruptly halted.

It wasn't until the dark days of Amarantha's reign that fate brought you back together, through the intervention of Nuan, a mutual friend. She was a skilled Alchemist of your court, who had aided Lucein in his healing, crafting his beautiful golden eye. And because he was no longer a part of Autumn, you were able to reconnect and your friendship flourished, even if it was predominantly through ink and parchment.

"Ready to face them?" he asked with a tight smile, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

I’m nervous. Is what you heard under his words.

You returned his smile with a nod, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Of course, I was born ready Lucie” you replied, effortlessly flicking his nickname with a casual ease.

Despite having a smart mouth now, Lucien was a name you often got tongue-tied in your younger years. Lucie had been a much easier sound to make, and you didn’t hesitate to use the endearing name when wanting to tease.

Lucien rolled his eyes, but your casual demeanour softened the nerves that had laced his previous words. That had been your intention.

Just one example of how your intuition always left you saying the right thing. Of course there were times this didn’t happen, but those occasions were extremely rare.

“We should decide which courts reside under our care before the meeting” Lucien began, striding in front of the mirror to adjust his own tunic. “And I have to say you’ve made more progress with Tamlin these past two months than I have in the past year," Lucien breathed, a hint of admiration in his voice while he smiled at you through the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "What, like it was hard?"

Tamlin's stubbornness had been a challenge, but your natural charisma and persuasion had proven effective in bridging the gap between his court and the others. His residents had at least started returning home, and thanks to your work, there was actually something for them to return to.

You huffed, before turning your friend around, pulling at his collar to adjust. Before tidying up his long auburn hair.

"I can’t do both though Lucien. I'm not dealing with your brothers and Tamlin. That's too much, even for me” You remarked.

Lucien’s relationship with his brothers remained strained, the scars of their shared trauma running deep. Despite Beron’s demise, Eris was now Autumn’s High Lord. The brothers wounds were not so easily healed, and the weight of their history continued to cast a shadow over their interactions.

“Plus I do believe some forced proximity may do you and Tamlin some good” you pointed a look at him, referencing their damaged friendship.

Lucien bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at you. He couldn’t help but envy how effortlessly you seemed to navigate the complexities of every situation, every conversation. Always knowing the right words to say, and the right actions to take. Qualities that had undoubtedly drawn him to seek your assistance in the first place.

Qualities he forgot he would also be susceptible to.

"I'll look after Autumn and your hotheaded brothers. You deal with the depressed blondie," you suggested, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Fine," Lucien conceded, begrudgingly acknowledging the wisdom in your words.

“I want Dawn, it’s my home and Thesan would be heartbroken if I wasn’t his courtier,” you asserted confidently.

"Then I'll have Day," Lucien negotiated, a hint of determination in his tone.

As the conversation turned to the remaining courts, you paused, considering the options carefully. The Night Court held a particular significance for Lucien, given his mate's presence there, but you were keenly aware of the tension that still lingered between them.

"I can take Night if that helps. I've already been the one updating their Spymaster recently anyway," you offered, your voice steady as you finally finished straightening up Lucien. Pulling your hands swiftly behind your back.

He mirrored your pose "Then I will manage Winter," Lucien conceded, a sense of resignation colouring his words. He wasn’t very fond of the cold, but neither were you.

But he was happy to take this one for you, as you had taken Autumn and Night for him.

"Summer is mine. You can have the humans, your Band of Rejects or whatever they're called," you remarked playfully.

"Exiles," Lucien corrected with a humorous purr, a brief flicker of amusement softening his eyes.

“Apologies…band of exile…-d rejects” you humoured, before you felt him nudge you with his shoulder.

Your soft laughs filled the room before you tilted your head to look at your dearest friend “Look at you now. Exiled no more. Mr. Emissary of Peace”

Lucien smiled proudly at the title, he had come a long way. This new chapter for Phrytian was daunting, but he was grateful to have you by his side “You ready?”

With a nod you grinned wide “Let’s go peacekeep the fuck out of them Lucie!”

Next Part >>

a/n: Eeeekkkk so here's a little intro to set the tone and roles! Just a little disclaimer, there will be a few things in this series that haven't happened in the books, but it works for the plot. Only small things, so just go with it please! Excited to share this story with you all <3 - Lottie x

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #eris x azriel #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x reader x azriel #eris x y/n #eris x you #azriel x eris

391 notes · View notes

florencemtrash · 1 year ago

Text

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Shadow

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Angst (specifically a very angsty Azriel)

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel gripped his glass so tightly in his fist he wondered if it would shatter.

Another year gone. Another year without you. Another year where the guilt ate at his stomach and heart so fiercely he wondered if he was hollow on the inside.

Azriel! WAIT! No! Please, no! AZ! HELP ME!

“Azriel.” Cassian’s voice brought him back to reality, a reality where he sat at an empty booth looking murderous as he tried to drown out the past with his ninth drink of the night.

“Cass.” He said stiffly. His voice was as steady and clear as if he hadn’t drank at all. Cassian could never tell if it was because the alcohol didn’t affect him, or because he was incredible at faking sobriety - either was possible when it came to Az.

“This is the fourth night in a row.”

“You’re perceptive. You should take my job.” Azriel’s voice was so dead and emotionless it frightened him.

“Stop this and come home.” Cassian said, almost begging.

Azriel grit his teeth and said nothing, downing the rest of his drink and silently gesturing to the bar for another one. When the drink came, Cassian snatched it up first. Maybe the drinks had affected him, because on any other day, Azriel could strike faster than lightning.

“Rhysand has a job for you.” He said, pulling on the small collection of words guaranteed to bring some life to his brother.

Azriel’s spine snapped straight and Cassian flinched at how quickly his brother - brooding and sarcastic as he may be - was replaced by The Shadowsinger.

“What’s the job?”

Find Bryaxis. Those were the two words that had sent Azriel flying into the night sky and across all of Prythian, chasing after the demon that had eluded them since the end of the war against Hybern.

For over a decade they’d all held their breath when it came to the ancient creature. For over a decade they’d been plagued by more pressing matters than a beast who seemed content to remain hidden and out of mind. Still, Azriel hadn’t forgotten about him. No, he was like a loose thread on a piece of clothing - forever destined to tug and unravel at Azriel’s shortening patience and sanity.

Nesta had felt something. Something she wasn’t sure of - Bryaxis looming over all of Prythian like a shadow before curling up into a sliver of smoke and disappearing for good.

They’d written to Elain to see if she had seen anything through her Eye, but she’d also been experiencing blind spots in her vision. The future was always full of events, some malleable and some concrete, but it was more unclear than ever before - like someone had shattered a mirror and she was left to string the pieces back together.

Azriel shook his head, emptying his mind of thoughts of Elain. It would do him no good. Thoughts concerning Elain were painful enough now that she’d left the Night Court… they were made even worse because they always traced their way back to you. Like how rivers must always find their way back to the sea, Azriel found himself drawn back to memories of you, so bright and full of heat they blinded and burned him. Your smile, your laugh, the grim determination on your face as you stared him down during sparring matches. You’d been his anchor without him even knowing it.

And now you were gone. And it was all his fault.

Stupid, stupid fool. He hissed at himself.

Threads of information concerning Bryaxis were sparse and limited, but Azriel chased after them all, finding himself deep within the gleaming workshops of Dawn, the silent and cherished libraries of Day, and the sea-whipped bellies of Summer Court ships before finally tracing Bryaxis to the Autumn Court.

This has to be handled delicately. It is imperative that no one discovers you.

Azriel saw Rhysand’s familiar graceful penmanship, read the words, and immediately crushed the note in his hand, casting it into the dying fire. The paper folded and crumpled from the heat before turning to ash.

He huddled down in the mountains that crossed the line between Winter and Autumn, grateful to be free from the cutting winds. Beyond the frozen lake were rolling hills of bejeweled forest. He wouldn’t risk flying now. From here he’d travel through shadows and by foot, getting as close to the Forest House as he dared.

If his intuition was right (and it so often was), if Eris knew Bryaxis was within the borders of his court, he would keep him close. Close enough to monitor, close enough to kill if need be. But what The High Lord of Autumn would want with Bryaxis, Azriel had no idea.

With the issue of succession dealt with and Eris planted on the High Lord’s seat, there came less and less of a need to continue relations between Autumn and Night, at least between Autumn and the Court of Dreams. After the war and until a month ago, nearly all of Eris’s dealings had been with Keir and the Court of Nightmares. Rhysand wanted to change that, and that meant if Azriel wanted to search for Bryaxis in Autumn, he would have to do it in secret. Eris would sooner pluck out his eyes than let any member of the Inner Circle scour his lands voluntarily.

Azriel traveled from town to town, inching ever closer to the Forest House, which curled up beneath the earth like a sleeping giant. That was the issue with the Forest House - hardly anyone knew the size of it, and that meant Azriel could be walking above a watchguard stronghold and not realize until it was too late.

Something stirred within him when he reached one of the Forest House border towns. Everywhere people seemed brighter, livelier than when Beron had been alive, but this place… this place was filled with an uncharacteristic casualness and joy. The marketplace bustled with activity even in the early morning. Plump fruits, freshly baked bread, and sticky treacle candies wrapped in wax paper were laid out with care on hand-built carts decorated with golden chrysanthemums and sunflowers.

You would have loved this place.

No. This wasn’t what he’d come for. He’d come to distract himself with work and to find Bryaxis.

Azriel slipped up the trees and settled in between two arching branches, straining his ears to hear the talk that went on below. His shadows slithered out to gather information his senses couldn’t reach.

“Faula’s with child, can you imagine! After so-”

“Thirty?! Why, how could you charge so much! The High Lo-”

“Four dozen eggs, two pounds of flour, six slabs of butter, and-”

“Will Our Lady be coming?”

Azriel’s ears pricked up, blocking out the hushed conversation that went on around the pair of females who sat on milk crates and peeled apples under the cover of a thatched roof. The crisp sound of a knife sliding between fruit and peel followed by the thunk of a cored apple dropping into a barrel was a soft rhythm to Azriel’s ears.

“To ours?! Good gods, Rebessa, to think that she’d spend the harvest here.”

“She lives close by. It’s not as though we’re strangers to her and she’s wonderfully kind!”

“I hear she’s been invited elsewhere.”

The female gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. “Elsewhere?”

“Elsewhere.”

“Do you think he’ll-”

“Shhhhh. You mustn’t say anything. I’m not even supposed to know.”

“Well how’d you find out?”

“Syndra says he’s been visiting jewelers and carpenters every week. He could be preparing a new room… or a bridal chest.”

“About time! And will he be going with her?”

“He follows wherever Our Lady goes.”

“Shame. He was unnerving, but welcome. Haven’t lost a sheep or hen in ages.”

They continued on, whispering between their bowed heads of matching ruby-colored hair. Autumn Court members were crafty and secretive by nature, an unfortunate byproduct of existing beneath the thumbs of one brutal and cunning High Lord after another. But it would seem their tongues had loosened in the years since Eris had come into his power.

Our Lady.

Elsewhere.

He.

Azriel rolled the words around in his mind like a rough-cut stone in a tumbler, then set off to find the “he” who followed this Lady wherever she went.

As he slipped through the village, searching for a home that would be fit enough for a Lady of Autumn, there were two things he noticed. First, the stirring in his chest had grown stronger, like the pulling of the sea as it went out with the tide or the beating of a firefly’s wings against glass. Second, for a town of this size, even one that lay so close to the Forest House, there were only a handful of guards left to trot around atop their horses and an additional handful that patrolled the paths to the fields on foot. Whoever this Lady was, she offered them enough protection and power that Eris would willingly leave it vulnerable - at least in appearance.

Azriel’s nerves sparked with interest, his heart thrumming with the adrenaline that came with staying hidden. It was like a game of sorts. A game of how far he could go, how deep into a court could he burrow, how many secrets he could steal from tight lips without getting caught.

When he came across the cottage beyond the borders of town, nothing but the faint trail made by footsteps and horse hooves hinting at its existence through the break in the treeline, he was unimpressed. No wave of power rushed over him. No hunting dogs or other monsters were posted at the door. The only thing that strengthened, and had continued to strengthen as he neared this place, was that fluttering tightness in his chest.

He couldn’t tell if it was his instincts on edge or a bad omen of what was to come.

There was a flat, empty stretch of land from the treeline to the front door. He called upon his shadows, drawing his power over himself to hide as he slinked across the grass soundlessly. His feet knew where to step, his lungs knew when to take breath, until suddenly he was at the side door. A peek in through the window confirmed his suspicions.

There was no one here.

He pressed his fingertips to the walls of the house, feeling the magic splinter outward like a ripple on a still lake. It was an unassuming, but powerful spell that wrapped around the house like a second skin. But Azriel was craftier than that, poking for weak spots in the magic and finding an opening in the chimney.

He broke through the veil of magic, slipped into the darkness, and emerged on the other side inside the house.

It was the smell that dropped him to his knees, the scent of witch hazel, rosemary oil, and oranges, clean and bright and warm all at the same time.

It smelled like you.

All thoughts of his mission and staying hidden at all costs were wiped from his mind. Now he searched for you.

He walked as if in a trance, finding pieces of you everywhere. He found you in the half-drunken mug of tea sweetened with honey and lavender syrup on the kitchen counter. He found you in the embroidery on the curtains - dainty flowers and vines used to patch up the holes and scratches with a personal touch. He found you in the fingerprints that stained the outer leaves of the books on the table.

All these small things spoke a truth he hadn’t dared hope for in over a decade.

You were still alive.

He whirled around, searching the space with desperation for any further signs of you. But the house was empty and still, pieces of furniture missing like you’d been preparing to leave.

You slipped into your house, pressing a finger against your lips in warning to Bryaxis.

Stay silent.

The monster obeyed, his neck twisting to the side at an unnatural angle as his body grew in size, shadowy flesh warping and stretching until he’d taken the form of a bear.

Your eyes turned black. Power whispering at the edges of your mind just waiting to be called upon. You flexed your hands, calling your sword from the ether and feeling its familiar weight drop into your palm.

There was a stranger in your home. A male from the looks of his build and height. He rummaged through the drawers by the door, deft fingers pulling out letters and keys while his other hand gripped his weapon.

You aimed the sword in the center of their back, tracing their spine with your eyes and pressing it against the space between two vertebrae, right at the root of their lungs.

“Drop the sword.” You commanded, pressing harder. The blade sliced through the layers of leather armor with ease. A wrong move, too deep a breath, and you’d slice through their spinal cord and leave them paralyzed on the floor.

Azriel’s heart hammered away in his chest and the feeling there twisted and ate away at him. Turn around. The voice commanded. Look at her.

His hold on his sword went slack, the metal singing before it clattered onto the floor. Without being asked, he unsheathed Truth-Teller, dropped it to the floor and slid the weapon back towards you, holding his breath as your boot stopped the ancient blade in its tracks with a solid thump.

You hadn’t recognized him. How could you? It was unnatural to see him in undyed leather armor and his raven black hair was tucked beneath a matching hood. The rich browns of the amour whispered of Autumn. He must have stolen it shortly after crossing the border into your court. But Truth-Teller? There was no mistaking it.

You grabbed him by the back of his jacket, spun him around, and slammed him against the wall before ripping off the hood with a snarl. The cool touch of your blade against his throat and between the slats of his ribs couldn’t stop what he knew was coming.

The bond burst to life and burned within his chest, swooping and singing like a bird off a cliffside. It was a breath of fresh air. An answer to all his maddening questions.

“Hello Y/n.” His voice rang out in the house, deep and dark and all too familiar.

You froze, eyes blowing wide open as you tightened your hold on the knife and sword until your knuckles turned white.

Aside from the clothes he didn’t look any different from the last time you’d seen him. Same black hair, same hazel eyes that shone a million different colors, same beautiful, sculpted face spoiled by an uncharacteristic look of shock and awe.

He looked the same as he did on the day he handed you over to Beron.

You for Elain.

You in exchange for the female he loved.

The betrayal still stung like salt rubbed into a fresh wound.

Fury set your blood boiling and you answered its call, drawing back and slamming your fist into the side of his jaw so hard you felt something crack and split.

Azriel fell to the ground, catching himself on one hand as the other flew up to his jaw.

Dislocated.

He popped it back into place, wiping his mouth and seeing his hand come away red with blood.

Azriel’s heart threatened to stop in his chest. His eyes crawled over the sight of you, hungry and desperate for every inch of proof that you stood before him. Your eyes were alight, brighter than any fire the world could set ablaze. Everything about you was wide and full of feeling as you stood above him,

Inside his chest, the mate bond continued to purr happily, refusing to be silenced.

“Y/n.” He said again. The words fell like a prayer from his lips. “You’re alive.”

“No thanks to you.”

Bryaxis growled in agreement from your side, lips pulling back to expose teeth stronger than metal and smooth as porcelain. Azriel’s eyes flickered down to him in surprise before going back to you.

“Bryaxis. You’re his master now.” A flash of pride warmed his chest. Leave it to you to take control of one of the most dangerous monsters in existence. Cassian would lose his mind when he found out.

Again, the creature growled, this time in disgust.

At the mention of the creature you’d come to consider a worthy friend you snapped out of your stupor and pointed the sword at his chest, just beneath his sternum, pressing down. Any more force and you’d break skin. Angle it upwards and push and you’d reach his heart.

“Y/n, please.” He begged. It was another shock to your system. You’d never heard him beg for anything.

“What do you want?” The words came out hard and trembling.

“I came to find Bryaxis and bring him back to the Night Court. I… I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Obviously. And yet you’re in my house. Uninvited, might I add.” There was an edge to your voice that hadn’t been there before, a harder gleam to your eyes despite everything else remaining the same. There were some scars that did not write themselves onto skin.

“I… How did you survive?”

Your lips tightened and turned pale, “Are you shocked? Disappointed?”

Azriel flinched. Your words may as well have been another blow to his face. The flesh around his jaw was beginning to bruise, shifting from an inflamed red to a mottled purple.

“No!” Azriel lifted his hands up in surrender. “We searched for you. We searched for you for weeks… You have to believe me.” You searched his eyes for an answer, expecting to be met with his usual unreadable expression. But you found the exact opposite. He seemed… lost. Like he didn’t know what to do with himself. If you didn’t know better you would say the Shadowsinger looked frightened.

“I’m sorry.” he gasped, “For everything.”

It was too late for apologies. Far too late. You told him as much.

“I know,” Azriel swallowed thickly, “I know.” He said again, quieter this time. Something within him dimmed.

“Bryaxis isn’t coming with you.” You said, breaking the silence and finally taking the pressure of your sword off his chest. Azriel moved back onto his feet as swift and strong as a river. “Now get out.”

You turned your back to him, shrugging off the uncomfortable feelings that weighed on your shoulders. You’d be happier when he was long gone.

“You can run back to Rhys and tell him you failed.”

“Y/n-” His hand brushed against your arm, willing you to look at him again. And you did. You whirled on him in an instant, shoving him back with the hilt of your sword.

“Don’t touch me.” You growled. He flinched again like he’d been burned.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I-” He scrambled for words that wouldn’t come. Anything to hold on to you for a little while longer, “Why didn’t you come back to the Night Court? Why didn’t you come home?”

A stupid question to which he already knew the answer.

“That was never my home and there’s nothing left for me there.”

Azriel shook his head, hair shining like a raven’s wing in flight, “That’s not true.”

I’m there. He sent his pleas through the bond. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been waiting for you for years… for my whole life.

“It is true.”

“And there’s more for you here?” Azriel asked quietly. “You live here on your own, no friends, no family.”

“I didn’t have friends or family in the Night Court either.” You weren’t going to tell him about Eris or Halvor or the others. He didn’t have any right to that knowledge, “You proved that when you traded me away to Beron.”

Azriel tipped his head forward, closing his eyes to the feeling of shame that weighed him down.

Azriel! WAIT! No! Please, no! AZ! HELP ME!

“It was Rhys and I who made the decision. The others didn’t know. Don’t hate them for what we did.”

Your laugh came out like a sharp bark, “I have a hard time believing that.”

If the circumstances were different, he might have pulled down the neck of his shirt and shown you the thin scar on his shoulder, courtesy of Nesta stabbing him with a kitchen knife after she’d learned what he’d done. She would have gone for a second attempt if it hadn’t been for Cassian. He’d dragged her away screaming and crying.

“It’s true. I swear it.” Azriel whispered.

You didn’t say more, didn’t give him the satisfaction of continuing the conversation. His eyes burned into you, moving across your body with a lover’s touch like you were a well and he was looking to drown.

Before you would have melted under his gaze. Before you’d wanted nothing more than to see him look at you this intently. Things had changed.

“I’ll give you an hour to leave these lands. If you’re not long gone by then, I’ll send Bryaxis after you.”

The creature bristled with excitement, teeth bared in a terrifying smile.

“Y/n-” Azriel begged. “Please. The others-”

“I don’t care about the others.” Your voice cracked and you hated yourself for it.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe or don’t believe.”

“Y/n…” He knew you were serious about your threat and that time was ticking, but he needed to see you again. He needed it like flame needs oxygen. “The others didn’t know…”

To your surprise he dropped down to one knee in front of you, eyes tilted towards the ground.

“I hate what I did to you. I hate that I hurt you and.. And I know…” He swallowed thickly, “I know I don’t deserve any kindness or forgiveness, but at least let the others see you… Let them visit,” He added after a short pause, “In Autumn, if that’s what you want.”

“Get out, Azriel.”

To hear you say his name broke the dam on old memories, painful and numerous. Memories of you screaming out for him to help you when Beron’s men strapped the ashwood chains around your wrists and ankles. Screams begging him to take you home. Anywhere other than Autumn. Anywhere other than under Beron’s thumb.

Azriel! WAIT! No! No, no, no, no, no. Please, no! AZ! HELP ME!

“Please. Consider it.” Azriel murmured. You turned away from him, looking at the engraved clock on the wall. Every tick tock of its hands felt like a death knell.

“They’ll be glad to know you’re alive and safe… more than you know.”

You said nothing, heard nothing as he took his things and slipped out of your house. But you felt his absence like a stone in your stomach. It wasn’t until Bryaxis nudged your waist that all the anger, sadness, and longing crashed in around you. You broke down on the floor, and began to sob into Bryaxis’s side.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

Yeahhhhhh, Azriel fucked up. But I feel like this would be in character for him? He gets fixated on the people in his life that he's able to 'save' (i.e., Mor and Elain) and especially because of the whole '3 sisters for 3 brothers' thing, I think he would be willing to make big sacrifices to save Elain if it came down to it... but perhaps I'm wrong. I would be curious to hear other people's opinions on it.

Anyhow, sorry for the sad and angsty chapter.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris acotar #high lord eris #autumn court #the night court #the inner circle #the inner circle x reader #eris x reader x azriel

406 notes · View notes

prythianslibrary · 11 months ago

Text

This is @prythianpages. You can find my writing here. I made this little slide blog for all the fics I read & love so I can go back to them ❤️

Heads up, I do reblog things from other fandoms from time to time. I also tag all my posts so if you're looking for something particular, click on the links below:

A C O T A R

Rhysand | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Lucien | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Tamlin | fluff | smut

Helion | fluff | smut

Tarquin | fluff | smut

J J K

Kento Nanami | fluff | smut | angst | personal favs

Saturo Gojo

Toji Fushiguro

O T H E R S E R I E S

Aaron Warner

divider by @cafekitsune

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #eris x reader #lucien x reader

2K notes · View notes

inkedinshadows · 21 days ago

Text

Double-edged Desires

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves having to share a mate, and being away during the mating frenzy is never easy. For any one of you.

Warnings: smut, threesome, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, language

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: based on this request! Okay so, this turned into so much more than planned... I've never written Azriel and Eris together before tho, so for every Azris shipper out there, pls have mercy on me, but I actually like how it turned out. Especially cus I wasn't planning on anything beyond bickering and arguing for them and I fear I might have focused too much on them and not enough on y/n... and I didn't reread that many times, so excuse possible typose. Anyway okay bye enjoy <3

Azriel hated sharing a mate with Eris Vanserra.

It had been a shock to everyone when you discovered you had two mating bonds—with two very different males who couldn’t stand each other. They had argued at first over who should get to be with you, but you had been very adamant: you wouldn’t choose between them, and you would accept both bonds instead. The only thing left for them to do was accept your decision and try to make it work, doing their best to get along for your sake.

They had come to one important agreement: you always came first. In every situation. Your well-being, your happiness, your pleasure—all of it was their priority.

Which was why they had decided one of them should always be with you, especially now, during the first few weeks since your double mating ceremony, when the frenzy still hadn’t entirely passed.

But war and threats and death gods couldn’t be postponed, not even for you, and neither of them could refuse when they had to leave you for a few days to try to track down Koschei. They hadn’t talked much unless it was to discuss theories or mention you, but Azriel knew that, just like him, Eris was struggling.

Being away from you was a weight he could barely carry, and the frenzy only made it worse. Searching for clues and information helped, but when he lay down at night with nothing to do but think of you, Azriel would just stare at the ceiling for hours. It was the same for Eris—his shadows confirmed it in a whisper.

They could have helped each other, he supposed. After all, in the throes of passion, despite their focus on you, they had shared touches, kisses, sometimes more. And Azriel had long since stopped trying to convince himself he hadn’t enjoyed it. But he’d be damned before admitting it out loud. He was willing to bet it was the same for Eris, if his reactions to Azriel’s touch were any indication.

So they had spent days craving the touch of their mate—both of them knowing they could find some relief in each other and yet too stubborn to ask for it.

All that pent-up need and tension came crashing to the surface the moment they finally returned home and silently opened the door to your shared bedroom.

You were lying in bed, arms wrapped around your pillow, the sheets crumpled around your feet. A gentle breeze drifting in through the open window rustled the curtains, and the moonlight gave you an ethereal look as it bathed your sleeping form.

Your naked, sleeping form.

The sight was enough to stir a familiar hunger deep in Azriel’s core. His hand flexed at his side as if itching to reach out and touch you, and his Illyrian leathers were suddenly far too tight around his groin.

“Someone’s needy,” Eris whispered beside him, a tantalizing smirk curving his lips as always.

Azriel glanced at him—at the obvious bulge in his pants. “You’re one to talk.”

Eris’s annoying smirk only widened as he turned to face him. “Should we wake her?”

“No.” Azriel shot him a glare. “She’s sleeping.”

“Oh, come on, Shadowsinger.” Eris rolled his eyes. “She’s naked. We both know she doesn’t like sleeping that way. You really think it doesn’t mean anything?”

He knew Eris was right. It wasn’t hot enough yet to justify the open window, the discarded sheets, the lack of clothes. You were probably dealing with the same problem that had plagued him on the continent—surges of heat caused by the frenzy, which you usually handled by spending a good couple of hours locked inside with your mates. But they’d been away too long.

Eris took a step toward the bed, but Azriel shot out a hand and grabbed his arm to stop him. The redhead twirled around, an almost feral look in his amber eyes visible even in the darkness of the room.

“She needs me,” he seethed, yanking his arm free. At Azriel’s pointed look, he seemed to calm down. With a sigh, he added grudgingly, “Fine. Us. She needs us.”

Despite his own raging desire, despite the truth in Eris’s words and the need to touch you, taste you, bury himself inside you and never let go, Azriel still hesitated. You looked so peaceful as you slept—lips slightly parted, hair fanned out across the pillow, moonlight caressing your back and the curve of your ass.

“Just get changed and climb into bed, Vanserra,” he finally said. “Don’t you dare wake her up. You can wait until morning.”

No matter that he didn’t know how he would wait until morning while sleeping next to you, naked, after days of missing you.

The shuffling of sheets caught his attention, and both he and Eris turned just in time to see you stir slightly and roll onto your back. Azriel went rigid as your new position granted him a clear view of your body—from your soft breasts to the flare of your hips and the dip between your legs. Eris gasped softly at his side.

“Guys?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep. “Is that you?”

Both males immediately approached the bed, but Eris got there a second earlier. He flashed Azriel a gloating smile before reaching for you, running his slender fingers down your cheek.

“Hello, my darling,” he purred.

Azriel wanted to punch him in those perfect teeth.

Instead, he moved to your other side, wings tucked tight to his back so he could lean in close. “I'm sorry we woke you, angel,” he murmured. Unable to hold back any longer, he curled his hand around your waist, as if to pull you closer. Eris shot him a warning look, daring him to try.

“Don’t be,” you replied with a sleepy smile. “I’m not.”

You stretched with a soft hum, and Azriel's fingers squeezed you a bit tighter. Did you do it on purpose? Or were you just naively unaware of the effect you had on him? On both of them?

Lowering your arms again, your hands found their way to both their cheeks—one in each palm, your touch gentle as you welcomed them home.

“So,” you began, all traces of sleep gone from your voice, replaced by a teasing tilt, “who's getting the first kiss?”

They both moved, but Azriel was faster this time. His mouth found yours, lips finally meeting again, tongues moving in a familiar rhythm. But the tenderness of the kiss was short-lived as the frenzy overtook you both.

Your hand slipped from Eris's cheek to tangle in Azriel's hair, pulling him closer and drawing a low groan from his chest. His arm wrapped more securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he was only dimly aware of Eris kissing your neck as he got lost in the hungry need to claim your mouth and every other inch of you.

But you pulled back before he could go further.

A satisfied smile graced your lips, but you didn't give him time to act. Instead, you tugged on Eris’s hair.

The Heir of Autumn lifted his head, and Azriel could only watch as the two of you shared a kiss as passionate as the one you'd shared with him.

He didn't know how you did it, but you always managed to split your time and your affection equally between your two mates. He loved that about you. It meant he didn't have to worry about you favoring and focusing only on Eris—which he was grateful for—but it also meant that you wouldn't favor and focus only on him.

Azriel shifted to lie more comfortably on the bed, planting a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your collarbone to your soft breasts. He captured one nipple between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue while kneading your other breast with his hand.

The scent of your arousal soon filled the room and Azriel's senses. After days away from you, it made him need you the way he needed air to breathe. More, even.

His hand caressed down your stomach to where he knew he'd find you already wet. But instead, he found Eris’s hand already there, his fingers buried inside you, pumping slowly. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but as if sensing it, Eris moved his thumb aside, granting Azriel access to your clit.

It wasn't enough, but it was better than nothing.

You broke off your kiss with Eris when a moan spilled from your lips. Squirming between them, you spread your legs wider in a silent request for more.

“I’ve missed you,” Azriel murmured, releasing your nipple to look up at you, the pad of his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.

Of course, Eris had to chime in and steal your attention. “I’ve missed you more,” he added, pushing his fingers deeper inside you and drawing another moan.

“Guys,” you chuckled, though your voice was a little breathless, “I’ve missed you too. Both of you.” Your hands reached out to palm the bulges in their pants. “And I need you…”

They both sucked in a breath, but while Azriel pressed himself eagerly into your touch, ready to peel off his fighting leathers and bury himself inside you, Eris still didn’t withdraw his fingers from your cunt.

Azriel shot him a glare, but the redhead only smirked before positioning himself between your legs. “You should learn the art of patience, Shadowsinger,” he drawled, then he lowered his head and closed his lips around your clit.

A wave of annoyance surged through Azriel at the teasing reprimand, as if he hadn’t spent hours worshipping you and making sure you were fully satisfied before ever allowing himself to come. As sharing you with Eris wasn’t proof enough of just how patient he could be.

“Az…”

Your voice snapped him back to you. You were biting your lower lip, soft whimpers escaping you as Eris pleasured you, but your hands were now working to unbuckle Azriel's pants. When you finally got them undone, he stood to take them off, along with the rest of his clothes, discarding everything on the floor.

The moment he joined you again on the bed, your hands were on him. You wrapped your fingers around his hard cock, giving him a gentle squeeze that made him buck in your grasp. He barely had time to steady himself before you propped up on one forearm and guided him into your mouth.

Azriel gasped, his eyes nearly rolling back as you swirled your tongue around his leaking tip. “Fuck…” he breathed. His fingers curled into your hair, and then he was thrusting shallowly into your warm, welcoming mouth.

Your muffled moans mixed with Azriel’s and with Eris’s pleased hums against your flesh every time your hips bucked—his lips and fingers relentless in their assault on your senses.

As you took Azriel deeper and relaxed your throat around him, he groaned, chest heaving and head falling back. His hips jerked forward instinctively, and you gagged around him, but you didn’t pull back or signal for him to stop. You simply looked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, now wide with lust and fluttering beneath Eris’s expert touch.

Azriel knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, not if you kept looking at him like that while sucking him off so eagerly. He managed to hold back for a few more moments, but as pressure built and release surged closer, he pulled out of your mouth with a grunt.

You gasped for air, lips still parted, as if expecting him to push back in.

Azriel’s hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lip. “Not yet, my love,” he murmured, his voice slightly breathless. “I don’t want to come just yet.”

Before you could reply, Eris lifted his head from between your thighs. “Should we let her come, though?” he mused as his fingers curled inside you, drawing a whimper from your lips. “She’s so close. I can tell.”

Azriel glanced at him, a silent understanding passing between them. You came first. Always. Even if it wasn't by his hand. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think, angel?” he asked, turning his gaze back to you. “Should we let you come already?”

You nodded, eyes darting between the two of them. “Yes… I need to come.”

Azriel looked back at Eris with a smirk. “Make her come, Vanserra.”

Eris didn’t waste a second. He lowered his mouth to your cunt again, and as much as Azriel wanted to be the one tasting you and making you squirm and moan, he couldn't deny how incredibly arousing it was to watch Eris Vanserra feast on you.

Your hand slipped into Azriel's, holding onto him as your breaths turned into pants. He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated kiss while his other hand cupped your breast, skilled fingers teasing your nipple with practiced ease.

It was only a matter of moments before your body arched off the bed, your muscles tensing and trembling as you came on Eris’s tongue and fingers. Azriel swallowed your soft cries, unwilling to break the kiss just yet.

Only when you relaxed again did he pull back, at the same time Eris lifted his head. You were panting, one final whimper escaping your lips as Eris slowly pulled his fingers out of you. But just as he brought them to his mouth to lick them clean, you reached out to stop him.

“Wait,” you urged. “Let Azriel do it.”

Both males froze. Azriel's eyes widened in surprise, Eris merely arched a brow.

“You want him to suck my fingers?”

“Yes.” You pushed yourself up slightly, a sly smile curving your lips. “Give him a chance to taste me.”

It was just an excuse, Azriel knew that. Why taste you from Eris's fingers when he could do it directly from the source? But he also knew that you loved watching them touch not just you, but each other as well.

It was how it had all started, after all. You had asked them if they could please kiss each other, at least once, to know what it felt like. It had taken a little convincing, but neither of them could ever say no to you. You'd asked again after that. Sometimes not only for a kiss. And sometimes, you didn't even have to ask.

“Fine,” Azriel grumbled.

You and Eris both stared at him, likely surprised he'd agreed so quickly. But after fucking Eris while he went down on you, licking his fingers didn't seem like such a big deal.

The Heir of Autumn turned toward him, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “Eager, Shadowsinger?”

“Shut up, Vanserra,” he growled back. “Just give me your damn hand.”

Eris opened his mouth to reply, but you spoke first.

“Boys, boys, please,” you said with a soft laugh. “No need to get heated over this, don't you think?”

“Sorry, my love,” they answered in unison.

They exchanged an awkward glance, but then Eris lifted his hand, his lips curling in amusement.

Azriel didn't let himself second-guess it as he grabbed the male's wrist and tugged him closer. He glanced at you—still smiling at them—one last time before sealing his lips around the two fingers Eris had buried inside you.

Your slick release still coated them, the familiar taste flooding his mouth, laced now with something distinctly Eris. His skin.

Azriel swirled his tongue around the long digits, torn between savoring it or getting it over with quickly. He could already hear the comments Eris was certainly holding back, especially when that small smile curved into a full grin. Azriel shot him a glare, sharp enough to silence any smug remarks, but Eris just arched an amused brow in response.

Even after Azriel pulled away, the two males exchanged a long, heated glance—only for your voice to pull them both back to earth.

“Beautiful,” you murmured, your hungry gaze sweeping over them. Azriel felt desire stir in his gut again, but you turned to Eris, nodding toward his still clothed form. “Don’t you think it’s time you took those off?”

Eris nodded instantly. “Of course, my darling.”

As he stood to undress, Azriel moved to take the spot Eris had just vacated—right between your legs, where he wanted to be. But you shifted first, flashing him a playful wink as you got on your hands and knees.

Azriel grinned, his hands sliding over your hips. “Is this how you want me?”

Eris, now fully naked, settled in front of you. “Us, Shadowsinger,” he corrected smoothly. “It’s how she wants us.” He caressed your cheek. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

“C’mon, guys,” you mumbled, though there was a hint of amusement in your voice, “you know you don’t need to fight over me. Why don’t you kiss each other while fucking me to make up for it?”

Azriel didn’t particularly care about the first part of that suggestion. All he heard was your permission to fuck you, and he was more than ready bury his cock inside you.

Eris replied with something Azriel didn’t listen to, one hand already tightening around your waist while he lined himself up with your dripping folds. Just brushing his cock against your cunt made his breath hitch. But instead of pushing inside, he glanced up and met Eris’s eyes over your back.

Despite their differences and apparent dislike for each other, they’d developed a silent language since your mating ceremony—one that didn't need words. After Eris positioned himself in front of you, his cock brushing your parted lips, he gave a small nod. That was all he took.

They thrust forward in perfect unison.

Three moans echoed in the room—yours the loudest of all—as they filled you from both ends.

It was heaven.

It had only been a few days since Azriel last felt you clench around his cock, but fuck, he had missed it. Would always miss it. Frenzy or not, he loved you.

You took them so beautifully, every movement of your body pulling them deeper, every sound from your lips making Azriel want to come far too soon. Their rhythm was one they'd practiced and refined—measured thrusts, timed perfectly, all for your pleasure.

But even as Azriel focused on the feel of you wrapped around him he felt Eris's gaze lingering on him.

“You heard the lady,” Eris said, his voice strained as your mouth moved over his cock. “So what are we waiting for?”

Azriel lifted a brow, hips never slowing. “Eager to kiss me, Eris?”

The Autumn Heir faltered for just a beat before his thrusts resumed, amber eyes glinting. He leaned forward, sliding deeper into your mouth—not that you minded, judging by the muffled moan you gave—and leaned ever closer to Azriel.

“You suck my fingers and suddenly you use my first name?” he drawled.

Azriel blinked. He hadn’t even realized he'd said it. It had just come out naturally.

He wondered, briefly, how it would feel to hear Eris say his name in return.

“Shut up,” he muttered instead.

Still holding your waist with one hand, he reached up with the other and pulled Eris closer. Their mouths met in a heated, desperate kiss—both of them trying to take control, neither of them willing to give it.

The room filled with sound—skin on skin, soft gasps and muffled moans, the creak of the bed frame, and the wet, urgent heat of their kiss.

And as your body clenched around him and Eris's tongue slid against his, Azriel knew.

He was exactly where he was meant to be.

With his mate, and with whatever Eris Vanserra was starting to become.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd

702 notes · View notes

velarisdusk · 8 months ago

Text

Slip into something daring and explore the courts this October. Don't be shy—knock on the doors of your favorite characters. Will you uncover a dark, twisted secret, or indulge in a sinful treat?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: this is my first ever kinktober!!! ideally, i'll be posting every day from october 1st through 31st, but i'm in school full-time so we'll see lol. these will vary in length, but will all be relatively short this is all 18+ (duh) so please mdni! enjoy! AO3 Link for Kinktober 2024

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

solo days (not reader insert; only 2 lol) will be denoted with a ☾

01 Praise

Sweet Surrender | Cassian x Reader | 732 words read here or on AO3

02 Caught Masturbating

In the Wake of Absence | Lucien x Reader | 2,892 words read here or on AO3 tags: friends to lovers (kinda? insinuated at least)

03 Edging

Before the Dawn | Tamlin x Reader | 1,232 words read here or on AO3 tags: established relationship

04 Virginity

Unveiled Pleasures | Rhysand x Reader | 4,272 words read here or on AO3 tags: personal favorite, friends to lovers, corruption

05 Begging

Whispered Echoes | Nesta x Reader | 1,064 words read here or on AO3

06 Mommy Kink

Shadows of Need | Azriel x Reader | 1,004 words read here or on AO3

07 Wet Dream ☾

Dreams of You | Cassian | 483 words read here or on AO3 tags: solo (not reader-insert)

08 Thigh Riding

Floral Reverie | Tamlin x Reader | 1,633 words read here or on AO3 tags: outdoors

09 Dacryphilia

Night's Cold Embrace | Rhysand x Reader | 2,032 words read here or on AO3 tags: dark!rhys, he's out here licking tears again guys someone get him

10 Bondage

Twisted Silk | Azriel x Reader | 1,242 words read here or on AO3

11 Degradation

Fallen Grace | Eris x Reader | 1,525 words read here or on AO3

12 Size Difference

In the Firelight | Cassian x Reader | 593 words read here or on AO3

13 Medical Play

Gentle Remedies | Elain x Reader | 1,065 words read here or on AO3

14 Boot Worship

The Crown's Command | Eris x Reader | 1,572 words read here or on AO3 tags: high lord!eris, dark!eris (cruel? dark? both? idrk)

15 Distracted Sex

Indelicate Distraction | Azriel x Reader | 2,232 words read here or on AO3 tags: this one's hot just trust, az is doing paperwork... uh huh

16 Impact Play

Searing Retribution | Cassian x Reader | 976 words read here or on AO3

17 Cum Plug

Bound by Flame | Eris x Reader | 1,009 words read here or on AO3 tags: undertones of a breeding kink, y/n's gotta make an heir

18 Orgasm Control

In the Stillness of Want | Rhysand x Reader | 1,302 words read here or on AO3 tags: consensual use of daemati

19 Cockwarming

Held in Silence | Cassian x Reader | 840 words read here or on AO3

20 Dollification

Made for Him | Azriel x Reader | 1,193 words read here or on AO3

21 Pet Play

Strings of Devotion | Eris x Reader | 1,308 words read here or on AO3 tags: there is use of a dog crate briefly so beware, im planning on a part 2 to this

22 Cuckolding

When the Stars Bear Witness | Cassian x Reader x Azriel, Rhysand | 2,032 words read here or on AO3 tags: established relationship (with rhysand)

23 24/7 Scene

The Weight of Expectation | Cassian x Reader | 1,398 words read here or on AO3

24 Predator / Prey

Breathe in the Quiet | Azriel x Reader | 2,214 words read here or on AO3 tags: stalker!azriel, dark!azriel, part 1 to Day 28: Captivity

25 Somnophilia

In the Glow of Serenity | Lucien x Reader | 2,399 words read here or on AO3 tags: y/n is drugged (for medical reasons), established relationship

26 Mind Control

Murmurs of the Abyss | Rhysand x Reader | 802 words read here or on AO3 tags: consensual use of daemati

27 Tentacles ☾

Garden of Eden | Tamlin x Reader | 2,007 words read here or on AO3 tags: solo (not reader insert)

28 Captivity

Breathe Out Your Sorrows | Azriel x Reader | 9,945 words read here or on AO3 tags: personal favorite, dark! az, dub-con, part 2 to Day 24: Predator / Prey)

29 Monsterfucking

Echoes of the Unruly | Tamlin x Reader | 3,119 words read here or on AO3 tags: beast!Tamlin

30 Dehumanization

Lament of Control | Rhysand x Reader | 1,027 words read here or on AO3 tags: dark!rhysand, CoN!rhysand

31 Fuck or Die

Subjugation | Lucien x Reader, Rhysand | 6,452 words read here or on AO3 tags: personal favorite, dub-con + non-con (it is both i swear), dark!rhysand, rhysand takes you and lucien hostage, kinda also rhysand x reader?, UtM, nonconsensual use of daemati

1K notes · View notes

really-fanny-longbottom · 1 year ago

Text

never yours

azriel x reader, azriel x elain, lucien x reader | azriel never regretted his decisions so much like he does right now. warnings: angst (like a lot), fluff (also a lot because we need a balance) words: 6k

masterlist

you were born in day court during the longest and the warmest day of the year — summer solstice.

even though it's not a custom to exchange gifts on that holiday, your parents always told you that you were their greatest gift and that the sun shined brighter that day like he knew that you would be entering this world very soon.

your father was helion's best and longest friend, and he had a place in his court as his second in command and advisor.

your mother was the lead healer of the court. she was one of the most powerful and talented healers of prythian, being a very close second to madja.

due to your parents' jobs, you grew up in the day court palace and close to helion, who didn't just happen to be your high lord but also your godfather.

your parents reconsider that maybe making helion your godfather had been a mistake because of how much he spoiled you.

on your 4th birthday, he gave you a black baby pegasus as a present, which you decided to name him blackjack.

when he discovered that you liked reading, he had a private library built in your room with all kinds of books.

when you were seven and heard an old male saying that females should only wear dresses, you only wore pants for the next three months and of course, helion made sure you had every type of pants at your disposal.

when your parents tried to scold him, he just scoffed with his only response being, 'she's my goddaughter. what else am i supposed to do?' with a big grin plastered in his face.

you weren't helion's child, but he always treated you like one, and that never changed, especially after your parents' death.

your favorite thing about your parents was their mating bond. after you learned that mates are rare and a blessing, it made every single thing about your parents' love even more unique and pure.

you saw first hand what true love is really like. you saw how much they loved, cared, supported, and protected each other.

you saw loyalty and honesty in their deepest forms. seeing your parents' mating bond made you wish to the stars for a mate, and that one day, you would be blessed enough to find him.

but you also saw how deep a mating bond could go — you saw it first hand, too.

you saw it when your mother died after getting infected by a rare disease while trying to help her patients.

her death destroyed your father. the pain and the grief of losing your mother — his mate, and the love of his life were so big that your father followed her into the next life a few days later, so they could start their next journey together.

before he died, your father made helion promise him that he would take care of you, which he agreed without hesitation.

he became more protective of you. he couldn't stop thinking how unfair it was for you to lose your parents at such a young age, only eleven years old, when helion had them for centuries.

your godfather made sure to provide you with anything you needed from the best education to the best clothes, and when your healing powers start manifesting and you decide to follow your mother's steps, helion called in a favor to thesan to see if he could teach you himself.

the high lord of dawn was happy to accept, and so were you at the thought of having him as your teacher.

you moved to dawn court for a year where you learned everything about being a healer, not only with the high lord himself but also with his best healers.

you became one of the best — talented, powerful, gifted, and wise. just like your mother.

madja was looking for an apprentice at the time you returned to day, and when she heard about your skills, she asked for you.

rhysand reached out to helion with madja's offer — you would be her apprentice, work in the clinic with her but you would also assist her if she ever needed to go to a patient's residence, and would learn everything she could teach you.

it wasn't needed to convince you to agree. you had heard about madja and her healing, after thesan, she was the healer you wanted to work with the most, so of course you were more than happy to have a chance to have her as your mentor.

rhysand added that you would be welcome to stay in one of his personal residences, the house of wind, during your stay in velaris.

you were only supposed to stay in the night court for a year, but that was before you met the shadowsinger.

however, despite wanting the apprenticeship more than anything, if you had known what would happen when you agreed to go to the night court, you would never have accepted the offer.

•••

azriel couldn't sleep.

no matter how much he tried, he couldn't. not with tomorrow so close, not when he knew what was waiting for him in the morning.

the past was haunting him tonight, his thoughts hadn't stopped since he had been informed earlier of tomorrow's meeting.

so now, here he was, trying to keep his eyes open even though his body was protesting for him to do the opposite.

but he was fighting that need because every time he closed his eyes, you were all he saw.

your beautiful face with your sparkling eyes, your smooth hair, your pointy ears, your sweet voice, and your soft laughter.

you were haunting his thoughts like a punishment for all those years ago.

so all he could do now was to sit on the edge of his balcony with his legs hanging off while waiting for the sun to be born, and remember how things used to be before he destroyed everything.

•••

everything was perfect in the beginning.

velaris was beautiful, the people were kind, and the pastries were absolutely delicious.

the only thing you actually missed, besides helion, was the warmth of the sun like no other court had but the day court — that was just the day citizen in you talking.

your apprenticeship was going amazing. you and madja had instantly connected, and you were learning so much.

two weeks later, you were already attending your own patients without supervision.

you really had a gift, and every time madja complimented your powers, you gave all the credits to your genes — to your mom.

it warmed your heart knowing that the mother had blessed you with this part of her. In this way, it felt like she was always with you.

the house of wind felt just like home, and you adjusted perfectly.

the inner circle had welcomed you with open arms, and you got along with everyone. they thought you and mor would be the closest of all, but they got a big surprise when it turned out to be you and azriel.

the shadowsinger was different from everyone you ever met.

everyone in day was so loud, extroverted and open.

but not him.

he was calm, reserved, and difficult to read, but with time, you ended up finding out that the two of you were more alike than you thought. you were able to go through the shell that azriel had so perfectly built around him over the centuries.

a friendship was born.

every day, qzriel would fly you to the clinic and then back to the house. you explored velaris together and made your personal mission to try every single restaurant and bakery from the city of starlight.

you walked along the sidra and even stopped once in a while to dance along the melodies that the musicians were playing. you would read together whether that was in the library, in your room, or in his. you even started training with him and sometimes, cassian.

you became each other's person.

when a day at the clinic was hard or you would lose a patient, he was there to hug and comfort you, and you found yourself doing the same for him about his missions.

so you decided to take the next step and spoke about your parents' death, how much still affected you losing them.

and in that moment, azriel realized how much trust you put in him, so he decided to return it and opened about his past, his family, and his hands. you listened to every word, cleaned every tear, and held him for as long as he needed.

tou found yourself falling in love with him a little more day by day, and it only took you a few months to realize that you were completely in love.

the day the bond snapped was one of the happiest days of your life.

it happened during the most beautiful celebration in the night court — starfall.

your hair was tied in a long braid that reached down to your waist, decorating the braid were small yellow daylilies.

you were wearing a golden dress that fit perfectly against your sun-kissed skin. the dress had a slit on the left side that went up to the top of your thigh, a single strap held the dress on your right shoulder and when you turned around, whoever was behind you could have a perfect view of your naked back.

golden jewels rested on your ears and neck.

you looked like a goddess — one blessed by the sun itself.

you were shining just like a day court citizen should.

azriel standed next to you in the balcony while gazing at the spirits passing.

both of your hands rested on the stone of the balcony, and when you went to adjust your hand, it brushed against azriel's.

at the new feeling, you looked up to find his eyes, only to see the shadowsinger already looking at you.

in that moment, with the touching of your hands and the meeting of your eyes, the world stopped.

your hands start interviewing, and everything else just disappeared.

it was just the two of you and the sound of your heartbeats. and then, a golden thread appeared and started tying your hearts and souls.

azriel held your free hand and pressed it against his own chest, right where his heart laid.

you followed his action, freeing your intertwined hands and putting his hand on your chest, above your heart.

with the final loop of the golden thread around your hearts, azriel bent down and kissed you.

that moment couldn't be more beautiful and magical even if you tried.

you had finally found the mate that you had wished to the stars all those years ago.

everything was perfect.

you had everything you wanted and more.

you lived in a beautiful city that you learned to love and were starting to call it home.

you had the job of your life, working alongside one of your idols.

amazing friends that made you feel welcomed and part of a little family.

and finally, your mate, the male you were in love with, long before that beautiful and sacred golden thread.

everything was perfect.

but of course, nothing lasts forever.

and all of that disappeared when elain archeron came into the picture.

•••

ten years.

he couldn't believe that much time had passed. all those years without you.

it had been ten years since the last time he saw you.

ten years since he had heard something regarding you.

ten years since he had broken your heart.

and ten years since he had made the biggest mistake of his entire existence.

you had moved back to day court after that day, after what happened and after what he did.

the high lord of day had forbidden azriel from seeing you and from trying to contact you in any way.

and months later, when the rumors of a certain shadowsinger flying above the palace in hopes to get a glimpse of you reached his ears, helion banned him from his court.

helion had always been a very charismatic and loving person.

he's kind, generous, and a very good friend. He gets along with almost everyone, always joking around and laughing.

some people may say that he's the nicest and kindest high lord that prythian has ever seen.

when problems arise, he always tries to find a solution to solve them or if a solution is not possible, a way to improve them.

but not this time.

not when it comes to you and his son — Lucien.

because your heart wasn't the only one to be shattered that day.

no.

lucien's heart was a victim, too.

so, from that moment, everything that helion did was to protect you and lucien.

to make sure that you felt safe, that you had space and time to heal.

azriel's banishment wasn't the only consequence from the events of that day.

that day also cost the alliance between the day court and the night court, and when the alliance fell apart, so did helion and rhysand's friendship.

but azriel wasn't the only one to blame for all of this.

elain archeron was guilty, too.

she, too, was banished from the day court and forbidden to contact lucien in any way.

but unlike azriel, elain's actions cause far more consequences than his.

the autumn court followed the same decisions as the day court.

the banishment of azriel and elain and the prohibition of any kind of contact with lucien.

eris, now the new high lord of the autumn court after beron's death, didn't take lightly to what happened to his little brother.

the two of them had reconnected after eris became high lord.

they talked through everything that had happened in the last centuries, made peace with their past, and decided to move forward together.

now, the brothers were inseparable and had the kind of relationship they had always wanted since they were younger.

so when eris heard what had happened, he considered those actions as a personal attack.

he went as far as to offer lucien the opportunity to choose the blood duel, which his little brother refused, saying that all of this had already caused enough pain.

eris wasn't angry just because of lucien.

he was angry because of you, too.

you were the first person to give him the benefit of the doubt, the first one to not judge him and unlike the others you tried to get to know him, to be his friend and he let you.

6ou were the first one to know the real eris, to know what he hid behind the mask.

therefore, you had a special place in his heart. even if you didn't share the same blood, you were part of his family.

but that didn't stop with day and autumn. spring joined them, too.

despite everything that happened and the fact that they were still working on their friendship, tamlin's loyalty remained with lucien.

spring had been lucien's home for decades, and with that came a brotherhood between the two of them.

needless to mention that jurian and vassa's loyalties also remained with lucien.

to everyone outside the situation, all of this may seem overreacted and exaggerated.

but to everyone involved, it's not.

after all, you and lucien almost died.

that's what happens when a mating bond is rejected.

•••

azriel couldn't believe things had turned out this way.

he was so sure that the cauldron was wrong, that he belonged with Elain.

three sisters for three brothers.

how more poetic could it be?

there were signals everywhere.

feyre with rhysand.

nesta with cassian.

elain with him.

elain wouldn't go close to lucien or talk to him, but she would sit next to him whether during dinners or on the couch, she would talk to him, and requested his company when she went to the garden or to the city.

even his shadows disappeared every time he was with her.

weren't those signals clear enough?

they were meant to be.

the cauldron was wrong.

so azriel did what he thought was right.

he rejected the mating bond with you, and elain did the same with lucien.

he never thought that the rejection of the bond would've almost cost your life.

that memory still gave him nightmares to this day.

how pale you turned, how you sank to your knees with your hand pressed against your chest, tears running free down your cheeks and muffled screams leaving your lips.

how much pain you had suffered and how he had been the cause of it.

how once, not that long ago, he had been the reason for your smiles, laughs, and giggles.

but that memory wasn't his.

it was rhysand's.

rhys, who had to go through your mind shields, and knock you unconscious so the pain would stop and that memory led him to another memory.

the memory of that day and the things that had followed after he shattered your heart.

•••

azriel wasn't there the moment it happened.

no, he was too busy kissing elain after admitting how much they craved each other.

and while he kissed elain, he felt that golden thread tying the two of you breaking and start slowly to disappear.

nothing could have prepared him for that last memory of you when he and elain were summoned to the river house a few hours later.

rhys had shown him not as a courtesy but as a lesson of how much his actions can affect others.

but you weren't just some other.

you were his mate — former mate.

azriel made a move to go find you.

he needed to explain it to you, and he needed you to understand, but you were already gone.

rhys told him that after you regained consciousness, lucien took you with him back to day court.

lucien.

who you had become instantly friends with since the male's arrival in velaris.

you had treated him just like you were when you moved to the night court.

you showed him the city, the good restaurants and the best pastries, and also told him about Helion, now that he knew the high lord was his father and he was his heir.

you wanted him to feel like home, just like you did.

when Azriel made his intentions clear to go to day and find you, rhys showed him the letter helion had sent.

the one that forbidden him from seeing you and from trying to contact you in any way.

the one that also had the same indications to elain regarding lucien.

and that if any of them tried to disobey his orders, there would be consequences.

azriel knew of protective the male was of you and that he would do anything to protect his family, so for a split second, azriel found himself fearing the high lord.

rhysand also ordered them to stay away from the two of you, stating that they had already created enough problems and the night court could not afford a war with day.

after they left his office, rhys sat down on his chair, trying to think how he was gonna solve this.

his mind kept going back to you and lucien.

he was there when lucien came for you.

the red headed male was also pale and every few minutes, his hand would press to his chest in pain, his eyes were still red, probably from the tears he had shed.

rhys knew that Helion's letter wouldn't be the only one he would receive that day.

and like he was right, three more letters arrived during it.

first from autumn, then spring and the last one from the band of exiles.

rhys passed a hand through his black hair and released a long sigh.

azriel and elain actions had just cost four allies to the night court.

•••

when you and lucien arrived in day, helion almost fell to his knees at your sight.

you were in lucien's arms, your eyes half open with tears still following down your cheeks.

one of your hands was against your chest, rubbing small circles in a way of trying to get rid of the pain.

lucien wasn't much better.

helion headed towards you and started examining you for injuries, but he found nothing.

when confusion made his way to his features, Lucien told him everything.

the confusion was replaced by anger, but the anger wasn't just directed towards the shadowsinger and the middle archeron sister.

some of it was towards himself.

towards himself, because seeing you like that, helion felt that he had broken the promise he made to your dad and that this was his fault.

without giving time for any more thoughts to fill his mind, helion led lucien to your room, where the heir laid you on the bed.

you had fallen asleep in his arms with your cheeks still stained.

lucien sat on the chair by your desk that was placed in front of your bed and said to Helion that he would stay with you.

helion gave him a firm nod, remembering that lucien didn't have a room yet in his palace, but he was about to fix that.

helion didn't waste any time after making sure that the two of you were okay for now.

he called two of his servants to prepare a room for the young heir and went straight to his office where he wrote the letter and sent it to rhysand.

the next week's were a complicated ones but showed that time was the best healer.

you no longer spend the days locked in your room alone.

you started to eat properly again and went back to work.

day by day, you were smiling more, sometimes making jokes.

lucien improved as well.

he decided to live in the day court for the time being and took his place as helion's second in command.

his relationship with helion was also getting stronger over time.

they were making up for the lost time.

but that wasn't the only thing that changed. your relationship with lucien also changed.

you got closer than ever, due to the fact you were the only ones who knew what the other was going through.

you found comfort in each other's presence and started spending more time together to the point where you became each other's favorite person.

little by little, you start helping each other heal.

you started putting back together the pieces that had been broken, and the pain started slowly fading until the day that it didn't hurt anymore.

you two mended your hearts and souls, and for the first time, in a long time, you were full again.

your friendship grew, and so did your feelings for each other.

•••

azriel couldn't believe how wrong he had been.

because the cauldron wasn't wrong, it had never been wrong.

he was the one who was wrong — right from the beginning.

he and elain had tried a relationship after yours and lucien's departure.

it worked for six months until it didn't.

azriel questioned himself why the relationship was starting to fail and why being with elain was starting to feel wrong.

it didn't take him too long to understand the reason. It was because she wasn't you.

he found out that the reason his shadows disappear every time he was with elain wasn't because they were destined but because they were with you.

his shadows would leave him and elain to go find you, like they were stating that they wouldn't betray you, that they chose you.

on the day he broke up with elain, he found his shadows in your old room, which once was filled with colors, books, paintings, and light, and now was empty, dusty, and dark.

the shadows were swimming around your starfall dress — the one you wore on the day your bond had snapped.

the sight of the dress was painful, and he understood why it had been left behind.

azriel had tried to apologize.

he flew to day court and around the palace trying to find you but he never did and the next day helion sent a letter with his and elain's banishment, making autumn and spring to make the same decision.

he understood why.

they were trying to protect you and lucien, and even though he didn't have the right, he just wanted to know if you were okay.

he asked rhys several times if he knew something about you, and thys revealed to him that you weren't talking to him or the other members of the inner circle either.

you had stated that it was too early and still very painful.

so they respected your decision and kept their distance.

that had caused azriel's guilt to grow even more.

how he wished for nesta to still have her powers so he could go back in time and repair all of this.

the light of the sun broke his thoughts.

the sun was finally making its appearance in the orange and yellow sky.

azriel released a long breath and looked at the clock perched on his bedroom wall.

the morning was here, and he was only two hours away from seeing you.

•••

the inner circle stood at the entrance of the day court palace.

helion had lifted the banishment for this meeting with yours and lucien consent.

both of you said that it had been a long time and that the past should stay in the past, but that didn't mean you would be accepting any apologies today.

koschei was on the rise again, and prythian needed to come together once more.

right now, your past didn't matter.

the doors swung open, and the inner circle made their way inside.

a servant led them to the conference room located in the same hallway as helion's office on the first floor of the palace.

they sat at the marble table while the servant informed them, "the high lord will be here in a few minutes."

receiving a nod and a 'thank you' from rhysand, the servant left.

rhys started, "y/n and lucien will also be in this meeting. now, helion was nice enough to allow the two of you back here, so do not ruin this."

he finished while looking at azriel and elain, making them both nod their heads.

helion entered the room, and the inner circle raised from their seats.

the high lord of the day court made his way to the head of the table.

he turned to the side where rhys and his inner circle stood, offering his hand to rhys to shake it.

taken by surprise, rhys needed a few seconds to process what was happening before accepting his hand.

once they had shaken hands, everyone returned to their seats, but not before helion sent a disapproving look in azriel's and elain's direction.

a few minutes into the meeting, the door to the conference room opened again.

and there you were.

you were dressed in day attire. a beautiful white dress that hugged your body, with your hair loosen and golden jewelry adorned your neck and ears.

lucien was by your side also wearing day attire, one that matched helion's, with your hand in his.

the inner circle held their breaths at your sight.

it had been ten years, but all the memories came flashing back to them.

you looked the same, but when you two approached the table, that's when they saw it and shock spread all over their faces.

azriel couldn't believe what he was seeing.

he didn't know what he was expecting to see at this meeting, but it wasn't this.

it wasn't the golden ring that you and lucien had matching on your left hands informing him that you were married that shocked him.

it was the small and round belly that your free hand was resting on and the sweet vanilla scent that was filling the air — the scent of yours and lucien's baby.

"apologies for our delay," lucien started, then looking in your direction with a smile continued "someone had a big appetite this morning," he ended with a laugh.

you looked at his gaze, a genuine smile on your lips "shut up," you whispered.

lucien grabs the back of your chair, pulling it to give you enough space to sit. "thank you, my love."

you said while watching him take the seat at your right, making you stay seated between him and Helion.

for the first time since you entered the room, you looked at the people in front of you. "night court," you greeted with a small smile.

feyre was the first to say, "congratulations, y/n and lucien."

lucien spoke this time. "thank you, feyre." he rested his hand on your belly.

"how far long are you?" rhysand's voice reached your ears.

looking in his direction, you answered, "23 weeks. lucien thinks it's a girl, but i think it's a boy," you added, making rhys smile.

"i always took you for a boy mom." amren's voice surprised you and couldn't help but smile at her words.

"congratulations to you two. the mother knows you deserve it." she finished with a genuine smile.

lucien looked at azriel and elain before directing his eyes to the ancient one "yes, we do. thank you, amren."

lucien paused for a second before turning in helion's direction and continuing. “let's not keep holding on to the meeting. please go on, father."

helion proceeded with the meeting, but azriel didn't listen to a word that was said.

he couldn't tear his eyes from you and lucien.

there was no doubt of the love you two shared, not when it was written in both of your eyes.

he didn't miss Lucien caresing your belly and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, passing his thumb over your jaw, and kissing your cheek after.

or how you rested your right hand on top of his on your belly while your left passed through his long red hair before resting around his shoulders and your smile while doing it.

what bigger proof did he need of your love if not for the baby you were carrying?

lucien's baby, he kept telling himself.

not his.

lucien's.

jealousy invaded his body, but there was nothing he could do.

he made his decision ten years ago, and now he had to live with it.

lost in his thoughts, he only realized the meeting was over when everyone started standing.

rhys and helion were finishing talking, and when the doors opened one more time, eris vanserra walked in with a little ginger boy in his arms.

he couldn't be more than five years old.

he looked exactly like lucien, except for his eyes — those were yours.

azriel's heart sank, and it sank even more a few seconds later, when the little boy spotted you and lucien.

you already had a baby and you were about to have your second.

with a big smile appearing on his sweet face, the little boy almost shouted, "mommy! daddy!"

the boy jumped from his uncle's arms and ran to you.

you bend down and gather the happy boy in your arms before standing again and passing a hand through his ginger curls and saying, "hi, baby."

you peppered his face with kisses, making him laugh even more. "i thought you were having fun with your uncle," you said, looking at your brother in law.

your son pouted “uncle eris doesn't know how to play. he only wants to do the boring stuff, mommy.”

everyone in the room chuckled. eris gasped with fake hurt “excuse me?”

“elijah.” lucien chuckled and said to your son after joining your side “don't be rude to your uncle.”

“but it’s the truth, daddy.” elijah hid his face on your neck.

eris approached the little family with a smile directed to his nephew. "sorry. i tried to keep him entertained, but he just kept asking about you two."

lucien noticed his older brother had paint and glitter on his white shirt and laughed at the thought of his son giving him a hard time before exclaiming, "it's alright, brother. we were about to leave anyway."

the little boy settled in your arms and rested his head against yours, lucien started rubbing his back.

when the little boy caught the sight of his grandfather, he asked before anyone could stop him "grandpa, how was the meeting with the idiots from the night court?"

the room went quiet, and a few gasps escaped.

at your son's words, you turned to look at Helion, now on mom's mood. "helion! how many times do we have to tell you not to speak like that in front of him?"

the room erupted in laughter at your statement.

the air became lighter, and helion put his hands in surrender, promising you that it wouldn't happen again.

you gave him an incredulous look, saying that you didn't believe him.

your son wrapped his tiny arms around your neck and rested his head on your shoulder with a yawn leaving his lips.

you rubbed your son's back while speaking to him. "C'mon, elijah. let's leave before your grandfather comes up with a new bad word for you to learn."

“bad grandpa” your son agreed with you while earning new chuckles from the night court.

even though he was trying to hold his smile, azriel failed. your son was too adorable.

you turned your gaze to the inner circle and gave them a smile. "it was good to see you all."

"you too, y/n. i missed you." cassian replied.

your smile stretched before telling him, "i missed you too, cass."

the nickname made his heart ache — maybe there's still a chance for you to reconnect.

you turned to look behind you, meeting your husband's eyes "you're coming, lu?"

a pink blush made its way to lucien's cheeks "of course, my love."

the heir looked at his father, "we'll see you at dinner, father. night court." he said, giving the inner circle a small nod before joining you and wrapping his arm around your waist and giving a kiss to your now sleeping son.

amren spoke again “see i told you were a boy mom.”

“you're right. if this baby happens to be a boy as well, i'm gonna be in trouble.” you replied with an arm holding your son and while the other made its way to your belly.

“no, you're not. you're gonna be great.” nesta spoke, a genuine smile on her lips “we already can see you are.” she gestured to the little boy sleeping in your arms.

“thank you, nes.” you were grateful for her words.

on your way out, you met azriel's eyes, but you couldn't find the words, so you simply gave him a nod with a small smile, and azriel returned the gesture.

when the door closed, amren was the first to break the silence "well, the mother has a sense of humor."

everyone turned to look at her, but she focused her gaze on azriel and elain.

"you rejected them because you believed you belonged with one another only for your relationship to fail six months later. and now," she released a laugh, "your former mates found their way towards each other. fell in love, got married, have a son, and have another baby on the way. ironic isn't it?" she said with the feline smile returning to her lips.

it was helion who spoke next, amusement all over his face, "indeed. i guess karma is a bitch."

he sent a disapproving look one more time in the direction of the two people who almost cost him his family before exiting the room.

amren's and Helion's words stung, but azriel knew it was nothing but the truth. He realized in that moment that despite your life now and how things turned out, you would never forgive him.

he had lost you forever, and now he had to live with regret for the rest of his life.

after all, you were no longer his.

a/n: thank you for reading! i'm thinking in making a general taglist so if you wish to be added let me know.

dividers by @cafekitsune

2K notes · View notes