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fr0stf4ll · 20 days

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Flavours of Prythian

Coming from that request

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; Y/N, a talented restaurateur’s life is turned upside down when she forms an unexpected bond with Azriel, the mysterious Spymaster of the Night Court. Befriending Elain, who confides in her about a male she’s trying to win over, she eagerly helps her new friend — only to discover the male is none other than Azriel. When the bond between her and Azriel snaps at first touch, she’s torn between loyalty to Elain and the undeniable connection she shares with the shadowy warrior.

word count ; 7.8k

warning; //

notes; Yoo everyone, here is my first one shot ! Thank you again for the request<333 Should I do a more general taglist so that you guys can be permanently on it. Enjoy it, see you <3

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Prythian was a land of many wonders, from the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains to the lush, rolling hills of the Spring Court. But for you, the true magic of the land was found in its kitchens, markets, and the rich flavors that each court had to offer.

You had always been drawn to the culinary arts, even as a child. Your curiosity led you to travel across the courts, tasting the distinct dishes of each region, learning from the most skilled chefs, and uncovering the hidden culinary gems that most would overlook. You spent years journeying from the Day Court, where spices danced like sunlight on the tongue, to the Winter Court, where hearty stews and warm bread were a staple against the biting cold. In the Night Court, you discovered the delicate balance of flavors that mirrored the starlit skies above, and in the Summer Court, you indulged in the rich, vibrant tastes that seemed to capture the very essence of the sun-drenched beaches.

Your travels weren’t just about satisfying your own cravings; they were a quest to bring the best of Prythian’s diverse cuisines to others. And so, you did the impossible—you opened a series of restaurants, each one in a different court, each one a testament to the culinary traditions you had learned and made your own. Your establishments became a haven for those seeking not only a good meal but an experience, a journey through Prythian’s tastes and textures without ever leaving their seat.

Your flagship restaurant, nestled in the heart of Velaris, was particularly special. It was here, in the City of Starlight, that you combined the flavors of all the courts into a menu that was as varied and enchanting as Prythian itself. Word quickly spread of the remarkable dishes served within, and soon, it wasn’t just the citizens of Velaris who came to dine—High Fae from every court sought out your creations.

One such evening, as you oversaw the final preparations for the dinner service, the door to your restaurant swung open, and in walked a familiar face—Elain Archeron. Elain had been wandering through Velaris, taking in the beauty of the city, when the warm, inviting aroma from your restaurant had drawn her in.

Elain was known for her gentle nature, her love of gardening, and her keen eye for beauty in all things. But tonight, she was here for something different—a new experience, a chance to explore another form of beauty through the culinary delights that had been whispered about throughout the city.

As Elain took her seat near a window overlooking the Sidra, she immediately felt at ease. There was a sense of comfort and warmth in the restaurant, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself walking over to greet her. She looked up with a warm smile, her eyes bright with curiosity and a touch of shyness.

“Welcome,” you said, your own smile reflecting her warmth. “I’m Y/N, the owner and chef here. It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Elain’s smile widened, and she nodded appreciatively. “I’ve heard so much about this place, I just had to come see for myself. The aromas alone are worth the visit.”

You chuckled, feeling an instant connection with her. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll make sure the food lives up to the expectations.”

As the evening went on, you found yourself returning to Elain’s table more than once, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You talked about your travels, the different courts you had visited, and the inspiration behind some of the dishes on the menu. Elain, in turn, shared stories of her own—of her love for gardening, the peace she found in the quiet moments spent among the flowers, and her growing appreciation for the little joys in life, like a perfectly prepared meal.

There was something comforting in the way you both connected, as if you had known each other for much longer than just one evening. By the time dessert arrived—a delicate pastry inspired by the flavors of the Summer Court—you and Elain were chatting like old friends, the conversation punctuated by shared laughter and the occasional appreciative hum as she tasted each new dish.

As the night drew to a close, Elain hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’d love to come back,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

You smiled, genuinely pleased by the idea. “I’d like that. You’re welcome anytime, Elain.”

Elain quickly became a regular fixture at your restaurant, her visits growing more frequent as the two of you bonded over shared stories, laughter, and the occasional glass of wine. It wasn’t long before your casual conversations began to take on a more personal tone, with Elain confiding in you about her life, her hopes, and her dreams.

One evening, after the dinner rush had died down and the restaurant had settled into a peaceful hum, Elain arrived with a particular glint in her eye. You noticed it the moment she walked in, her steps lighter, her smile brighter. She took her usual seat by the window, and you didn’t waste any time joining her, a knowing smile on your face.

“Alright, Elain,” you said, sitting down across from her. “You’re glowing tonight. What’s going on?”

Elain blushed, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. “It’s nothing, really… Well, maybe it’s something. I don’t know.”

You leaned in closer, eyes wide with curiosity. “Come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that. Spill!”

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. “There’s… this male,” she began, her voice soft but filled with excitement. “I’ve been trying to get his attention for a while now, and I think… I think it might actually be working.”

You couldn’t help but squeal in delight, clapping your hands together. “Elain! This is amazing! Tell me everything—who is he? How did it start? What’s he like?”

Elain giggled at your enthusiasm, her own excitement bubbling to the surface as she began to share the details. “He’s… well, he’s different. Reserved, I guess you could say. But there’s something about him that just draws me in. He’s kind, in his own way, and he has this quiet strength that I really admire.”

You listened intently, hanging on her every word as she described this mysterious male who had captured her attention. It was clear that she was smitten, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for her.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, your mind already racing with ideas. “How are you going to win him over?”

Elain smiled shyly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Well, I thought… maybe I could start by cooking for him. You know, something simple but special. He loves good food, and I think it might help him see… well, see me.”

You practically jumped out of your seat with excitement. “Elain, that’s perfect! And you’re in the right place—I can help you with recipes, tips, anything you need. We’ll make sure this meal is unforgettable.”

Her eyes lit up with gratitude. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Of course!” you replied, beaming. “This is what friends are for. And besides, I love a good love story. We’ll make sure he can’t resist you after this.”

From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. Elain would visit the restaurant every few days, sometimes to try out a new dish, other times just to chat and share the latest developments in her budding romance. The more she talked about this male, the more you could see how deeply she cared for him, and it made you all the more determined to help her succeed.

You spent hours in the kitchen together, experimenting with different ingredients and techniques, crafting meals that were not only delicious but also filled with meaning. Elain would watch you work, her eyes wide with admiration as you explained the significance of each spice, each flavor, and how it could be used to convey emotion.

“There’s a language in food,” you told her one afternoon as you kneaded dough for a loaf of bread. “Every dish tells a story. When you cook for someone, you’re sharing a part of yourself with them. It’s intimate, in a way.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully, her hands busy chopping herbs for the soup you were preparing. “I never thought of it like that, but it makes sense. I want him to know how I feel, even if I can’t always find the words.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for your friend. “Then we’ll make sure every bite he takes is filled with love.”

As the days turned into weeks, Elain’s visits became a highlight of your day. She would burst through the door, her eyes sparkling as she recounted her latest interactions with the male who had stolen her heart. You would listen with rapt attention, offering advice and encouragement, celebrating every small victory and reassuring her during moments of doubt.

“He loved the soup,” she told you one evening, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “He said it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And I think… I think he’s starting to notice me.”

You grinned, feeling a surge of pride. “I told you, Elain. No one can resist good food, especially when it’s made with love.”

She laughed, her joy infectious. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve helped me so much.”

You waved off her gratitude with a smile. “Nonsense. You’re the one doing all the hard work. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

But the truth was, you had come to care deeply for Elain and her happiness. It wasn’t just about the food anymore—it was about seeing your friend find the love and connection she so deserved. And as she continued to come back, sharing her hopes and dreams, you couldn’t help but feel that you had found something special too.

Your friendship with Elain had become a source of joy and fulfillment, a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections were forged in the simplest of moments—over a shared meal, a quiet conversation, or a burst of laughter that echoed through the night.

And so, as the seasons changed and the nights grew longer, you continued to help Elain in her quest to win over this mysterious male, knowing that whatever the outcome, you had found a true friend in her. A friend who had come into your life unexpectedly, but who had quickly become an irreplaceable part of it.

Weeks had passed since you and Elain had first started crafting meals together, each one a carefully planned step in her quest to win over the male who had captivated her heart. Every visit, every dish, brought a new story, a new glimmer of hope in her eyes. You were genuinely happy for her, thrilled to see her so full of life and excitement. So, when she asked if she could bring him to your restaurant for dinner, you couldn’t have been more supportive.

“Of course, Elain!” you’d said, flashing her an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect. It’ll be a night he won’t forget.”

You’d spent the entire day preparing, selecting only the finest ingredients and crafting a menu that would showcase the very best of what your restaurant had to offer. You wanted this night to be special for her—special for them. You had no idea how special it would become, for reasons you never could have imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city of Velaris in a warm, golden glow, Elain arrived at the restaurant with a male by her side. You couldn’t quite make out his features at first, but the way she clung to his arm, her eyes bright with anticipation, told you all you needed to know. This was the one.

As they stepped into the softly lit dining room, you finally got a good look at him—Azriel, the shadowsinger of the Night Court. You had heard of him, of course, through whispers and stories, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment your eyes met his.

Elain beamed as she introduced the two of you, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “Azriel, this is Y/N, the wonderful chef I’ve been telling you about. And Y/N, this is Azriel.”

He extended his hand to you, his expression polite, reserved. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.

You reached out, intending to greet him with the same friendly courtesy you offered all your patrons. But the moment your hand touched his, something shifted in the air—a sudden, overwhelming rush of heat and energy that took your breath away. The bond snapped into place with such force that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

For a split second, the world around you faded, and all you could feel was the pull, the undeniable connection that tethered your soul to his. His eyes widened in shock, and you knew he felt it too—the bond, the realization that fate had just entwined your lives in a way neither of you had expected.

But as quickly as the bond formed, reality came crashing back down. Elain was standing there, her eyes full of hope, completely unaware of the storm that had just erupted inside you. She had no idea that the male she was so clearly infatuated with, the one she had been working so hard to win over, was now bound to you in a way that went beyond anything you could have ever imagined.

Panic surged through you. How could this happen? How could you possibly accept this bond when it would mean shattering the friendship you had built with Elain, when it would mean taking away the one thing she wanted so desperately?

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

With a forced smile, you quickly withdrew your hand from Azriel’s grasp, the warmth of the bond lingering like a phantom touch. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you managed to say, though your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, confusion and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself look too long, couldn’t let yourself feel what was brewing inside you. Not when Elain was standing right there, her happiness hanging in the balance.

“Please, take a seat,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the table you had specially prepared for them. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

Elain smiled, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, and took her seat. Azriel hesitated for just a moment before following suit, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes again. You couldn’t.

As the evening went on, you did your best to stay professional, to act as if nothing had changed. You brought out dish after dish, each one more exquisite than the last, all while ignoring the fire burning in your chest. Every time Azriel tried to catch your eye, every time he tried to speak to you, you found a reason to turn away, to focus on something—anything—else.

Elain chattered on, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Azriel. She complimented the food, praised your skills, and even mentioned how much Azriel seemed to be enjoying himself. And through it all, you kept up the facade, kept pretending as if the bond snapping into place hadn't turned your entire world upside down.

But it was getting harder. With every glance Azriel sent your way, with every quiet question he tried to ask you in passing, it felt like the invisible thread between you was pulling tighter, demanding to be acknowledged. Yet, you refused to give in.

As the night dragged on, the tension between you and Azriel grew unbearable. He could sense it—you knew he could—but Elain remained blissfully unaware, happily recounting the gossip from the latest happenings in Velaris, smiling every time she caught Azriel glancing her way.

Azriel's eyes kept drifting back to you. Not once, not twice, but every time you approached the table, as if he couldn’t stop himself. You could feel the weight of his gaze burning into you, the way his expression darkened each time you brushed past him without so much as a word. He knew you were avoiding him, and he didn’t like it.

When you brought out the final dish—an indulgent dessert meant to close the evening on a sweet note—Elain excused herself to step outside for a moment, leaving you alone with Azriel for the first time since the bond snapped.

You could feel his presence before you even turned around, the quiet intensity of his gaze. And as you set the plate down in front of him, you knew you couldn’t avoid this confrontation any longer.

“Y/N.” His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, but the way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of you. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your voice cold and distant, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.

Azriel leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “Don’t lie to me. You felt it too.”

The bond. He didn’t have to say the word for you to know what he meant. It was a truth that hung in the air between you, undeniable and impossible to ignore. And yet, you had to. You had to protect Elain, to protect your friendship, no matter the cost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your heart aching with the effort it took to deny the pull you felt toward him.

Azriel’s expression darkened, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t shut me out.”

But you couldn’t let him in. If you let him in, if you allowed yourself to even consider what the bond meant, you would be betraying Elain in the worst way possible. How could you even think about being with him when she had spent weeks confiding in you, trusting you with her feelings for him?

“No, Azriel.” You stepped back, your voice firmer this time. “I can’t.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Why? Because of Elain?”

You winced at the mention of her name, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on your chest. “She cares about you. A lot.”

Azriel's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s not like that between Elain and me.”

But you shook your head, refusing to let yourself believe it. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my friend. I can’t—I won’t—do this to her.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Azriel opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sound of the door opening broke the silence.

Elain re-entered the dining room, a bright smile on her face as she made her way back to the table. “Sorry about that,” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Azriel. “What did I miss?”

You forced a smile, masking the turmoil raging inside you. “Nothing,” you lied, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “Just making sure everything’s perfect.”

Elain beamed, clearly pleased with how the evening had gone. “It really has been perfect, Y/N. Thank you so much for everything.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally looked away, the tension in his jaw clear as he nodded in agreement. “Yes… thank you.”

You nodded once, offering them both a stiff smile before excusing yourself from the room, your chest tightening with every step you took away from them.

As you retreated to the quiet of the kitchen, your hands bracing against the counter, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. The bond had snapped. Azriel was your mate. And yet, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it.

You had promised yourself you’d never hurt Elain. And if shutting down every advance Azriel made, if pushing away the one person the Cauldron had chosen for you was the only way to keep that promise, then that’s exactly what you would do.

Even if it tore you apart.

Back in the kitchen, you leaned heavily against the counter, your hands gripping the cold marble surface as you tried to regain your composure. The bond had snapped, and with it, any sense of stability you had managed to hold onto throughout the evening. The world felt off-kilter, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink.

One of your sous chefs, a sharp-eyed female who had worked with you since the restaurant’s inception, noticed your pallor. She set down the pan she was holding and approached you, concern evident in her eyes.

“Y/N,” she began cautiously, her voice gentle but probing, “are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a nod, though you knew your expression wasn’t convincing. “I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice was shaky and unsteady.

She frowned, clearly not buying your response. Her eyes scanned your face, taking in the unusual paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. “You don’t look fine. Do you need to sit down? Maybe get some air?”

You shook your head, trying to brush off her concern, but the weight of the bond pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “No, I’ll be okay. It’s just… been a long night.”

She hesitated, still studying you closely, before glancing around the bustling kitchen. “But, Y/N,” she continued, her tone turning more inquisitive, “it’s strange. You always insist on preparing Miss Elain’s meals yourself, especially when she’s bringing a guest. But tonight, you didn’t even touch the preparation. You left it all to us.”

You froze at her words, the reality of what had happened sinking in even deeper. She was right—normally, you would have insisted on handling every detail of Elain’s meal, wanting to ensure that everything was perfect for your friend. But tonight, when it mattered most, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to do it.

The truth was, the moment you realized Elain was bringing someone special, you couldn’t bring yourself to touch the ingredients. You had let the staff handle everything because deep down, some part of you knew something was about to change—something you weren’t ready to face.

“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to find some semblance of an explanation. “I just thought… maybe it was time to let you all handle it. You’re more than capable.”

She tilted her head slightly, her frown deepening as she searched your eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time, even though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. “Yes, I’m sure. I trust all of you with the kitchen. You don’t need me hovering over every detail.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she didn’t press the issue further. Instead, she offered a small, supportive smile. “Well, if you ever need a break, don’t hesitate to step out. We’ve got things under control here.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I appreciate it.”

With a final nod, she returned to her station, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the crushing weight of the bond you were trying so desperately to ignore.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to push away the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Azriel’s eyes, the way they had widened in shock and recognition when the bond snapped into place. You couldn’t forget the warmth of his hand in yours, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to just the two of you in that fleeting, life-altering moment.

But Elain… you couldn’t do this to Elain. You couldn’t shatter her hopes, her dreams, just because of a bond you had never asked for. So, you did the only thing you could—you steeled yourself, pushed down the emotions threatening to break free, and vowed to keep your distance from Azriel, no matter how much it hurt.

You would be there for Elain, just as you always had been. You would help her win over the male she had been trying so hard to impress, even if it meant denying your own heart in the process.

Because that’s what friends did. They put each other first, no matter the cost.

And as you stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking utensils, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would protect Elain’s happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

—

Azriel sat in the sitting room of the townhouse, surrounded by the familiar faces of the inner circle, yet he felt completely out of place. The evening had been an unexpected whirlwind of emotions, leaving him reeling from the bond that had snapped so suddenly and without warning. He had come here to find solace, to clear his mind, but every thought seemed to spiral back to you—the way you had looked at him, the way you had recoiled after the bond had formed during dinner at your restaurant.

He couldn’t understand it. How could something so significant be brushed aside so easily? He had tried to reach out to you, to understand what was happening, but you had shut him down, leaving him to grapple with the weight of the bond on his own.

The others were chatting around him, the sound of their laughter and conversation filling the room, but it all felt distant, muffled. Azriel’s mind was too clouded to focus on anything they were saying. He was trapped in a loop, replaying the moment over and over in his head—the spark, the connection, the way your eyes had widened in recognition before you quickly masked it.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed it when Rhysand mentioned your name.

“You know, Y/N’s restaurant is one of the best in Velaris,” Rhys was saying, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Feyre and I went there a few nights ago, and it was nothing short of incredible.”

Feyre nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up at the memory. “The food was amazing. Every dish was like a work of art. She really has a talent, doesn’t she?”

Mor, who was lounging on one of the couches, joined in with a grin. “That’s not even the half of it. Y/N’s got restaurants all over Prythian—one in each court, if you can believe it. She’s become a bit of a legend in the culinary world.”

Azriel’s heart sank further as they continued to praise you, each word driving the knife deeper into his chest. It wasn’t that he disagreed with them—he knew you were remarkable, talented, someone to be admired. But right now, every mention of your name was like salt in a wound that was already festering.

Cassian, who had been listening with a smirk on his face, finally spoke up, his tone playful. “Sounds like Az here missed out on one hell of a meal tonight. Maybe he’ll have to go back and get a taste of what everyone’s raving about.”

Azriel tensed, the comment hitting far too close to home. He knew Cassian was just joking, but the implication—the reminder of what had happened tonight—was too much to bear. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, his movements abrupt enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“Az?” Feyre called out, concern lacing her voice as she watched him head for the door. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he muttered something about needing some air and quickly left the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on his back as he made his escape.

As the door closed behind him, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Everyone exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Azriel’s sudden departure.

“What’s gotten into him?” Rhysand wondered aloud, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Cassian, never one to let an opportunity for humor pass by, snorted and shook his head. “Probably just realized he’s been a brooding mess all night and couldn’t handle the idea of someone actually having a good time.”

Mor chuckled, though there was a trace of worry in her eyes. “Or maybe he just can’t handle the fact that Y/N’s cooking is so damn good, it knocked him off his game.”

Rhysand sighed, glancing toward the door Azriel had just walked through. “He’s been off since he got back tonight. Maybe something happened.”

Feyre bit her lip, her expression softening. “I hope he’s alright. He seemed… different.”

Cassian, ever the optimist, leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. “He’ll be fine. Az is tougher than all of us combined. He just needs some time to brood in his room, and he’ll be back to his grumpy self in no time.”

The group shared a few more laughs at Azriel’s expense, but the concern in their eyes never fully faded. They all knew Azriel well enough to understand that when he withdrew like this, it meant something was seriously bothering him.

Azriel’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to his room, the quiet of the hallway amplifying the thoughts swirling in his mind. As soon as he entered, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the noise, the chaos of emotions inside him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of your hand in his, the way the bond had snapped into place like it had always been there, waiting. The connection was undeniable, and yet… you had denied it. Denied him.

Why? The question gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He had seen the recognition in your eyes, the brief moment when you had felt it too. But then, you had shut down, shut him out as if the bond meant nothing.

It was more than just confusing—it was painful. Azriel had spent centuries in the shadows, watching from the sidelines as his friends found their mates, found love. He had accepted his place, accepted that perhaps it wasn’t meant for him. And then, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed. You had changed it.

And now… now he was left in this strange limbo, caught between the undeniable pull of the bond and the walls you had erected between you.

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to storm back to your restaurant, to demand answers, to make you acknowledge what had happened. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force you to accept the bond, couldn’t force you to feel something you clearly weren’t ready to face.

With a frustrated sigh, Azriel pushed off the door and crossed the room, heading to the window that overlooked Velaris. The city was peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, but his mind was anything but. He rested his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes scanning the distant lights of the city below.

“Why?” he whispered into the empty room, his voice tinged with a desperation he rarely allowed himself to feel. “Why won’t you let me in?”

But the night offered no answers, only the quiet whisper of the wind as it brushed against the windowpane.

—

The next day passed in a blur. You threw yourself into your work, letting the familiar rhythm of chopping, stirring, and plating distract you from the turmoil brewing inside. The restaurant had been busy, as always, with customers filling every table, their laughter and chatter echoing through the dining room. But despite the bustle, you couldn��t shake the heavy weight in your chest—the bond that you were trying so desperately to ignore.

When the last customer had left, you sent your staff home, insisting that you would handle the closing on your own. You needed the time alone, needed to clear your head without the distraction of others around. As the front door clicked shut behind the last of your employees, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft sound of the knife in your hand as you prepped ingredients for the next day. The rhythmic motion of slicing through vegetables was soothing, almost meditative. But as you worked, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still coiled tight in your chest.

You were focused on the task at hand, chopping carrots with practiced precision, when a voice cut through the silence, making you freeze in place.

“I bet you could be good with a sword with how you work that knife,” came the familiar, deep voice, tinged with a hint of amusement. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be those carrots.”

Your hand stilled mid-slice, the knife hovering just above the cutting board. You knew that voice all too well—Azriel.

Slowly, you turned to face him, finding him standing just inside the doorway to the kitchen, his expression guarded but his eyes full of determination. He had changed out of his usual leathers, dressed instead in a simple tunic and trousers, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from the previous night hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. You could feel the bond thrumming faintly between you, a constant reminder of the connection you were trying so hard to deny.

But you knew why he was here. You had been avoiding him all day, refusing to even think about the conversation you knew was coming. But now, with the restaurant empty and the two of you alone, there was no escaping it.

You set the knife down on the counter, wiping your hands on a nearby towel as you steeled yourself for what was about to happen.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm as you faced Azriel. The tension in the room was almost palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. You had been dreading this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” you said, your voice firm, though you could hear the tremor in it. “We can’t do this, Azriel.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes. “Why not? Y/N, you felt it too. The bond—it snapped into place. We can’t just ignore that.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the look on his face. “I’m not ignoring it. But I can’t—I won’t act on it. Not when Elain… Not when she’s been trying so hard to win you over.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in realization, and he took a step closer to you, his expression softening as he reached out. “Y/N, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Elain wasn’t trying to win me over… not in the way you think.”

You hesitated, frowning as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? She’s been telling me everything, Azriel. How she’s been trying to get your attention, how much she cares about you… I can’t do that to her. I won’t be the one to hurt her like that.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly frustrated but determined to set things right. “Y/N, you don’t have the full story. Elain… she’s not interested in me like that. She’s been trying to make Lucien jealous.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “Lucien? But… he’s her mate. Why would she do that?”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Yes, he’s her mate. But they’ve been going through a rough patch lately. Lucien’s duties as emissary for the Night Court have kept him away, and Elain’s been feeling… neglected. She thought that by spending time with me, by pretending there was something more between us, she could get a reaction out of him. It was never about me, Y/N. It was always about Lucien.”

You felt your heart drop as the realization hit you. “So, you were just helping her as a friend?”

Azriel nodded again, his gaze steady as he took a step closer to you. “Exactly. I was only doing this to help her. I never had feelings for her in that way, and she knows that. We were just… playing a part to get Lucien’s attention.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. “She didn’t tell me any of this.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Azriel said gently. “Or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. But I promise you, Y/N, there’s nothing between Elain and me. There never was. She’s still trying to figure things out with Lucien, and I was just trying to help her.”

You looked away, your mind racing to process everything Azriel was telling you. You had been so sure, so convinced that you were protecting Elain by shutting Azriel out. But now, with this new information, everything felt uncertain, like the ground had shifted beneath your feet.

“Azriel, I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. You had built up walls around your heart, walls meant to protect both you and Elain from the pain of betrayal. But now those walls were crumbling, leaving you vulnerable and confused.

Azriel took another step closer, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Don’t shut me out. Let’s talk about this—really talk. Give me a chance to show you that this bond isn’t something to be feared. It’s something that could be… everything.”

You stood there, trying to process everything Azriel had just told you. The confusion, the guilt, the realization that you had misunderstood everything—it all came crashing down at once. You looked away from Azriel, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to make sense of it all.

“Okay,” you finally muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Now I actually feel like a dumbass.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cringed internally. But when you glanced back up at Azriel, you found him staring at you with wide eyes for a moment—before a warm, rich laugh escaped him. It was a sound you hadn’t expected, a sound that cut through the tension and made your own lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

Azriel shook his head, still chuckling softly. “You’re not a dumbass, Y/N. Just… someone who cares a lot about her friend.”

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the weight of the misunderstanding began to lift. But even with the air between you lightened, you couldn’t shake the lingering worry, the uncertainty of what this all meant.

“I just… I don’t know you that well,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. “And this bond… it’s a lot to take in. I was so worried about Elain’s feelings that I didn’t even stop to think about how I felt. About how to navigate this.”

Azriel’s expression softened further, and he took a careful step closer, making sure not to crowd you. “I understand. The bond is… overwhelming, especially when it comes out of nowhere. And I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that’s something we can work on. We don’t have to rush into anything, Y/N. We can take this one step at a time, if that’s what you need.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the bond had snapped. There was no pressure in his eyes, no demand—just a quiet patience that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else, something warmer.

“But… what if this doesn’t work?” you asked, your voice small, the fear you had been trying to suppress finally finding its way out. “What if I can’t be what you need?”

Azriel’s eyes softened even more, and he shook his head gently. “Y/N, you don’t have to be anything but yourself. The bond doesn’t demand perfection—it’s just a connection, a starting point. We figure the rest out together.”

You swallowed, feeling the sincerity in his words. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but it was tempered now by something else—a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

“Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, but Azriel caught it nonetheless.

He smiled softly, his wings shifting slightly as if in relief. “Okay,” he echoed. “One step at a time.”

For a moment, you both stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, the bond humming faintly between you. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was something. And for the first time since the bond had snapped, you felt like maybe you could handle this—together.

Azriel extended his hand, not as a demand, but as an offer. “How about we start with something simple? A walk, maybe? Just to talk, get to know each other.”

You hesitated for a moment, the anxiety still lingering, but then you nodded slowly, reaching out to take his hand. His grip was warm, reassuring, and as his fingers closed around yours, you felt a little of that fear ease away.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “A walk sounds good.”

And as you both stepped out of the kitchen, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something worth taking a chance on.

#azriel fic #rhysand #azriel #cassian #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #sword #a court of thorns and roses #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x you #elain

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poshmina · 9 months

Text

A Tale of Two*Very Sensitive* Wings

Azriel X !Fem Reader

Warnings: (18+ Mature) wingplay, size kink, light angst, getting caught

Word Count: 5k+

Background: You are a long lost Archeron half-sister and your dad sends a message asking if your sisters will provide you with refuge. They oblige, bringing you back to the night court to reside with them and the rest of the inner circle. The story begins after A Court of Mist and Fury when Nesta lets slip to you at dinner that Azriel thinks he’s your mate. At first, this shocks you, as you are still human and are not accustomed to the traditions of the Fae. However, as time goes on you’ve begun to feel drawn to him. You spend your time in the Night Court learning healing practices, since you have no magical power and cannot fight with the rest of them. You’ve been staying in the House of Wind with Azriel, and though you see him often and want to get closer to him, he is always quiet and withdrawn, leaving you confused wondering how someone so distant could be your mate?

The floor of the House of Wind shudders as an Illyrian male lands on the balcony. You look up from where you’d been sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, and watch his shadow cross the balcony. You can’t make out his face in the darkness, but you know who it is anyhow.

Azriel crosses the threshold of the doorway into the dining room, his long wings tucked against his back. He hardly casts you a passing glance as he breaches the room, shadows swirling around him, seemingly not in the mood to chat tonight. You’ve gotten used to the quiet, brooding demeanor of your housemate, and usually you don’t press. Except tonight there’s blood on his face, in his hair, and on his clothes. As he walks, pieces flake off and scatter across the floor, meaning it’s been there long enough to dry. Meaning he likely left his wounds untreated the entire flight here, meaning he risked passing out mid flight and tumbling to his death due to blood loss.

You shove your chair out from behind you and stand, the sound echoing across the hall. “How long have you been bleeding?”

He doesn’t pause, or even look over his shoulder to address you. “It’s not mine.”

By this point, he’s halfway across the room, apparently planning to head to his quarters without having someone check his wounds. That’s when you notice it, a myriad of tears across his wings as if he’d been struck with arrows and then yanked them back out. The blood on his wings is most definitely his own.

“Azriel!” It comes out as a mix between a shout and a plea. You can tell yourself you don’t really care about him, that you would harass anyone until they got treated, except this is more than medical obligation. You’re beginning to care for him.

He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t look over his shoulder. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he insists.

You cross the room towards him. “Clearly you’re not! There are holes in your wings. You’re so covered in blood there’s no way even you could tell if there were wounds hidden beneath. You have to get treated!”

He lets out an irritated sigh and finally turns to face you. “Y/N, you don’t have to involve yourself in this. It’s none of your business.”

Gods, you can’t believe him. “You made it my business when you came in tracking blood across the house. Either go see a healer, or let me take a look.”

You don’t know why you’re so insistent. He could be fine. He’s been alive for hundreds of years and surely knows his physical limits. Except you’re so tired of him keeping you at arm's length, so tired of his closed off, brooding attitude.

He hesitates, jaw clenched, but doesn’t agree.

“Just let me help you,” you plead.

For a moment, you think you see behind his mask, the cold exterior he keeps up around you. You think he’s going to say yes.

Instead he draws further on himself and pushes you further away. “I’m fine, Y/N. Worry about yourself.” He turns to disappear down the hallway, but doesn’t get two steps before you’re walking after him. You don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re sick of his games. Sick of waiting and wondering if he’ll ever make a move. If he even likes you. Every feeling you bottled up from the past few months comes to a head, tumbling out of you.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, exasperated.

He wheels around to face you, unable to mask the surprise on his face, “What?”

“I said what is wrong with you! You’re always irritated, or distant, or avoidant. You actively avoid me even though I’ve done nothing but be kind to you. You act like I’m a thorn in your side even though I have every right to be here in this house with you.” You jab a finger towards the floor to solidify your point. “Do you think I asked to be here? To be taken from my home and thrust into this strange kingdom, with your strange Fae traditions, where everyone is older, and faster and stronger than me?” He blinks, stunned into silence by your sudden outburst.

“Do you think I asked to have you as my mate?”

Immediately, you wish you could take it back. You hadn’t meant for that to come out at all, let alone in such an accusatory tone. Really, you don’t mind the thought of him as your mate. That is, if you could explore the bond together. If he would quit shoving you away.

His shadows flare, and the scowl you've become so accustomed to returns. “Who told you that?”

“I—” You fumble over your words, “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

He takes a step closer, and all of the sudden you get a very real sense of his height as he towers over you. “Doesn’t matter, you already did. Now who told you?”

You reel to find something to distract him, not wanting to put the blame on Nesta. Your relationship with your new sister is so new and fragile, you can’t drive a wench in it. “I deserved to know Azriel. It’s not like you were going to tell me.”

His gaze flickers, and you swear you see a flash of pain in those eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

The sting of rejection pangs sharp in your chest. He didn’t want you to find out this way, or he didn’t want you to find out at all? All these months avoiding you, acting like he wants nothing more than for you to poof out of his life and return where you came from. You tried to ignore the fear, tried to push it away, but now the reality crashes over you. Your mate doesn’t want you at all.

“Well now I know and I don’t expect anything from you.” You jab a finger towards his chest. “I know I’m human and I’m weak and you didn’t ask for me either. But it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.” You take a shuddering breath, and a weight seems to fall off your shoulder with all of those words out. You realize you’ve moved closer to him and take a step back.

“Nicer,” he repeats, watching you intently.

“Yes,” you huff. “We don’t have to be anything more than acquaintances. Housemates, even. But you don’t have to be such a dick.” You cross your arms and level him a stare.

He sighs, shaking head in disbelief. “Fine. What exactly does this relationship of acquaintance entail?” One of his wings shudders behind him, and from the wince on his face you can tell it wasn’t on purpose. You look at it pointedly.

“Letting me help you would be a start.”

There’s a final moment of hesitation, drawn out long enough that you think he might actually turn you away. Except then he shakes his head, and as if it physically pains him to do so, says, “As you wish.” Without another word he turns down the hall to head to his rooms. You take a moment of pause, wondering if you pushed too far. The male in front of you is not just any man, he’s a centuries old Illyrian warrior with power beyond your comprehension. Any relationship with him could be dangerous, acquaintance or no.

But he turns back to you. “You coming?” And for some reason you can’t help but follow.

—

“Fuck.” He shudders beneath your hands. The blood was not, in fact, entirely his opponents. He had two gashes, one across his abdomen and the other along his bicep. Although his fae blood was already beginning to heal them, you insisted he let you stitch them up in order to avoid scarring.

You thread the needle through his skin and finish the final stitch, clipping the string you used to sew him up and sitting back to admire your handiwork. You may not have magic, but you quickly excelled in the healing arts.

“All done,” you tell him. He lifts his head from where it had been bowed against his arms and inspects your work. If he’s impressed or not, you can’t tell. He shows nothing on his face, not even a hint of pain from the wounds still remaining on his wings.

“Now for your wings,” you shift to stand behind him, biting your lip as you try to decide a course of action. Wings can’t be stitched up, they have to heal naturally, and take longer than most ailments to close. The best you can offer is to apply a numbing salve to curb the pain for now. You’re about to tell him that when he says—

“I can handle it.”

You knit your eyebrows. “I’m already here. You won’t be able to reach behind you. If I don’t numb them you’ll be in serious pain all night.”

Put so plainly you’re unsure how he could refuse. He does anyhow. “I don’t need numbing salve. You’ve done plenty, thank you.” And just like that he dismisses you. Except now that he’s washed the blood from his skin you can see just how pale he is, and with the pain he won’t be able to get a lick of sleep, slowing the healing process altogether.

You prop a hand on your hip. “As your healing professional I would strongly advise against that.” You don’t understand his reluctance, and every time he says no to help, it only makes you want to push further.

He looks up at you, and for the first time in maybe forever, one side of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Healing professional, huh?”

You shrug. “The closest you have to one, at least.”

He tilts his head back and mutters a prayer to the Mother. “You’re not going to leave until I let you do this, will you?”

“It’s unlikely.”

He gives an exasperated sigh, then leans over the desk he’d been sitting at, baring his wings to you. “Make it quick.” His voice is muffled by the cradle of his arms. You can’t help but smirk at the success. Progress. This is progress.

A few minutes later the house has summoned a jar of numbing salve for you and you are standing over him, preparing to begin your work.

“This may sting for a moment, but once it settles it will fade.” He grunts in response. “I’ll be gentle,” you add. You scoop a generous portion out of the jar, warming it between your fingers before applying it. You decide to start at the outskirts where the tears are thinner and not as gruesome. Hovering a hand over his wing, you pause for a moment before gingerly spreading the salve on him. He tenses immediately, hissing through his teeth before relaxing as it settles in.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Fine.” His tone is clipped.

Taking that as permission, you continue along the edges of his wings, applying and waiting for him to adjust before moving to the next. As far as cooperation goes, he is the ideal patient. He doesn’t so much as shift a muscle while you work, and remains deadly silent. If it weren’t for his fists resting on the table clenched to the point his knuckles are white, you would think it was painless.

Once you finish the outer ring of his wings, you pause. “I’m going to tackle the deeper ones now. Do you need a break?”

“Don’t bother.” His voice comes out muffled, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared into the space between his arms where his head is caged. He’s likely biting at his finger to distract from the pain.

“Would you like something to bite on?”

��For a moment there’s no response, then his hand returns into sight on the desk. “I’m fine, Y/N. Please continue.” He says as if you’re a nagging insect buzzing at his ear rather than the only person trying to help him.

With a huff, you dip your fingers into the jar again, and begin to spread the salve near the base of his wings. This time, you aren’t quite so gentle.

He lets out a strangled sound beneath you, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Immediately, you feel guilty, and start to take more care with the application, massaging slow, deliberate circles into the muscles of his wings. You can feel the muscles around the tears shudder and relax as you go. He curses beneath your hands.

You’ve almost reached the last, and nastiest, of his wounds when he abruptly shoves his chair backwards and stands, causing you to lose your balance. You nearly fall on your ass before catching yourself on the desk.

“That’s enough,” he nearly shouts at the same time you say, “What the fuck, Azriel?” His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he glares down at you. He distinctly seems to angle his body away from you.

“I wasn’t finished,” you argue.

He looks up at the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “You’ve done plenty.” Instinctively, your eyes fall to his stomach to double check the work you’d done earlier. Instead, your eyes snag on something a few inches lower.

Your eyes widen as you take in the obvious bulge straining against his leathers.

Oh.

One of the first things you’d learned about treating the Fae is that wings are very sensitive. They are to be handled with the utmost care, their delicate construction requiring practiced healing applications. However, in all your training, nobody had deigned to mention sensitive goes hand in hand with pleasurable.

His eyes flare as you look back up at him, cheeks heating. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words don’t come. He merely continues to stare at you with that heated gaze.

“I should go,” the words come out of you in a frenzied rush. He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. “I just— I didn’t realize,” now that you’ve started, you can hardly stop yourself. “This is all so new to me. I wouldn’t have if I’d known—”

“Now you know.” If he means it to be harsh, it doesn’t come out that way, but rather like a plea.

“I should go,” you say again, but can hardly move a muscle. With him standing there and looking at you like that, with the distance between you so small. You feel as if you're drowning, and he is the current pulling you further under.

You let out a small gasp as you feel a featherlight touch on your cheek. One of his shadows has crept across the room, and whether he intended it or not, is caressing you gently. Instinctively, you lean into it.

A few paces away, you watch his lips part as he watches you. He doesn’t recall his shadow. Instead, it inches closer, brushing across your lips. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare breathe.

“Azriel,” you whisper.

In a moment he’s upon you. The shadow dissipates, replaced by his hands cupping your face, his hips pushing you backwards until you're pressed against the desk. He kisses you with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his lips moving desperately against yours. You let out a whimper as he guides your lips apart, running his tongue across your own.

With every ounce of self control you have left, you manage to shove him away for a moment.

“I thought you hated me. I thought you didn’t want me as your mate.” You search his eyes for answers, for the cold, closed off man you’d known up until now.

“Hate you?” He tips his head back and laughs humorlessly. “If hating you means thinking about you every waking moment. If hating you means desperately wishing you’d appear outside my doorway every night. If hating you means not being able to even think about you without—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “If that’s what it means then sure, Y/N, I hate you.”

Your mind reels trying to process what he’s telling you. “You sure as hell acted like it.”

A flash of regret crosses through his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I wanted to give you time to adjust.”

Faintly, you remember what had happened when Lucien had sprung the mating bond on a newly transformed Elain. She can hardly stand to be in the same room as him, let alone pursue a relationship.

In a moment of boldness, you reach down and palm him through his leathers, watching as his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Consider me adjusted.” You yank him back down to you, crashing his lips against yours. He meets you with the same intensity, tongue and lips and teeth clashing in a heavenly dance. His hand slides up to your throat as he kisses you, holding gently. It’s only when you pull away to gasp for air when you realize his shadows are floating around you, cradling you both.

Your lips part in wonder. It’s beautiful, but you hardly get the chance to tell him so before he lifts you up on the desk and resumes the contact. His kisses stray from the side of your mouth, to your jaw and neck. He takes your ear between his teeth and tugs lightly, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hand cups your breast, and when the attention of his mouth lowers to your collarbones, you lean back to shuck your shirt off. He palms your breast greedily, reaching behind you to undo your bra clasp before taking a moment to stare. You feel your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze, and have the urge to cover yourself again.

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect Y/N,” he mutters before lowering his mouth to your nipple and closing his mouth upon it, sucking and swirling in a way that makes you arch into him. He gives your other breast equal attention until you're moaning and panting beneath him.

He retreats to relive himself of his armor. If there’s any remaining pain in his wings, he doesn’t show it. He steps close and positions himself between your legs, peering down at you. You reach out a hesitant hand and hover it over the tip of his wing. He watches your movements with rapt attention, nearly holding his breath with anticipation.

You brush a featherlight touch along the crest of his wings, and that touch alone is enough to cause him to shudder and groan under his breath. You can’t imagine how he stood still for so long earlier.

You reach down and tug at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. He obliges, tossing it aside, returning his attention to you. You take him in slowly, dragging a hand down the hard line of his abs, tracing his tattoos with your finger. He waits patiently, letting you have your fill. Unable to help yourself, you glance down at his hardness again, breath faltering as you take in exactly how big he is. From a distance, it seemed reasonable, but from this close…

He reaches out a hand to cup your face, peering into your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

Without a moment's hesitation, you say. “Yes. I want this Azriel. I want you.”

You watch relief flash in his eyes before he resumes his movements. His hands go to your waistband, and he unbuttons your pants before leaning in to whisper, “Lift your hips for me, “Y/N.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself so he can slide your pants over your hips and cast them aside. He repeats this motion with your underwear, baring you completely to him. And before you can even consider what’s to come next, he lowers himself to his knees in front of the desk, bringing his face directly in line with where you need him most. He places one long lick from your entrance to your crest, drawing a ragged gasp from you, then pulls away.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?” Your mind spins, because as he’s talking, his mouth is hovering over you and you can feel his breath as he speaks.

He dips a finger between your folds, dragging it up to circle your clit. “I’m gonna get you ready now so you can take me comfortably, alright?”

You hardly register what he’s saying, because his finger is moving fervently against you and you can already feel that coil of pleasure within you. You give a short nod in response.

Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure on your clit is gone. You look down to see him peering up at you, waiting for an answer. What did he say again?

He must sense you drawing a blank, because he smirks and repeats himself. “I need you to be good and do as I say so you can take me fully. Okay, Y/N?”

“Oh… Yes. Okay,” you nod fervently. It’s then you realize exactly what he’s saying to you. You heard rumors around the inner circle that Azriel had the biggest… wingspan… but you never imagined anything close to this.

Satisfied with your answer, he resumes again, lowering his mouth to take the place of his finger. He circles his tongue around your clit, then sucks gently. You’re already seeing stars when you feel his finger at his entrance and he slowly slides it into you.

You moan and arch off the desk, hands flying to his head to tangle in his hair. You chance a glance down at him, and the sight of him kneeling before you, wings looming over his shoulders, eyes dark with lust, almost sends you over the edge then and there.

He begins to pump into you slowly, curling every so often to hit a spot that makes you writhe and moan. You’re just at the crest of your orgasm when he adds another finger. You hadn’t expected it, and the new sensation causes your hips to jerk as you gasp in pleasure.

“Azriel I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Hold on a little longer for me, Y/N.”

You curse, trying to dampen the pleasure growing inside you. It’s all too much, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth and bite on your knuckle to keep from coming. He slows his movements for a moment, purposefully torturing you and keeping you on that edge.

A moment later, everything resumes with increased intensity. He pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you in a way you’ve never felt before. You gasp, shutting your eyes against the pleasure, and when you open them again, he is standing in front of you, never stopping the pace of his fingers. He raises his other hand to circle your clit. The pleasure reaches a new crest, and you find yourself grasping onto the desk just to find something to ground you.

“That's it. Come for me now,” he whispers, eyes never leaving you as the orgasm washes over you. You shudder as you come down from it, hips bucking against his hand. When you finally open your eyes you find your hand intertwined with his.

He gazes down at you, and the hint of a smile crosses his face. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect, Y/N.”

You blush and attempt to catch your breath as he rids himself of his pants and aligns himself with your entrance. You cast a glance down, taking him in in all his glory. He rubs his tip through your folds and sighs at the contact, before leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Tell me if it hurts and we’ll stop,” he promises. You nod, dismissing his worries. You sincerely doubt he could do anything to hurt you based on how amazing you’ve felt so far. And regardless, you trust him, trust the rigid self control he’s shown you all these months in the house together.

You feel his tip prodding your entrance, then he sinks the first few inches in. You sigh at the sensation, tilting your head to steal a kiss. With that for motivation, he pushes in a little further, looking down at you with worry in his eyes.

“Okay?” he asks.

You let out a breathless laugh, “Better than okay.”

You watch his face soften, and he pushes the boundary a bit further. You look down to watch him sink in, and are shocked to see he’s only halfway sheathed. You can already feel yourself beginning to stretch around him. The feeling is foreign, but not painful.

When you look back up at him, his face is strained in an expression that nearly looks painful. He’s holding himself back, hesitating to keep a firm grip on that iron self control of his. You reach up to run your hand through his hair, catching his eyes.

“I’m okay Azriel. I’m not going to break,” you reassure him.

You can tell by his curt not that he doesn’t believe it. He advances another slow, languid inch, and you buck against him impatiently.

“Azriel,” you level him a look.

He sighs. “I know. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still human and—”

“And I’m okay. This is okay. This is good.” You rotate your hips enjoying the pleasurable sensation it brings. He hisses through his teeth above you, and his hips jerk forward only slightly. You enjoy pushing him, enjoy making him lose control.

But there's still so much of him left, and you can’t stand the delicate line he’s walking. You want him fully, and you want him now. You reach behind him, grabbing his ass to shove him the rest of the way in. You gasp as he makes a strangled sound above you. There’s a hint of the pain he was so worried about, but it falls to the wayside as you're entirely overwhelmed by pleasure.

“Fuck,” he groans as he finally starts to move freely. Slowly at first, then with increased urgency. He pulls his hips back and rolls them into you, hitting a spot so deep within you it feels like you’re one in the same. You watch as his control slips, and his hips snap into you, inching you backwards on the desk.

“Yes, Azriel, yes,” you tell him as he picks up the pace, fucking you so hard the desk begins to bang against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Fucking Azriel is a sensation unlike any you’ve known before. He fills you perfectly, bending to place kisses along your breasts and collarbones. Holding your hips to slam into you at an impeccable pace.

He shifts, looping his arms under your knees, and then there’s only air beneath you as he picks you up and presses you against the wall, fucking you into it. You gasp and weave your hands into his hair, tugging lightly. You feel his thrust getting quicker, jerkier, but before he comes he switches you again, bending you over the desk and fucking you from behind. You cry out at the change in angle, and your hands fly to the edge of the desk, holding tightly.

You feel him leaning over you as he places a kiss on your back. “This is what I wanted. Everytime I avoided you, everytime I pushed you away, it was because of how badly I wanted this.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly hard thrust and you cry out as you feel his hand intertwine with your hair. It all becomes too much, and you feel yourself approaching the edge again when he wraps a hand around to your front, finding your clit and sending you spiraling. He fucks you through it, steady, hard, barely giving you a chance to come down before his hips jerk and you feel him finish. He curses, seating himself fully inside you as he rides out his orgasm.

When he pulls out, you are panting and breathless and sated with pleasure. You turn around to see his shadows scattered across the room, filling every crevice and corner.

It’s then that you both hear footsteps coming down the hall. His eyes widen, and he hurriedly steps in front of you to block you from view, covering himself with his hands.

Cassian round the corner, fury in his gaze. “What the fuck Azriel. The entire city is covered in shadows. Rhysand thinks you’re– Oh.” He stops in his tracks, cheeks turning pink as he lifts a hand to cover his eyes.

“Cassian?” Azriel says, his voice strained.

“Yea?” His voice sounds choked in his throat.

“Get the fuck out.”

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader

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obliviouscxnt · 9 months

Text

Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much.

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor.

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others.

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her.

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch.

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.”

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden.

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings.

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much.

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words.

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous.

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.”

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.”

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,”

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you. An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it.

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams.

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming.

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you.

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.”

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.”

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation.

You squeeze back.

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke.

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway.

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph.

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you.

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm.

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers.

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity.

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity.

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise.

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours.

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.”

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge…?”

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.”

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face.

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.”

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?”

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.”

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it.

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.”

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly.

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you.

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice.

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life.

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you.

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you.

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front.

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to.

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings.

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely.

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn.

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact.

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him.

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him.

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded.

“Touch me.” He commands.

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron

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cressidagrey · 3 months

Text

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 2

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings:

Elain Bashing, Angst, Nesta threatening bodily harm, Amren being mean.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel was a lot of things. A knight however was not one of those.

He was a bastard, a shadowsinger, the spymaster of the night court. He had fought in wars, tortured, killed, slaughtered, and bathed in the blood of his enemies…figuratively and literally in a sense.

But Azriel had never once been considered to be a knight.

Not until he had met a slip of a human girl who never had the acrid smell of fear clinging onto her like he had expected.

To Eira Archeron, Azriel had been a knight.

He still wasn’t quite sure what he had done to give that impression…how she had heard Spymaster as a human and then continued to call him Sir when he had returned to the human lands to make his preparation to talk to the Human Queens.

She had stopped calling him that at his request…she had been more than content to let Elain do the talking. And his attention had snapped from her, to her twin sister…flawlessly polite and beautiful.

Azriel easily admitted that between the threat of the war and the worry of the future..somehow his attention had stayed there.

And he hadn’t thought much more about the fourth Archeron Sister.

Not when the other three had demanded his attention in a myriad of ways…from Feyre as High Lady, to Nesta with the problems she had adjusting or Elain, who had suffered beautifully and pined away for her human life.

Eira…Eira hadn’t been anything to worry about, because she had done nothing.

Hadn’t done anything but tried to be no trouble for any of them. And succeeded. No need to pay attention to her, because she hadn’t done anything. Ever.

She had found herself work as a seamstress, seemed to adjust well to Velaris and her new Fae body…and that had been that.

She was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma…and Azriel hadn’t even realised it.

He had become complacent… had started to have a fucking blind spot right in front of his face…and he hadn’t noticed.

Too busy with himself…with his own overly emotional moping, because he had felt unfairly treated… and had come away from that with a chip on his shoulder the size of the continent and the mulish expression of a teenage boy on his face…

He had admitted that too.

At last, he had realised it…at least before he had done any lasting damage, Rhys’ words rattling around his brain and seemingly dousing him in cold water.

It had been an infatuation with Elain…nothing more. Jealousy about his brothers both finding their mate in such a short period…Feeling unfairly treated...

And Azriel didn’t even have the excuse of his age for it like he had with Mor. He had been so young when he had fallen head over heels in love with her…His centuries spent pining painfully away were a choice he had made because Mor was unattainable...

So really, these days, Azriel had no excuse that it had taken that long…

Weekly dinners had been a tradition for centuries. And they were not going to stop with them now. Especially not with Nyx there now, who enjoyed the attention of everybody doting on him…though he had one clear favourite.

Azriel entered the dining room to Nyx’s loud chanting of “Ra! Ra! Ra!” which was the universal sign that he wanted Eira to hold him and nobody else.

Feyre relinquished her son with a snort, letting Eira take him and settle him on her hip, pudgy little baby arms immediately flying around her neck.

He blinked once at Eira’s appearance…at the sight of her in a grey dress, high-necked and covering her from her wrist to her ankles, cut high at her neck. Not out of the usual for her. He had not once seen her in the traditional Night Court fashions of tops and trousers…But what did surprise him…that was her hair…

Usually, it was scraped back into a messy knot at the base of her skull…well, now it fell down to her waist in perfect ringlets…held back from her face with two gilded hair combs. Beautiful.

She took her seat and he moved to sit across from her, like he always did… like he was in a trance, somehow so taken by her that he couldn’t help himself.

Eira smiled at Nyx in her arms, bright, pearly white teeth showing. He had never seen her smile like that either.

And then her eyes met his… that smile changing from brightly happy to painfully polite…

And with one look… everything changed.

Lightning crackled along his veins. Crackled through his whole body, his hands tightening into fists as for a moment he didn’t know what happened.

It caught around his ribs like a whip, tying him to her for eternity. And Azriel could just stare at her, wide-eyed, as she went back to doting on Nyx like nothing had happened…

Everything inside him was rearranged, a place carved out inside his chest just for her…just for Eira.

For Eira with her big silver eyes, her delicate little hands…

He had always liked her…liked her soft voice, and how she had filled the silence so that he didn’t need to say anything, do anything, but hang onto her every word…liked how she had made it so easy for him to be around her…how she had seemingly always tried to be helpful, always tried to be kind…

Finally! the shadows crooned. Finally, Master! That took you long enough!

They had known.

They had known?! Since when…how…

He watched in terror how a tendril of shadows appeared over Eira’s shoulder and waited for her to flinch back…but nothing happened. Eira didn’t even seem to notice it, as she was cutting food in smaller pieces for Nyx, feeding him, his blue eyes wide, staring at his aunt in adoration. His little wings fluttered against her hold and she adjusted, seemingly without a thought…doting on Nyx.

Eira Archeron was going to be the death of him.

Azriel knew that already.

Because it already felt like she was crushing his very heart in the palm of her hands…because everything he had spent centuries begging, pleading, praying for, was right there, sitting in front of him and ignoring his very existence.

Eira.

Everything he wanted…right there, where he had last expected it.

“Az, do you want the salad now, or am I just supposed to wave it in front of your face for another five minutes?” Cassian asked him, voice dripping with sarcasm, and that finally managed to get him to function again.

“Thank you,” he managed to force out, pulled all the wayward shadows in his nearer surroundings to him with a harsh tug at their metaphorical leash and took the salad from his brother.

Salad. Dinner.

And then…cauldron boil him, he needed to…figure out what he was going to do with…

His blood was rushing in his ears and he was thankful to sit because otherwise, he would have already fainted. His heart was pounding in his chest, far too fast…worse than it had in centuries…even while fighting for his life.

“Are you alright?” Cassian asked him carefully and he just about managed a nod. “You don’t look too good.”

He probably didn’t.

“I am fine,” he forced out.

Great even. He was…

Mate, some instincts inside him purred. Mate.

Our mate, the shadows sang, so very pleased. Ours!

He forced himself to eat. Even when every part of him ached for Eira to turn to him like she usually did during dinners…and start a conversation about something or other…Listen to her voice.

She did nothing of that sort that evening, doting on Nyx, though her soft whispers to the little boy made something inside him ache.

“So what else happened this week?” Rhys asked at that moment, clearly trying to start a conversation, something that didn’t involve Keir in Hewn City being an absolute pain.

“Eira got her teeth changed,” Elain spat out and Azriel was so taken aback by that tone of her voice that he needed a moment until the words registered…until…

Eira got her teeth changed? Why had she done that? She was already perfect. There was no reason to change anything.

He couldn’t help but stare at her, again or once more or…and he watched the blush rise high on her cheeks, see how uncomfortable she was as the attention of the table shifted to her.

“You had your teeth changed, Eira?” Rhys asked, sounding as taken aback as Azriel was feeling.

“I did,” Eira agreed, her voice quiet.

“Look at me?” Nesta requested, two seats down from him and he watched as Eira bared her teeth.

Perfect pearly white teeth. Uniform in size. No trace anymore of the two big incisors that had sat inside her mouth. They had been just a smidgen too big for her. It had been charming as far as he was concerned. But now they were all…all perfectly even.

“It looks great,“ Nesta said. “But they were fine before as well.” A sort of understanding passed between Nesta and Eira, a look between the same grey eyes they shared that Azriel didn’t understand but wished he would

“I like it more like this,” Eira admitted, her voice quiet, going back to take care of Nyx. Nesta inclined her head.

“Then that’s all that matters.” And that was that.

As long as she was happy, Azriel couldn’t care less. If she liked this more, then she should have whatever made her happy.

“You actually agree with her? Nesta!” Elain exclaimed and Nesta stared at Elain, lips pursing for once, seemingly disagreeing with her sister.

“They are Eira’s teeth,” Nesta said with a shrug. “As long as they are attached to her mouth, I think she can do whatever she wants with them.”

Azriel tended to agree. Her teeth. If she liked them like that…well, that was that then.

“You should have had them made into fangs. You could use them, Girl,” Amren commented drily.

Eira said nothing in response, her shoulders seemingly caving in.

His shadows bristled so sharply that he nearly flinched, hissing quietly, Our Mate. Our Mate! She doesn’t need fangs, but the tiny ancient one needs her throat ripped out!

He glared at them, but they ignored that. Instead, some of them bitched under their breath about anything Elain had to say…while some others were waxing poetically about the gleam of Eira’s hair in the candlelight.

So beautiful, they purred in his ear. So pretty. Doesn’t her hair glow like gold like this? Like a halo…

It was decisively unhelpful. Even when they were right.

Especially because it frayed what little self-control he had. What little self-control he had that stopped him from going on his knees before her right now and begging her for…something, anything…everything.

His ruined hands curled into fists as the shadows continued with their little monologue.

Nyx seemed to be content to tuck his head against Eira’s shoulder and play with one big ringlet of that gleaming hair as he fell asleep, yawning widely.

That seemed to be all the excuse Eira needed as she stood up. “I’ll put him to sleep,” Eira offered quietly as she stood. She hadn’t said a single word that evening unless it was talking to Nyx or Nesta asking her a question. Had stayed quiet. Silent.

He missed her voice.

He couldn’t stop the shadows from rushing out to pull her chair back so that it made no noise, fighting with them for control as they insisted on clinging to her skirts. “I’ll be up early tomorrow…I thought I could take Nyx to that playground he likes,” Eira said at that moment looking at Feyre and Rhys.

“Of course,” Feyre agreed with an indulging smile. “He loves the swing there.”

Eira left and he watched her go, trying to swallow and trying and failing his shadows from following along in one big massive cloud…

“Az, what was that?” Rhys asked with some amusement but he couldn’t bring out the words. Couldn’t say anything…could just pull open his metal shields and push it at Rhys, begging him to understand.

His brother’s eyes widened in pure undiluted shock.

*By the cauldron,* he breathed in Azriel’s mind.

“Are you both alright?” Cassian demanded, the shock being obvious on Rhys’ face.

*Congratulations, brother,* Rhys said quietly in his mind, carefully. *I hope this isn’t…unwelcome?*

Unwelcome? How could this be unwelcome?

This was…This was everything he had ever wanted.

“Yes,” Rhys said, clearing his throat. “I am fine, and Az will be… alright.”

Oh, he would be. He would be more than alright. He just…needed to...He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart thump against the touch.

“You sure about that?” Cassian asked drily. “You look a bit green around the gills, Az. How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody is carving up my chest,” he managed to bring out.

It was the truth. That mating bond was like a razor wire, tied around his ribcage, sharp and painful. He wasn't sure if that was even normal or if that was just him trying to get used to it, if it was, just the shock that finally he had a mating bond himself or...

“Well, that sounds healthy,” Cassian said sharply, reaching out with one broad hand to put it on Azriel’s shoulder and squeezing. Warm, solid…giving him something to concentrate on.

“Give him a moment,” Rhys said with a pointed look. “He’ll be fine once he catches his breath.”

He just needed...

She's fine, Master, the shadows assured him. Just singing the Princeling to sleep.

“You want some water?” Nesta asked, already moving to stand.

“What the fuck is going on?” Cassian demanded, his voice sharp.

He had no idea what he was supposed to say.

“The mating bond snapped for him,” Amren drawled drily. “He’s just being dramatic about it.”

Dramatic? He was being dramatic?

Azriel hadn’t thought he would get this for half a millennium!

*Careful, Az,* Rhys said into his mind. *She does not mean it like that.*

He harshly pulled at the shadows that had been striking out on their own, getting ready to make their displeasure known to Amren.

“What? To whom? You?” Cassian asked, the hand tightening nearly painfully.

“If that was the case, I would be utterly uninterested,” Amren said with a snort. “But I imagine.. it must be Eira.”

It was deathly quiet in the room after that declaration, all the eyes on him.

Elain broke the stifling silence.

“Is that a joke?” She asked, sounding utterly aghast. “Your mate is Eira?”

He couldn’t help the snarl that broke out of his throat, Cassian's grip turning from supportive to warning in an instant, the shadows poising themselves to attack.

“Careful,” Rhys said quietly. “His instincts are primed. And his control is…not what it should be right now.”

*Reign it in, Az. Nobody is going to take her from you,* Rhys warned him.

“We are all just…surprised!” Mor hurried to add, exchanging a look with Feyre next to her, who was paling rapidly. “Congrats! She has been having a crush on you for years!”

What?

“Oh gods,” Feyre murmured under her breath.“I…I may have really messed up,” she admitted with a grimace.

Not exactly what Azriel wanted to hear.

A glance was exchanged between Rhys and Feyre.

“You told her to get over her crush?” Rhys said surprised, blinking once. Feyre just nodded. “When?”

“2 days ago? After she got her teeth changed…I thought she only did it for Azriel,” Feyre admitted quietly.

“Why would you do that, Feyre?!” Nesta demanded sharply.

“Were you trying to protect Azriel’s virtue?” Cassian asked with a snort, trying to find some levity in that situation even when Azriel was starting to get furious. “Don’t worry, there is nothing left for you to protect.”

“I didn’t want there to be any problems. And she was annoying you at every dinner,” Feyre tried to explain. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

“Annoying me?” He repeated, unable to believe what he was hearing. “She wasn’t annoying me!”

“Making you uncomfortable then,” Elain amended quickly. “She talked to you constantly.”

Yes. And it had never bothered him one bit.

He would rather just listen to her talk, to one person talking, than to take part in the loud and raucous conversations that could go on for hours.

If anything…he had welcomed it as a respite. In Eira’s little world, there weren’t really any…there were no bloodyproblems to take care of, no weapons…she talked about embroidery and fabrics and books she had been reading…her world was so soft.

“If that bothered me, I would have said something,” he bit out. He didn’t need Feyre to protect his virtue. Or Elain. Or anybody else.

“I thought you would be too polite for that,” Feyre admitted with a grimace. Before he could respond, Elain beat him to it.

“Does it even matter?” She asked, crossing her arms as she stood. “It’s Eira. It’s not like you’ll actually want her,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ll be upstairs.”

It was pure shock that kept him rooted to his chair. Pure shock that stopped him from lunging across the table, at Elain’s throat because how dare she?!

The shadows hissed, spitting mad, whirling around him, a mess of voices, bombarding him with suggestions of what he should do about this, about that kind of disrespect to his mate.

Want her? He didn't just want her, he needed her!

To his surprise, it was Nesta, Nesta of all people who slammed her hands onto the table, who stared him down with sparkling grey eyes, steel in them.

It wasn't Nesta who stared him down. It was Lady Death herself. “You lay one finger on Eira where she doesn’t want it and I’ll hack off your fucking hands!” She snapped at Azriel.

He swallowed. He could only incline his head in response.

“We’ll deal with all of this tomorrow,” Rhys pointedly, with a sigh, making an executive decision. “After our visit to the Hewn City.”

*Can I trust you not to tell her for one night?* he asked Azriel mentally. *Let Feyre talk to her first and apologise?*

*Tommorow,* he agreed. He didn’t want to tell her now…not when she was tired and wanting to sleep. Tomorrow.

Still, without a conscious thought he sent the shadows to check on her…finding her up in her room, getting ready for bed.

Safe. Content.

His.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #lightning in a bottle #azriel x oc #my writing #azriel x Reader #azriel x archeron!reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x original character

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imjustreadinglmao · 3 months

Text

BLUE PART II

Paring: Azriel x reader, Lucien x platonic!reader

Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots

A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 3.3k

It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.

As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.

All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.

Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.

Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.

I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.

Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.

Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.

I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.

Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”

Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”

I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.

Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”

With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”

I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.

———————————————————

Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.

As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.

I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.

Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.

I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.

Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”

But his words do little to calm me.

“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.

I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”

Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”

Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”

Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.

But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”

My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.

“How do you know about the bond?”

Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”

She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”

I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.

——————————————————

Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.

Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.

Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.

I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”

Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”

Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”

Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”

I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”

Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.

As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.

Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.

How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...

It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.

One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.

He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.

Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.

———————————————————

After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.

Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”

Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.

Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”

I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.

“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.

Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.

We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.

“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”

“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.

Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”

I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.

The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.

The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.

As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.

His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.

“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.

He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”

———————————————————

Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.

Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.

As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.

Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.

Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.

Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”

Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”

Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.

My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”

Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”

“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”

Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.

And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.

Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.

Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”

In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.

“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

———————————————————

Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.

Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.

My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.

The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.

As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.

Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.

Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.

Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.

I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.

Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.

He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.

I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.

Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.

A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.

"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"

Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”

"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"

Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.

With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.

Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.

Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.

We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.

I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.

The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.

Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.

But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.

The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.

As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is dead.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #lucien x reader #azriel x you #writers on tumblr #eris acotar #rhysand #amren acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #azriel imagine

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kalims · 1 year

Text

ㅤdorm leaders being savages

summary. basically some backstabber mf tries to 'steal' him and... this is where the savage part starts

featuring. dorm leaders

content. bad friend, gender neutral reader, brutal rejection 😭

note. a full post after a while :')

malleus

I mean it's not like he would notice anyways, again. I firmly believe human and fae courting traditions are vastly different and c'mon... he doesn't even know what the fuck flirting is do you really think he'd get their intentions. 💀

when they start to slide up an arm in places he's quite bothered about, (cause guy is so whipped that he won't let anyone but him touch you.) he isn't even happy that someone is near his proximity anymore, not scared and whatnot.

just he no likey.

AND HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC HE JUST SHRUGS THEM OFF EVERYTIME. he's just a genuine innocent lil' dude who wants his lover to come and save him from this touchy, weird, human.

no child of man cause that's your name ‼️

while he may not get it, he's got a feeling, sixth sense of sorts and when he sees it he's backing tf up away. he's not gonna entertain the doubts.

also he still doesn't get it in the end lmaoooo, he's avoiding all their advances thinking it's a part of human... culture? that he wasn't made aware of.

if they start putting in the forbidden words in the same sentence as your name you know shits going down, suddenly he's not that confused, oblivious, cute guy that they saw but a much colder shell.

when his eyes darken, and it starts storming they'd had better run, he's been kind enough to stay even with their relentless annoying behavior but that is where he crosses the line fr.

don't even be surprised when they get hit by lightning and end up in the infirmary or something, malleus didn't even say anything to them cause he believes actions speaks louder than words... *sends touchy, weird human to the nurse.* see?

someone insults him: ?

someone insults you: 😠😡🤬👿🌩⚡

just goes: "your friend is very unpleasant, I'd appreciate it if you refrain from spending time with them."

something unsaid; spend all of that time with me duhhh

idia

you know what I'm surprised someone actually likes him tbh 😭 except us because we're all built different and we love disgustang discord mod behavior.

you know what's even more surprising? the fact that idia is actually seen by your friend group. I swear he comes out of his room like once a day and that's just because he's craving something else that isn't in his food stock and he's just gonna rob whose mac n' cheese was in the microwave.

and that's literally in his DORM ONLY.

he's like a vampire and allergic to sunlight, he's more willing to come out in the middle of the night because that's when the least 'normies' are scattered around like flies.

(if that counts for anything at all??)

but hanging out is more fun and if you somehow managed to convince idia to come with you with your friends for some well needed, 'socializing' then you're in luck!

besides that you had to bet one of your items in that open world game you played together... all is good!

im like 99% sure idia is disgusted by any other touch from other people, besides you? cause if you touch him he's just embarrassed... but in terms of the disgusted faction, you've been there before.

he immediately spots their intentions cause he definitely plays otome games and this is one of them cliche scenarios to 'spice up' the plot by invoking jealousy in it.

only difference is its him, you and this... random.

if they weren't already offended by the absolute mortification and disgust on his face, somehow continuing to 'rizz' him up.. oh boy. it's gonna get worse.

he's got the worst fucking 3rd grade insults like... "back away from me you noob, are you supposed to be their friend?" he scoffs, surprising them cause they thought he was gonna be that red flag discord romance experience.

"sorry but im not really sorry. i don't associate myself with lower levels such as yourself, try to come back when you're higher but I doubt they'd accept a fiend back."

LIKE WHO USES NOOB AS AN INSULT?

when you come back he's steering you away, pulling on the hem of your sleeves practically begging to come home with the promise of 'grinding that outrageous drop rate item you've asked his help with.'

something unsaid; doxxing them as soon as I get back

vil

ok this one I get.

who wouldn't want vil... it's not like I've made the entirety of the fandom known about my obsession with him as my favorite character or anything, not at all... jokes aside he's a very prominent candidate, he's hot and rich. you get it?

forget about the other qualities because we all known those two can carry someone in life alone, life in luxury and fame? sign them up ASAP.

besides your boyfriend being one of the superstar actors, models, the dream jobs for a dream man even your friends had a hard time believing you. you should be offended that they even considered that you were clinically.. delusional.

plus you didn't even seem to know about vil before so how are you dating him?!

they found out the hard way and safe to say they're flabbergasted because what even?

of course out of everyone here, vil has the most experience in terms of being approached on a baseless appearance only, he's iffed by how fast people get infatuated when they're barely scratching the surface of him.

well, you somehow dug your way deep with a shovel so you're the only exception he will allow...

at this point he knows what to expect the moment one of your friends gave him a look he's all the well too accustomed to. it's easy to ignore the ones he sees in crowds cause there's always some type of fence blocking them from fully proclaiming their love or something.

problem here is that this person has no obstacles and he can tell they're waiting for an opportunity to strike like a snake. *texts the pomefiore gc to tell them about this SNAKE!*

honey this is a big NO for him, you need to consider your circle of friends if one of them immediately starts folding around like this and wastes what? a longer friendship with you? please, he's known his stylists more and they literally get replaced every single day.

he's giving them the biggest, sassiest side eye ever. putting a palm up before they even get to speak because frankly, he does not want to hear it.

they open their knarly mouth. "i—"

he raises a finger. "no."

a frown. "but i—"

"shush."

he can do this forever.

when you come back he's still giving a bombastic, criminal offensive side eye, mentally thinking on how to ruin this person's life in media of course! his natural domain. just one word and the rest of his army will attack fr.

vil usually doesn't do this but seriously? that was another level of low.

also he's just by your side, you don't even have to say that he's your boyfriend because he's lowkey rubbing it in their face that he is in fact, taken.

"next time you try to see me again, might as well buy one of the tickets to my fan signings because you’re not seeing me again otherwise.. well, not like you can afford it anyways." *fabulous hair flip*

something unsaid; either way I'll kick you out if you try to get in

kalim

most safest person to flirt with, even if you're friends with their lover but also the most impossible to actually try and 'steal.'

the thing about kalim is that he's adorably stupid, not to degrade him in any shape or form but he's so oblivious about everything that you could consider it as one of his redeemable traits to be adorable.

he takes everything you say so seriously to the point where if you joke about wanting to water an entire continent he's just there with his carpet waiting for you cause he's gonna do exactly that.

"you're in luck cause I have a lot of water in me!" pops his non existent guns on his arms. (he is talking about his unique magic..)

it takes a remarkable mind to be like... that but you like him all the well about it, compliment his stupid-ness and he'll just grin, flush a little and laugh loudly as he compliments you back. not an ounce of anger in his tiny body.

red eyes but what a bright heart!

the type of guy that goes. "any friend of yours is a friend of mine!" so when he meets your friend group, casually just throws them a grand ball. they don't know whether to be flattered or.. concerned cause this is pretty weird.

not only was one of your friends awed over the mere value of many things inside the dorm he renovated, apparently his very huge bank full of gold was something to gasp over too.

and that's exactly what they did. (I mean get that bag sis but that bag is already owned by someone else and that's you... so that's not slay of you, random friend.)

here's when his nature proves to be quite relenting, even after many flirting, even using those cringe pickup lines from the internet, he just won't budge! it's getting irritating cause they're sure the people already heard the embarrassing words coming out of their mouth.

also that they were flirting with a non-legally married man. (to you ofc ofc.)

kalim either laughs at them because he thinks they were jokes, and just funny or laughs just because he's kalim.

he didn't really mind the casual touches at first, maybe it was friendly? he does it all the time after all but there was a stinking feeling that it felt weird and that alone was weird cause friendly pats were supposed to feel good.

not with you though cause those feel great!

accidentally shuts them down cause they're feeling like a third wheel when you come back after a bathroom break and it's like a total contrast to how he was treating them.

how do you seriously not notice kalim now unintentionally flirting with you?! are both of you airheads?!

he was literally all over you when you quipped up a "hi, I'm back."

and he was like; "welcome back :DDDD!!!!" if it wasn't already obvious they'd even add floating hearts emojis all over his head.

something unsaid; girl he didn't even notice anything was up...

azul

kinda a 50/50?

I'm not sure if most people really dig the whole 'bad reputation' thing. he's friends with the most terrifying twins in the entire campus, notably scammed a lot of people, can give wishes with an extreme price.

oh yeah he runs monstro lounge too but that just means he won't have time to spend with a lover.

that's their own imagination but azul's actually very sweet and gets some overworked junior to do the work for him, usually jade since floyd just leaves if he's given the job. JUST so he can go fret over which tie to use for your unofficial date.

despite him annoyed and losing sleep 24/7 because of the tweels he still asks them which one to use, jade's opinion is most trustworthy since floyd picks the neon, vibrant ones. (don't question why he even owns it.)

I doubt he actually likes people though, anyone else than you? hard pass. he's a simp through and through but unlike idia who can't mask the mortification and disgust on his face even at the cost of his life, good thing that masks are one of the many things azul is good at.

he slips up sometimes cause he genuinely thinks it's embarrassing that they're doing whatever this is to him, (well more of an attempt?) and to you, who is also their friend and his lover.

slip up as in his eye twitches, he flinches away a little too fast when they touch him, and his smile wobbles.

I mean no one would notice if he uses his magic on one, singular person...

mentally makes a note to remember whoever this was cause they're not stepping foot in octavinelle ever again.

+ an object of fun for the tweels. #gotormentthatlife!!

he's just a polite guy, so he won't just straight up insult them but he does warn them. the only thing holding him back from cooking a whole table is the crowd that would definitely spread the news of him going batshit.

like; "could you please, stop this? I hope you're not as stupid as you make yourself out to be because if you think I'm an idiot to not know what you're doing.. "

meanwhile his mind; "ugh this bitch. [redacted] [redacted] [redacted]."

I mean he's not that intimidating ALONE but when he gets all threatening like that (🥰) he could pass for an assassin fr.

just gets the tweels to deal with them cause he does not have the patience to deal with this backstabbing ho and it's wasting his precious time that should have been spent talking with you.

ugh he did not spend like 30 whole minutes picking out his tie and gloves just for this.

azul when he sees you coming back: 😇

something unsaid; [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted].

leona

oh boy, cover your eyes cause we're stepping onto another level of SAVAGE. you don't call lions that for NOTHING ‼️ beastman or just beast.

has the least filter out of everyone, as in he just doesn't give a single fuck, he's the chillest (agressive) guy on the twst planet so if the thought of wanting to insult some stranger that doesn't have a significance in his life at all pops up in his mind he ain't gonna change it lol.

gives the stinkiest eyes, even his tail and ears pause to synchronize with his thoughts cause if they had googly eyes they'd have a side eye too.

if he's laying down and they try pulling him upwards, tryna latch onto him? *just shoves them cutely.* problem solved.

leona's nice enough to let them off without losing something cause you really do mean something to him if he's holding back for your expense knowing that this is one of your 'friends.'

they don't even deserve to be called that!

like no one interrupts his peaceful nap times except for when he stands up to interrupt it himself just to drag you down with him.

wait so basically anyone but him???

he, really doesn't want to waste energy on this fool and to be honest they're really boring him since you went out to grab something you forgot. (but knowing this person for less than an hour in his life, they probably had something to do with that too.) so you aren't here to give him a reason to stay awake.

them rambling but in leona's eyes they're a blurry figure cause he's really sleepy.

then suddenly he's an iphone promax when he's looking at you 💀

if they already didn't take a hint from his earlier shove, the dirt isn't the only thing he's gonna shove someone into. there's a lake there for a reason other than keeping a home for the fishes y'know. never would know if they eat people too. /j

"would you shut up?"

yeah that's all he says but we all know how sharp it is to hear that from somebody so they immediately shut up. there's absolutely no need for any waste on energy of them, just one look from him and they're SILENT.

hopefully embarrassed too cause wtf was that??

unfortunately he can't fully enjoy his usually relaxing nap cause this random is corrupting the atmosphere even when they're silent, I swear they could shift and leona feels like one step closer to smacking 'it.'

ignored them every single time they tried to call out to him LOUDLY before but when you just silently step back on the field, he already peeks out an eye??? like no words needed.

what love does to a mf... sighs... another cold male lead we've lost to romance because of our mc <4

something unsaid; I was really questioning if keeping myself from strangling someone was worth it. took more effort than doing it literally

riddle

I'd have a crush on him too tbh.

unlike azul who already knew their intentions from the start, polite enough to kindly drop signs that he's not interested. riddle doesn't get it, he's just polite as well but also confused?

like he doesn't know they're tryna flirt, but he does think their actions are strange like c'mon. why are they trying to feel him up? he has no idea except the thought that he doesn't like it at all.

also it feels like he's betraying you so he just straight up pulls their arm away off of him firmly and shakes his head.

"stop this behavior."

he sighs.

surprisingly he's patient but also impatient???

consider this the first and last warning cause he WILL excuse himself if it ever goes on, riddle can wait for you browse through a whole store with him following you around and playfully commenting on your taste but can't wait for their attitude to get better.

he ain't gonna waste any more of his precious minutes on this period.

I don't know how to explain it, he's totally unaware of what they want, which is him ironically. but the reason he's rejecting their advances is because he's so devoted and a simp for you.

not a lot of people have the balls to converse or touch around him carelessly like that so freely so isn't it basic human courtesy to hold off all the physical affection till they're more acquainted?

well, not that riddle's not gonna let their current relationship advance any further from strangers at this point...

he's so loyal to you that it's cute jabskans.

riddle sticks to his principles, and he certainly has his own preferences for the personality of people. one of the traits he despises is when they don't understand his earlier warnings.

of course riddle isn't very forgiving, they're lucky they were even given a chance before cause even he, doesn't spare his dorm members a second chance when they break a rule he's been plenty lenient with.

so if you were given a chance, you better take it cause he's not giving you another.

like how since you did take your chance he's not gonna let you go now 😍.

isn't the type to be rude to people for matters he deems conflict being easily avoidable so he just makes up a believable excuse and walks away loool.

and they're like thinking; didn't he say he was tired and had to sleep since he stayed up planning the unbirthday party... why is he having a tea date with you???

suddenly he didn't look too tired at all compared to when he randomly slumped to look exhausted before??

something unsaid; 🥰🍵 what a successful unbirthday party *forgets about them immediately cause you're both having an unofficial date.*

note. ok so something unsaids are basically that but don't misunderstand, it's something they didn't say.

2K notes · View notes

starsxblazing · 9 months

Note

Hi! Could I request Azriel who’s mated to the youngest Archeron sister who loves their human traditions. Az finds her celebrating alone despite a whole party being set up, and learns she feels forced to attend solstice or starfall, maybe Rhys even scares her into it a bit, but when she worked hard to set up parties on human holidays, but her sisters always choose starfall? And she feels they force her to adapt to fae traditions while not even her sisters, let alone the others, even acknowledge human holidays, even though feyre said she considers both worlds her home. One that ends in a confrontation with angst would be nice, but happy ending or not is up to you, thanks.

I could have made a small series out of this ask and I really and truly enjoyed writing it. I had intended on a happy ending but this is pushing 5k words and would have taken a lot more for it. I hope it was along the lines of what you wanted!

---

Cause and Effect

From the moment that you were shoved in the cauldron, your life had changed to the point that you weren’t sure what to do. It had hurt that your own sister hadn’t bothered to stop what had happened to you, Nesta, and Elain but you understood since her friend was injured. Being the youngest of all of the Archeron sisters meant that you were always looked over. Nesta had always been worried about Elain and even though you were only a year younger than Feyre, it never made any difference.

You had always felt horrible that Feyre was the one responsible for keeping all of you fed but your sister refused to let you go with her when she hunted. There had always been an urge to help and try to make things better but as always, you were shoved to the back burner. Most human holidays were forgotten but for some reason, you remembered one in particular. No matter the fact that you tried each year to celebrate it, you were either scoffed at or told that it didn’t matter.

It was something that you held close to your heart because it brought you joy and you wanted it to do the same for your father and sisters. You were different from them in the sense that you wanted to do nothing but spread love and joy but everyone around you was too miserable to care.

The fae had their own traditions in separate courts you had learned but that piece of you that loved your holiday felt as if it were slowly dying. It had hurt your heart to see Feyre go back to the original court that she had once wanted to go to but you stayed silent and a few feet away from your other two older sisters. Mor had all three of you in an instant as soon as she was able to and took the three of you to a home that you were unfamiliar with.

Your thoughts would linger on the injured males that had been bleeding out in Hybern’s castle as you moved between Nesta and Elain so that you weren’t alone for the three hours that passed. Neither paid you any attention which only added to the hurt. It had been a traumatizing situation for the three of you and you were all trying to cope in your own ways. It didn’t stop the fact that you wished someone would pay you some attention for once in your life.

Mor had come back to check on all of you after a few hours and she had been the first one in years to show you some genuine kindness. She led you to a room that you would be able to call your own so that you could find your own way to cope. Once she left, giving you a small smile before she did so, you took a moment to admire where you were. The room was huge considering what you had been used to with the bed being just as big. The balcony was what caught your attention the most and you knew that you would spend the most of your time there.

You found yourself enamored with the house that you learned was called the House of Wind. Mor had been the only one that had visited over the course of two days and you reveled in the attention that you were getting, even if it wasn’t a lot. On the third day, one of the males that had been injured returned to the House to see how the three of you were doing. You were instantly entranced with how handsome that he was, especially when he gave you a gentle smile. His eyes went wide when you smiled brightly at him and he stumbled a step as if he were in shock.

Azriel had been concerned about the three of his High Lady’s sisters so as soon as he was healed, he made his way up to the House. Only the youngest of the sisters could be seen since she had just finished eating. As soon as their eyes met, he was unable to resist the small smile that he had given you. It wasn’t until you gave him a genuine smile that shock overtook him. The warmth of a golden thread spread through him and it was all that he could do to regain his composure.

“How are you doing?” he asked in a gentle voice as he restrained himself from touching you.

“I’m still trying to adjust and learn what all of this means,” you answered honestly as you looked around the dining room. “It’s sort of disorienting.”

“I can only imagine.” You gave him another bright smile at his words when your attention turned back to him. “I have faith in you though.”

A small smile replaced your bright, genuine one and he wanted nothing more than to make it return even though he wasn’t sure how. The only thing that he knew was that you were his mate and he wanted to follow you around like a love-sick puppy. Throughout his eleven years of living in a cell, all that he dreamed about was having someone that loved him unconditionally and to love them in return. Even though he knew that mating bonds didn’t always work out, your smile that seemed to show a genuine kind heart had him hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. When a slight frown formed on his face was when your entire mood visibly shifted and it was all that he could feel in the air around the two of you.

“I never saw you when we went to visit your sisters,” he mused quietly, realizing also that you had never been mentioned.

“I was in my room. I didn’t- ” you sighed, your eyes glossing over in the process. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” He did his best to keep the curiosity and the hint of anger from his tone. “You shouldn’t have been excluded.”

“It was my choice.” You gave him a sad smile while his heart hurt at your tear lined eyes. “I wasn't.. It’s not really worth sharing.”

“I think-”

“What are you doing?”

Nesta’s voice from the doorway had the both of you turning to look at her, her face etched into pure anger. It had you stiffening up in front of him and it had him rising to his full height while his wings tried to flare in his protective state for you. Your older sister did nothing but continue to glare at the both of you before you sighed quietly while hanging your head and shaking it slightly.

“We were just tal-”

“You don’t need to talk to her,” Nesta snapped. “She has us. Stay away from her.”

You glanced back at him with apologetic eyes before walking away from him but he noticed that you went in a completely different direction than your sister did. He almost followed you but decided against it in hopes that it would help you cope a bit better.

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, still in your pajamas, when you entered the dining room with the male from the day before and Mor sitting at the table.

“Good morning,” Mor replied with a small smile. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“I do rise early sometimes,” you chuckled as you took a seat beside her with the male sitting across from you. “But everything.. It’s hard to sleep now.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Mor rubbed your arm for a moment in a comforting manner. “We’re glad that you are out here with us.”

You gave her a small but sad smile, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that none of them knew about you and even though it hurt, you did your best not to show it. Feyre had mentioned to you once that the food here was delicious and now that you had a taste, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to normal human food. The thought had you returning to the day that you had been forced into the cauldron and realized that you didn’t know anyone’s name and most importantly, how they all were doing after injuries.

“You were hurt.” You locked eyes with the hazel ones across from you. “And your friend-”

“We’re alright,” he assured, causing you to slump in relief into your seat. “Cassian’s wings are healing as we speak.”

“I’m so glad.” You gave him a bright smile before gazing at his wings momentarily. “I can’t imagine how much pain that you were in. I feel horrible that I didn’t even think to ask you last night.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you another genuine, small smile that earned a near silent gasp from the female beside her. “You have been through more than any of us can imagine.”

“I don’t even know your names,” you mumbled, choosing to ignore his reassurance since you were trying to avoid the thoughts of your own.

“You’ve met Mor.” He gestured towards the female beside you who simply rolled her eyes. “Cassian, as I said, was the one that was injured as well and Rhysand is our High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Oh.” It was hard to keep your mind from the horrible memories, the thoughts making your heart hurt even more now that you knew their names. “Have you heard from Feyre?”

“She will be alright and will be back as soon as she can,” Mor answered confidently.

Your sister had obviously thrived since she had become High Fae and you couldn’t help but wonder if you or your other sisters would be able to do it as well even though you didn’t have much of a choice. A part of you wanted to adjust but at the same time, you were terrified of the life that you had been forced into. You were at least trying to be friendly even though Elain still refused to speak and Nesta was being her usual angry self.

You weren’t sure how to feel with everything that was going on around you but your mind began to drift back to your human life. Your favorite holiday would be arriving in a few months and you hoped that it would be something that would be accepted for the first time. Remembering that you didn’t know the male’s name, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you stingy with your name?”

“No,” he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated, finding that you liked how it rolled so simply off of your tongue.

He seemed to like it as well due to the smile tugging at his lips but you chose to ignore it, opting to eat what you could. You could feel his gaze on you and noticed it for yourself when you glanced from your peripheral as Mor began to tell you what Velaris had to offer.

“It sounds beautiful,” you sighed in awe.

“I could take you.” Your eyes met Azriel’s, noting that his expression was neutral even though you felt like he deeply wanted you to agree. “The city is meant to be seen at night.”

“I would expect nothing less from The City of Starlight,” you laughed, noting an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

With a nod in a silent goodbye, you went to find your sisters who were where you thought they would be. Elain was still staring out of the window with a blank stare and Nesta was in a chair in the room with her reading a book. Your oldest sister’s blank stare fell on you and since it made you feel unwelcome, you quickly left and opted to spend your day in your room. The feeling of loneliness was nothing new but it hurt even worse with the circumstances that were beginning to feel impossible to sort through.

As the day came to a close, you searched through the new wardrobe in hopes of finding something suitable. It was as if Mor knew of your struggle because she was flitting into the room as the afternoon was coming to a close. Her help was more than welcomed since you didn’t know how to dress up for anything at all. She chose a gorgeous blue dress and fixed your hair into loose curls. It was the prettiest that you had ever felt. Azriel’s face softened when you entered the dining room where he was waiting and he guided you to the balcony.

“The House is warded against winnowing so we will have to fly,” he started gently, watching you with nearly invisible caution. “There is always the option of the ten thousand steps to the city but that would ruin your beautiful dress.”

“I’ve never flown before.” It was hard to speak and keep the shock from the simple word from your tone before eyeing his wings. “It sounds scary.”

“I promise not to drop you,” he chuckled, the noise almost inaudible.

You nodded your head and nearly gasped when he picked you up gently, the feeling contradicting his size and obvious muscles. The flight down wasn’t as scary as you expected and you knew that Azriel was doing his best to keep you comfortable. He landed you both down next to what he called the Sidra and you couldn’t help but admire the sight. Azriel followed suit when you leaned against the railing and it was then that you noticed the blue stone on the top of his hand. Your attention turned to the scars and your heart immediately ached for him.

“They are siphons,” he explained to your silent question but stiffened when you placed your hand over his and ran a thumb over his scars.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, admiring how the kind male beside you had turned out that way despite the obvious trauma that he went through before giving him a soft smile. “Oh, your siphons are too.”

He smiled brightly, the sight taking your breath away in the process. You couldn’t help but return it before he placed a hand on your lower back and guided you further into the city. Amazement of the sights sent your heart fluttering and then it warmed when Azriel let you slip your hand into his.

Azriel couldn’t keep his disbelief hidden from himself when it was obvious to see that you deeply enjoyed his company. It seemed that you always found a way to gravitate towards him and a piece of him wondered if it was the unknown mating bond or if you were truly that attention starved. He always silently observed every interaction possible between you and your sisters but each one was short lived. It hurt his own heart for you since he knew what it was like to be shunned by your own family.

He had a day planned in the city with you when Rhys called him away to help Cassian retrieve Feyre. Even though you knew nothing, you were genuinely understanding and it only made him love you more for it. His heart only hurt worse when they returned with Feyre and you were barely acknowledged. He bristled when you glanced at his High Lord with a hint of fear radiating off of you. When tears lined your eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into an empty hallway to pull you into his arms.

You melted in his embrace and silently cried for less than a handful of minutes before pulling away and wiping your eyes. If he hadn’t needed to watch Lucien, he would have taken you right then and there out to the city in hopes of lightening your mood and bringing the smile back to your face that he desperately wanted to see.

“My favorite human holiday is coming up next week,” you muttered before leaning against the wall behind you. “I wonder if they’ll celebrate it with me.”

“I would be more than happy to help with anything that you need,” he replied quietly before his heart clenched at the sight of your small smile.

The day before the holiday, he had followed you into the city to get all of the decorations that you needed. Between the shopping that he usually didn’t enjoy doing and helping you set everything up the next morning, he was happier than he had been in a long time. Any amount of time that he got with you was highly cherished and it always seemed that you felt the same. His heart dropped at your frown when his brothers and Feyre returned. The slight scent of your fear again had him bristling but forced himself to keep his face unreadable as he watched.

“I thought that we could actually celebrate now,” you said hopefully to the High Lady. “Maybe make things feel a little more like home in a way.”

“We didn’t want to do your holiday back then and we really don’t now.”

Nesta’s words when she entered the dining room had him glaring at her when tears filled your eyes. He nearly growled in his protective nature at the sight of your oldest sister who wasn’t phased by the sight that always had his stomach turning. She left with a scoff and roll of her eyes before disappearing again. It wasn’t until Feyre gave you a half hearted apologetic smile and disappeared after Nesta did you finally run to your room.

A glare at his High Lord who knew about the bond only had him seeing red when Rhysand simply shrugged and followed after his own mate.

Your time with Azriel became less and less the closer that the war came. Despite taking Cassian up on his offer to train, you weren’t anywhere near close to trying to go up against the simplest of opponents. Azriel always appeared proud that you had agreed to learn to defend yourself if need be. There was always an emotion in his eyes that you could never place when your eyes met but what you did know was that you were falling in love with him.

Even though you were worried about Elain when she was kidnapped, you couldn’t stop the hurt that hit you when you saw her in his arms. Your relief for your sister’s safety quickly changed into horror when you saw the injuries that he had received. You followed behind him quietly and stayed out of the way while he was tended to by Thesan. He would lock eyes with you every so often and give you a reassuring smile that had a tug in your heart pulling towards him.

Azriel stayed with you in your tent that night but even him holding you close against him did nothing to help you sleep. Your worry and fear ate at you about the war that would be taking place kept your heart and mind racing. Standing at the edge of the battlefield with Feyre’s new family and your sisters did nothing but refuel your terror. Hurt coursed through you to see the male that you had fallen in love with hand his dagger to Elain. You knew that you wouldn’t be anywhere near the fight as instructed.

“We will get through this,” Azriel whispered in a low voice that only you could hear when he returned to your side.

You gave a short hum in agreement but stepped away from him as heartbreak continued to swirl within you. With the shortest glance at the shadowsinger, you saw confusion and something akin to hurt on his face before he faced the battle beginning ahead of them. All that you could do was watch with tears streaming down your face and your own sobs escaping you when Feyre's pained screaming met you when it was all over.

You already knew what had happened and since you were all alone, you let yourself fall apart in the place that you had been left at and let yourself grieve for your sister. There was absolutely nothing that you could do to help anyone or anything but you had become used to it at this point in your life. Since there weren’t any other options for you, you disappeared into your tent, continuing to cry. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by before you heard the tent flaps move to find Feyre looking at you with tear-filled eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered as she began to cry and the pain in her eyes and on her face had your heart dropping. “Father- He-”

You already knew what she meant since you had seen his ships and you simply turned your back to her. A soft, pained sigh left your sister before she reluctantly left and your heart hurt even more at the fact that you didn’t know anything at all. You had truly been forgotten by everyone. All that you wanted was to be alone to try to sort through your emotions. It was already hard enough with the struggle that you were having with adjusting to your new life as High Fae but this added pain was too much.

Once you were finally able to return home, you secluded yourself into a room in the townhouse while everyone else gathered around. You wanted nothing to do with any of them but you were stuck in the court that you didn’t want to be in. Time passed in a blur and you even refused to be around Azriel despite his pained features when you told him to go away. The comfort that you had once felt around him had dissipated when you noticed his visible worry for Elain. You couldn’t blame him because your sister had always been the most beautiful and you would choose her over you any day.

“You’re doing what now?” you asked one afternoon when Feyre cornered you when you were finished eating, silent as you always were.

“Starfall is tomorrow and we need to get you a dress,” Feyre answered, speaking as if it was obvious.

“What is ‘Starfall?’”

“A Fae tradi-”

“So you’ll celebrate the things that the Fae do but you never bothered when I planned anything?” you snapped hatefully.

Feyre simply frowned before sighing and leaving your room. You sat brooding on your balcony, enjoying the light breeze blowing past you, wondering how things had turned out how it had. Being in Fae territory became even more unbearable by the day and you were beginning to not care if humans didn’t like your kind, half heartedly planning a return to the human lands. Before you could get into your thoughts much further, someone landed on the balcony beside you. Not just anyone, but the one in the group that truly scared you.

“I hear you’re opposed to Fae holidays,” Rhys began nonchalantly. “Why-”

“I’m not participating in your stupid traditions,” you snapped, taking steps back when he took enough steps forward and had you cornered with nowhere to go.

“And why, Y/N, do you refuse?”

“Because I don’t want to!” you yelled despite the fear that you knew he could sense.

“This is what you’re going to do.” He placed a hand on the railing on each side of you, hovering too close for comfort with a stern but angry expression. “You will be there tomorrow whether you like it or not. I will not have you ruining this night for Feyre. You will not like the repercussions if you upset her on her favorite holiday.”

With that, he left you there while you shook from the fear that you had just been left in.

Azriel had never imagined how much it would hurt to be pushed away by his own mate. You wouldn’t talk to him or even make eye contact. It was very obvious to everyone that you were miserable and he noted that depression had fully taken over you even and you always failed to conceal it when you tried. Every attempt that he made was always quickly shut down or simply ignored.

The night of Starfall, he barely saw you. You stood by yourself, refusing to speak to anyone that tried to engage in conversation with you by a half hearted smile. When he noticed that you disappeared, he followed your scent down the hall towards your room where he knew that you would be. His knock went unanswered but he let himself in anyway since the door wasn’t locked. He noted that your room was half decorated with the human holiday that you loved while you stood against the balcony in a simple dress that replaced your previous one.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, bracing himself to be told to leave.

“No.” Your answer was short and clipped but you didn’t bother to look at him as you continued to watch the sight of Starfall. “No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Why am I being forced to participate in something that I don’t want to be a part of?” you asked and he heard the anger beginning to fill your tone. “They were never a part of the one simple holiday that I tried to get them to enjoy. All that I wanted was to spread some joy in the crappy situation that we were in and even now, they still refuse to acknowledge it.”

“You didn’t have to join if you didn’t want to,” he assured gently, placing a hand over yours.

“Yes, I did,” you scoffed, causing him to raise an eyebrow in silent question. “Your oh so wonderful High Lord insisted. As a matter of fact, he threatened repercussions if I messed up wonderful Feyre’s favorite Fae tradition. I was forced to become a High Fae and now I’m being forced into traditions that I now want no part of.”

“Rhys did what?” he asked, his voice low with anger that was directed towards his brother.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.” You went silent for only a moment before anger began to roll off of you. “You know what? It does matter. I will not allow them to walk all over me anymore.”

Azriel followed you in a hurry, hoping to do damage control when it was needed. All eyes fell on you when you stormed directly into the party. As if sensing your anger, Feyre’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. When you got too close, Rhysand gave him a stern glare in silent warning so he caught you around the waist to keep you in one spot.

“You are a shitty sister!” you snapped loudly, turning all eyes on you.

“What-”

“Oh, no. You don’t get to talk or ask questions.” He kept you in place despite your struggling as Elain moved beside the High Lady. “Both you have done nothing but shove me to the very back of your minds! Left me on the back burner! You didn’t even bother telling me that our father was dead until everyone was settled comfortably back in the camp!”

“We’re really sorry, Y/N-”

“You’re just as bad!” His arm tightened around you, pulling your back to his front when you began shaking in anger. “All that all of you have done was forget about me! None of your little ‘family’ even knew I existed! And even though you always disregarded my holiday that was always meant to lighten our troubles, your precious High Lord threatened me to participate in your stupid Fae traditions!”

Azriel’s eyes went wide with all of the information that you had just unleashed for everyone to hear. Even though everyone was staring at the confrontation with gaping mouths, he kept his attention on Rhysand who was trying to keep his power in check from his anger due to his own mate’s tears.

“Get your mate out of my city, Azriel,” Rhys ordered, the secret now revealed causing you to stiffen.

“What the hell is he talking about?” you asked, jerking out of his grip and shoving him harshly in the chest.

“I wanted to tell you but with everythi-”

“Oh no,” you chuckled darkly, tears now flowing freely down your face. “Yet another Fae tradition that I just have to deal with.”

“You don’t have to,” Azriel tried, desperation filling him just as much as his anger at his High Lord. “You-”

“Get away from me,” you snapped, backing away from him towards the door to the steps. “I’ll take care of myself just like I always have.”

With that, you darted for the door while he was left standing there in shock before the heartache took over him.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen

@hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademejoin

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

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trappolia · 5 months

Text

KISS ME ONCE AGAIN ── silver x gn!reader, 1.6k

silver has always taken his time with you.

he has never been able to tell you why. lilia says that it is just the way he is, ever since he was a boy. he plays by the rules. he goes by a routine that is, as much as possible, not too affected by his strange sleeping habits.

it is why he goes through the meticulous steps of courting you, offering you flowers and gifting you with thoughtful trinkets and even writing letters for your family while your worlds remain separate. it is why it had to be you to take the first step and kiss him one night during a star-gazing date because gods damn it all, you’re sick of waiting.

( silver laughed and laughed that night as you apologised for your callous actions; because you were so cute, because he was so in love, because it all felt like a dream come true when he allowed himself to ignore tradition to cup your cheeks and pull you into another kiss. )

silver discovers very early on that even when he takes his time, it's all still overwhelming. like a dream come true, he used to tell lilia in bouts of deliriousness when he's still caught between dream and reality and his mind is too muddled with sleep to care about embarrassing himself in front of the fae who had raised him.

like a dream come true.

but what is his dream, exactly?

a cottage deep in the forest of briar valley, with ivy growing up the walls and over the red-tiled roof. soft, packed dirt with growing flowers of all kinds, spring blossoms of pink, yellow, blue, red, protected by a low wall. there are no horrors with dripping ink and dragging claws, no glowing emerald eyes or scaled wings. just grass and flowers and sky and nothing.

no. not nothing. because there's you.

"i just cleaned, so remember to take off your boots by the door!" silver hears you call out from inside the cottage. his chest quakes as he lets out a ragged breath, his bag dropping as he rids himself of the extra weight.

the floor below his dirty boots is clean slate compared to the cluttered kitchen to his left and the living area to his right. silver sees the same threadbare couch by the stone fireplace, cluttered with throw pillows and blankets and an unfinished knitting project. the couch is old. used. loved. there are some closed doors beyond the stairs, but silver doesn't have to check to know what lies behind them. his old childhood bedroom where lilia used to tuck him in. a bathroom that has been flooded one or more than a few times when he got too carried away with playtime. the small study where he used to have his lessons on reading and writing.

there's something about the sight of his childhood home that sets silver off, as if he’s caught in crosswinds, but he fumbles his way inside anyway, toeing his shoes off out of ingrained politeness. his footfalls feel heavy and light all at once against the wooden floors as he walks — almost as if by habit — to the kitchen where he had heard your voice come from.

"there you are," you beam at him, putting a kettle of water on top of the same stove that silver had watched his father cook his meals so many times. your brows furrow when you notice the strange expression on his face; the emotions whirling in his aurora irises like a hurricane and the trembling of his bottom lip.

you frown, wiping your hands on a cloth rag. "silver? what's wrong?"

silver lets out a ragged breath, his hand shaking as it comes up to cradle your own as you cup his face in your palm. what is wrong? this is all he's ever wanted, isn't it? a life with you in the woods he had grown up in, free of worries and dangers and hurt and anger. he's built a home with no fear, no yelling, no uncertainties. just like the life lilia always wanted to give him.

it's a dream come true.

"you're a dream," silver whispers when he realises, his hands coming up to cradle your face in turn. he's shaking, he knows that even with his mind whirling, but he just can't help it— he has to touch you, make sure this isn't— this isn't a nightmare—

no. no, no, no. malleus wouldn't do that. this is his dream. this is what his heart has always yearned for.

"my dream."

"well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up in that soft smile that silver oh so adores to kiss. "what's the occasion?"

"i—" silver opens his mouth, but no words come out. what can he say? what can he do, knowing that this is all he's ever wanted, but this is a dream. this is a dream and you're not real but gods, does silver want you to be.

a beat passes, and your smile turns sad.

"you know, don't you?"

silver feels his heart ache. he wants to tell you no. no, please keep this veil over my eyes. pretend i don’t know this isn’t real. please. please.

you reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with such tenderness that silver feels like crying. “you’ve always been so smart, silver.”

“i’m sorry,” he allows himself to say, because this is the least he owes you— this perfect imitation of you that his mind, malleus’s magic, has managed to conjure, because in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve managed to ingrain yourself into every fibre of his being so that even under this spell, all silver can dream about is you, you, you.

silver doesn't want to wake up. he doesn't, he really doesn't. there's something in him that pulls at his heartstrings, tugging at every vein and nerve as if begging him to stay, please stay. there must be a reason why you're always falling asleep, why this had to happen. just stay. this is a dream come true, why would you want to wake up?

“you’re still there,” silver says in a voice so small, it feels like he’s a little boy again, crying and clinging onto lilia like the fever that sticks to his skin and reminds him of his mortality.

“you’re still there, and i’m here.”

his childhood home is small, but within the cottage and with your hands cradling his face, the thick walls feels unnaturally closer, like something is breathing on the back of his neck. he’s reminded of you, somewhere in night raven college, trapped within your own dream. do you think of him, he wonders? has he become your new dream, just as you have become his?

will he ever see you again?

silver can't bear the thought of you somehow waking up from your dream — a matter of when rather than if, because silver knows that you've always had a knack for getting out of impossible situations like this — and realising that he had left you alone to stay in this eternal sleep, with this dream– this illusion of what could have been.

“i have to go,” silver whispers, and his heart breaks because this might be a dream, but it’s still you. how can he tell you he’s going to leave? he can’t do that. he can’t break your heart like that, he can’t—

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry— i'm so, so sorry.”

he expects you to stop him. what do the stories say about dreams where you’re supposed to be kept unaware, blissfully oblivious to the fact that this utopia is not your reality? silver expects this dream version of you to pull some sort of trick to lure him back into your trap—

but instead you just smile softly, reaching out to stroke his face, "how lucky i am to have someone like you love me."

silver hears something crack, resonating in his soul. is it the chains of malleus’s magic breaking its hold on him, or the last pieces of his heart shattering at last? he doesn’t know.

maybe it’s both.

but whatever it is, silver knows he doesn’t have much time. his hands cup your cheeks, pulling you close to him with the desperation of a dying man.

he feels you gasp against his mouth, lips parting and allowing his tongue to slip inside. he maps the cavern of your mouth as if immortalising it in his mind, like he’ll never see you again after this— because that is very well a possibility, no matter how he tries to ignore it.

silver kisses you like it’s his last day in this godforsaken world, because it might as well be, and great seven, he should have done this every time he kissed you. he should have kissed you first. he should have kissed you every moment he could instead of taking his time because now he can hear the sand running in the hourglass, and he’s blind to how much time he has left, and he just wants to see you in the flesh again, please, please, please—

the two of you part an eternity later, but it still feels much too soon. there’s so much love in him, and too little time, and silver feels like drowning.

"wait for me," silver pleads. he'll make this dream come true, he swears. he’ll give you all the love he has in this wretched body of his, and then some. he’ll never sleep again even, if only to make this dream come true.

"i will," you whisper breathlessly—

—and with a bittersweet smile and a final, fleeting kiss to his lips, you let him go.

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daycourtofficial · 6 months

Text

Starfall in Autumn

Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader

Summary: based on the prompt for @starfallweek “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Warnings: pregnancy mentioned as a plot device to keep us in Autumn 🫡, Eris being down bad

Upon your engagement, you told Eris that you wanted to incorporate Night Court traditions into your life here in Autumn. One such tradition included attending your home court’s annual Starfall Ball.

Your favorite night of the year, bringing Eris along to spend the evening with your family. The first few years were tense, and while your family is far from accepting him with loving arms, they do have common ground they can discuss and safe topics for all parties to avoid any fights or arguments.

Usually Eris would spend most of the evening with you or Lucien, but a few years ago he and Nesta began an annual traditional chess match. The two were quite evenly matched, the both of them ignoring everyone in concentration.

This year, however, you were stuck in Autumn, unable to get dressed up. The one night of the year you donned Night Court attire, instead staying in comfortable slippers and a simple black dress.

You were close to your due date, the next heir of Autumn in your womb, and they were much too large for you to winnow comfortably anymore. An unfortunate fact you discovered two months ago on a trip with Lucien, your brother in law suffering the consequences of your motion sickness.

You and Eris made the decision then on no more winnowing, and the Night Court was simply too far away to travel by carriage or horse this far along in your pregnancy.

So the two of you stayed behind, the crisp air, faint smell of apples, and the red and orange leaves doing nothing to soothe the homesickness you felt deep in the pits of your stomach.

Autumn didn’t celebrate Starfall - you couldn’t see any of the beautiful colors that fill the night sky here, not a trace of starlight anywhere.

Eris held your hands as you sat on a blanket, the crunching of leaves as your body hits the earth. You watch the sky as you feel your mate’s warmth next to you.

“Er, what are we doing out here?”

“Patience is a virtue, my love,” he replies, kissing your hand.

“Since when have you been so concerned with being virtuous?”

He leans up, a hand lying across his knee. He looks so relaxed when you knew he had been anything but. Eris was incredibly experienced in caring for babes, having helped raise all of his brothers.

His least favorite part was always the labor. He’d pace outside of his mother’s chambers, his father nowhere to be seen until after the ‘inconvenient part’, as Beron described it. His thoughts would lead him to the worst conclusion, preparing himself to lose his mother, the only softness he’s ever experienced in the world.

And now he was crippled with those same anxieties about you. He swallows those fears down, saving them for later. Now was about you.

“I’m preparing to be a father, dear, I have to put on a front at least.”

He pulls out a bottle of apple cider from the basket next to you two, along with two glasses. He gestures the bottle to you, and you nod. He pours your glass and hands it to you before pouring himself a glass.

You hum as the cool liquid slides down your throat, leaning into Eris as he wraps an arm around you.

You breathe in the cool autumn air, a faint smell of bonfires in the distance. You watch the stars as they twinkle, reminding you of your childhood, of Starfalls past with Rhysand.

Eris senses your nostalgia through the bond, and tightens his grip on you. You notice a few other fae in the clearing, bringing their own blankets, snacks, and children.

“I thought the Autumn Court didn’t celebrate Starfall?” You ask, eyes finding Eris’s amber ones in the dark.

He exhales, the movement of his chest rubbing against you, “we do now.”

Your gaze on Eris was interrupted by a large boom on the other side of the clearing. You look for the source, assuming you’re under some form of attack, until the sky lights up in beautiful shades of red, shining so brightly against the night sky. The red scatters across the sky, fizzling out, making way for the next boom, this one followed by a green light display.

“What is this?” You ask, unable to look away, never seeing anything like it before.

“Well, during the war we were experimenting with new weapons, and one of our scientists invented this powder. We’ve only been able to use it for these big, beautiful displays.”

“Truthfully, they’ve been sitting in storage for years. Beautiful, but not very useful for the war. When we decided on staying here for the holiday, I was trying to find ways to make the day memorable for you.”

You pull your eyes away from the display in the sky, Eris’s pale face lit up in shades of green and yellow light. “Er, you big softie,” you choke out, tears threatening to spill out at the gesture.

It wasn’t the Starfalls of your youth, running around with Rhysand or Cassian, the Illyrians flying you into the stardust until you were covered in it.

It wasn’t your childhood, it was new. And perhaps this would be your children’s childhood - starfalls spent under the manufactured displays, so different from the real thing, but beautiful in such a unique way.

He inhales through his nose, trying not to take the bait, but he knew you were right. He was still rigid and untrusting, but you had smoothed out so many of his rough edges over the years.

“I am what you have made me, my love.”

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader

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b00kdiary · 6 months

Note

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

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

Fire Night | Eris Vanserra

Eris X Plus size Reader

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

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

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

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

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

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

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

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

For Fire Night had come at long last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For her.

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

To touch and taste and pleasure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I knew it would take me straight to her.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for a while, we had done exactly that.

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

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

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

"Not lost are you, darling?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tall, foreboding, broad – Glorious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maiden.

Mine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then I am yours too, My Lady."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eris, Eris – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eris, what – “

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

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

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

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

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prythianpages · 3 months

Text

Shine Bright, Shine Far | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: Cassian meets you for the first time. The exact person he needed, not knowing that you are also the exact person he's been dreaming of.

warnings: none? this is fluff, I guess?

word count: 2,012

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone fic!

As the Night Court's general, Cassian had faced countless battles, proving himself a formidable Illyrian warrior. He held the titles of Carynthian and Lord of Bloodshed. Winning was in his nature, a skill he had mastered. Or so he thought.

Because in matters of the heart, defeat was all he had come to know.

He tried not to let it bother him. Winter Solstice, his favorite holiday, was fast approaching. He looked forward to decorating the River House with Feyre, even though Azriel would begrudgingly fix it. Rhysand never cared much for such trivial things. It had become a tradition since the first year Feyre joined them, much like the annual snowball fight, another event he eagerly anticipated—after drinking the night away, of course.

Winter Solstice had always been a time of joy and happiness. Cassian loved his family and friends. But things are different now. Not a bad different, just different. Rhysand had his little family with Feyre and Nyx. Azriel and Gwyn were slowly but surely becoming a thing. Mor had taken to spending more time with Emerie. Amren remained obsessed with her Summer Prince. Elain and Lucien now lived in the Day Court, but they had come to the Night Court to celebrate among family. And Nesta? Last he heard, she was in Autumn.

It was a bittersweet feeling. He was happy to be among his loved ones, yet there was no denying the shadow that had settled over his usually fiery spirit. A sense of loneliness crept in as he watched his closest friends and family find love.

He tried his best to mask his feelings, believing he had succeeded. But of course Feyre had seen through it. Cassian had been making his way into the kitchen of the River house for a night snack when he ran into Feyre, Mor and Emerie.

“Get dressed! We’re going to Rita’s!” Mor had exclaimed and Feyre was quick to encourage him. The look in their eyes made it clear that they wouldn't take no for an answer. It was either go willingly or be dragged there by force. Cassian chose the former.

That’s how Cassian found himself at Rita’s with Mor and Emerie surrounded by pulsating music and vibrant lights. Mor had ordered them drinks and after an hour of drinking, an attempt at an awkward conversation over Cassian's love life was made. However, Cassian was able to defer it, quickly changing the topic into something lighter.

The drinks kept coming and another hour later, Mor and Emerie were twirling away on the dance floor, leaving Cassian alone in the private booth. Just as he intended. He wondered whether he should order another drink.

As he glanced toward the bar, his eyes were drawn to a pretty female in shimmering pink. She immediately caught his attention as there was a certain glow about her, but he noticed her gaze was fixated on a silver-haired male across from her.

With a sigh, Cassian worked to chug the last of his drink and decided it was time to leave.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗

You let out a deep sigh as the thoughts you had tried to dance away finally caught up with you. The silver stars dangling from above seemed to mock you, twinkling along to the blaring music. It had been a week since your magic had failed you during the ritual, and although the stars had shown you they had not forsaken you, each day since then had brought a new struggle.

Your magic was waning and it worried you.

It’s why you found yourself at Rita’s. You had easily made friends with a group of blue-skinned fae, but you couldn’t keep up with them on the dance floor in your platform pink heels. Your body ached for a break, so you went to the bar and decided to people-watch—a favorite pastime of yours.

You gaze wistfully at your drink, swirling the purple liquid with a straw in one hand while propping up your chin with the other. Maybe it's time to call it a night and go wallow in your self-pity in the comfort of your home…

Shine bright, shine far, don't be shy, be a star, your mother’s voice echoes through your mind.

It was from a song she had made up for you. She sang it to you often as a babe, and when you were older, she reserved the song for days when you were feeling a little down. A reminder that you were meant to shine, no matter how difficult the journey.

If she were alive, she’d definitely be singing the song to you at this moment. But now, it’s her memory that sings it for you, always resurfacing when you need it the most.

She'll sparkle and glitter, and shimmer to the end...

And like always, mother is right. You would overcome this mountain. Climb it and reach the top and shine bright like the three stars over Ramiel do.

As you sit there, you feel a familiar, subtle tug within. Your magic, though weakened, responds to the environment around you. It picks up on the emotions, feeding off the joy and excitement in the air. Following that faint pull, your curious eyes find a fae male with silver hair that gleams like moonlight. His cat-like eyes are fixed on another male, who sits far from him and surrounded by his friends.

There's a look in those feline eyes that you know well. He tears his gaze away from the dark-haired male, whose neck glimmers with green scales. When you notice the dark-haired male stealing glances back at the silver-haired fae, your magic stirs like a whisper in the wind, your heart fluttering in response.

Shifting in your seat with a sudden eagerness, you lift your head and signal at one of the bartenders. She's a pretty fae with delicate wings aglow behind her, a familiar face you've often seen but never learned her name. As she approaches, you lean in and quietly share your plan. Her brow furrows skeptically at first, and when she briefly scans the room, you fear rejection.

Yet, when her eyes meet yours again, they widen with understanding and gives a nod.

Your heart continues to flutter, pink stardust dancing at your fingertips in anticipation. You watch as she delivers a drink to each of the males, a replacement for their previous ones. You had instructed her to make them believe the other had sent it. As the two males exchange glances, your magic begins to hum through your veins, pulsing louder with each passing moment. The air around you crackles with an electric charge, ready to burst forth.

When the two fae finally bridge the distance between them, blushing and smiling, your magic surges through you like lightning, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. A small, satisfied smile curves your lips.

Even with your magic faltering, you still had your touch.

Retrieving your heart-shaped compact mirror from your purse, you check your makeup and apply a fresh coat of lip gloss, mesmerized as your heart-shaped pupils pulse back at you. Still buzzing with the energy of your magic, you feel another tug. This time, it pulls you toward the dance floor.

Following the tug once more, you make your way through the crowded pleasure hall, purple drink still in hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of two fae dancing. There’s an awkward distance between them, as if hesitant to take that one step closer, and you wonder if that had been the source of the tug.

The pink stardust dancing around your fingertips flutters through the dance floor and toward them. You wince when it gives a harsh push, sending the smaller fae crashing into her partner’s chest. Relief soothes your worry when it heeds the same results you had been hoping for. The taller fae catches her in his arms and the two share a look before continuing in their dance. This time, much closer and with gazes full of answered hope.

Oh, how you love, love...

The thrill of your magic begins to wane, the once vibrant energy now fading into an indistinct hum. You decide that’s enough fun for the night. Yes, you still had that touch but you worried exhausting it as your magic was harder to control now. Just as you neared the exit, karma came for you as someone crashed into you much like your magic had done to that fae on the dance floor and sent you sprawling into something hard.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗

No, not something.

Someone.

The sudden force sent your drink splashing, the cup falling to the floor with a resonant thud. Stars above, you cursed, hands flying to your mouth as you realized your drink had splattered across a pristine white shirt. Flustered, you avoid eye contact and immediately began apologizing, offering to fix it.

“It’s okay…Are you okay?”

The voice–a male’s– was surprisingly calm and deep. Very deep.

Acting on instinct, you’re murmuring the words to a small cleaning spell before you could stop yourself. Pink magic slips from your fingertips but instead of vanishing, the stain deepens, the purple remnants of your drink taking on a darker hue against the canvas of white. Your eyes widen at the aftermath of your faulty magic.

“No,” you squeak out, finally answering your victim’s question.

“I’ll send you a new shirt. Two, if you wish...” Your voice trails off nervously as you finally look up at your victim, realizing how tall he is. So tall his form towers over you easily, large membranous wings casting shadows over you. Your throat tightens and one heel lifts, ready to take a small step back

“Or three! One can never have too many white shirts as you clearly have seen…”

As your gaze travels upwards, you freeze, completely star-struck by the sight of the most handsome male you’d ever seen. Your heel meets the ground, body rooted to your spot.

Tall, strong, and muscular, he stands bathed in the vibrant, colorful lights of Rita’s. An ethereal glow dances along his dark hair and the scar that runs through one of his brows. Despite his rugged features, there is something strangely soft about him that draws you in.

And he seems oddly familiar, like you’ve seen him before, though you can’t place why.

“But how will you find me?” He asks, more amused than upset.

You should be relieved but you’re not even sure you’re breathing when his eyes meet yours. In the dim light, you can discern the hazel color of his eyes, so warm and inviting, and it takes you a moment to register that he had spoken to you.

“What?” You blink at him, still wide-eyed.

His lips quirk upwards. “How will you send me the shirts?”

“Well, the same way I just found you now,” you reply, your voice now steady despite your racing heart. “Magic.”

“Magic,” he muses, a glint beaming in his eyes.

“Mmm, I’ll throw in a free love reading too! As an extra apology…” you say, reaching for your small purse and pulling out one of your business cards. You practically shove it into his hands, forcing a bright smile to your face though it wavers nervously as he looks at it. “Oh, and don’t worry! A love reading requires minimum magic, no mishaps there. So don’t be shy!”

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗

“But this is how to find you…how will you find me?” Cassian can’t help the question, picking up on a fault in your words.

But as he looks up from your business card, you’re already walking away.

He lets out an amused exhale, a tentative smile playing on his lips, the stain on his shirt long forgotten. He watches as you slip out of Rita’s like a shooting star. Swift and dazzling before vanishing into the night, leaving a sense of wonder in its wake.

A very bright and very pink shooting star.

And as he glances back down at the card in his hands, he finally takes a good look, the white stars on the card blinking back up at him, as if alive with celestial energy.

Stardust Soulmates. Find your path among the stars. He turns the card around, finding your information on the other side, your name glowing softly at him. Y/n D’Amore. Love witch.

“Love witch,” Cassian murmurs to himself, thumb brushing across the shimmering letters.

And in that moment, he realizes you are more than just a chance encounter. You are exactly who he needed. A gentle spark ignites from deep within...

The stars had, in fact, listened to him that night...

And perhaps this was a sign that his dreams were on the brink of coming true.

a/n: The song Love Witch's mother sings to her is actually the song from the Life Size movie, Be A Star. which might come back in the future. I made a poll for this part and it was a close call as to how Cas and you would meet. This approach was more of a flustered/shy/completely embarrassed one but worry not, the next time Cassian sees you, it will be at your shop and you'll be more self-assured and witty. I'm debating on whether Cas should drag Az with him too or go alone. Might make a poll of that too lol.

The second option was you failing in your match making skills and Cassian, who was seated next to you at the bar, calling you out on it. Either way, you were left flustered and giving him your business card.

[series masterlist]

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisuke , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon

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

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x witch reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian fanfiction #cassian acotar #acotar imagine #cassian fluff #cassian #dream!cas

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azrielbrainrot · 8 months

Text

Fire on Fire

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Being female in the Autumn Court was hard enough before you got engaged against your will. You try to avoid your fate at any cost.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3966

Notes: Writing Eris is hard, I hope this isn't too bad. Also meant for this to be so much shorter but oh well. Feedback is always appreciated! (unless you're mean about it)

Fire on Fire Masterlist

You watch elegant gowns in all shades of green and orange against tasteful brown and scarlet three piece suits flowing to the music. Your own floor length gown is a muted burnt orange that complimented your figure enough not to be considered provocative. The dress is undeniably beautiful but you would have liked it more had you been allowed to choose it for yourself, it was only upon arriving that you realized the color was meant to match your fiancé's. Orange and burgundy, symbolizing the fire in your hearts, burning for each other. Such a shame you didn't choose him either.

Lively music and laughter can be heard all around the extravagantly decorated ballroom. A proper celebration fit for… you can't even remember what the purpose of this ceremony was. Just another in a long list of mindless parties you aren't allowed to fully indulge in, celebrating people you don't like or traditions you'd rather never participate in.

In any other situation you might have loved to take in the beautiful decorations around the room and lose yourself in the music, dancing and laughing to your heart's desire. But, as you stare at the same intricately decorated chandelier, with magical flames swaying to the beat, you can't take your mind off the people around you.

Your engagement ring clinks against your wine glass slightly, both useless props. You were only allowed a couple modest sips of the wine before putting it aside, as no female should indulge in such a thing, let alone an unmarried one. And the ring seemed more like a mockery than anything else. It symbolized your purpose in this life, to be someone's trophy wife just as your parents had raised you. You think a noose around your neck would feel less haunting.

Thankfully, your parents had left you alone shortly after arriving, letting you sit by one of the tables while you watched the celebration from afar. They must have been content with your demure act, the promised beauty standing off by the side while the married and unclaimed fae reveled in the center of the room. You wonder if you approached the table filled with deliciously smelling goods your mother would winnow to you, lest you look fat in your already too tight corset. It's not even worth the effort for a simple bite of food, you'd rather starve until you're alone.

With a soft sigh you let your eyes wander away from the chandeliers, if you stare at them any longer you might blind yourself with the flames. Pretending no one else was here was an impossible feat anyway. As much as your room feels like a prison sometimes, you'd give anything to go back home right now.

Your eyes meet your future husband's and a chill immediately runs through your body. Eris looks as impeccable as ever in his intricately decorated suit, not a line or hair out of place just as it was expected of the Autumn Court Heir. There is no doubt that he is an exceptionally handsome male, you don't even want to imagine how many fae would kill to be in your place. It's just a shame that his personality is less than desirable, and so is his attitude towards you, and his manners when no one is looking, and that he was the final nail on the coffin that is your stupid fate.

You knew an arranged marriage would eventually become your reality ever since you were a child and your father had told you not to bother with romance, he'd pick someone suitable to marry you and all you had to do was be good to him. In his eyes love is not worth it. You wonder if he even believes it exists, he's certainly never felt it, not even for you, his own child. It makes you feel more at ease knowing no one has ever loved him either, as cruel as that might make you.

For a while you didn't pay your future too much mind, you'd have secret crushes, read romance books behind everyone's backs and even had fleeting affairs when you were a teenager, but it came to a point where you couldn't ignore your fate anymore. When you were freshly seventeen, your mother started intensifying her lessons on how to be a good wife and a good mother - this was the biggest irony since she had never been anything but cruel to you - and your time was consumed with preparations for a future you'd rather run from.

Shortly after, your father put you officially on the market for a husband that would compliment the family's powers, and the High Lord himself came forth, interested in having you marry his eldest son. You knew your family's power was coveted in the Autumn court, your fire was only second to the Vanserra line and the current Lady of Autumn, but this still came as a surprise for you and your family as the High Lord never appeared interested in you. There was no point deluding yourself anymore, your fate as a glorified brooding mare was staring you right in the face.

You had briefly thought of escaping, but the chances of succeeding were slim and you had nowhere to go. You knew the other courts didn't operate on such archaic rules, for the most part at least, but you were also aware that none would accept an autumn court noble female. Your High Lord had burned every bridge with the other courts a thousand times over. You didn't blame any of them for being wary of anything that crawled out of this sickening court.

Words cannot describe how much you hate Beron and everything he stands for which is a good thing because you'd be burned alive in public for speaking those words out loud. Still, you know your feelings of hatred could never hold a candle to Eris' distaste for his own father, and this is how your bargain came to be.

Upon hearing that your future husband would be the heir to the Autumn Court, you had only felt fear like never before. Eris had a reputation of cruelty that preceded him, he was a favorite for the throne among the despicable nobles of this court for a reason after all, but following your first meeting, you had seen a side of him that you'd bet not even a handful of people had glimpsed before and had ultimately came to an agreement that benefitted both of you: you'd push back the date for as long possible while playing the role your fathers expected of the both of you and, if you were lucky, you'd be able to avoid the marriage altogether when Beron wasn't High Lord anymore.

Eris wanted to dispose or Beron, burn down the ruins of this old-fashioned, cruel court and have Autumn be reborn from the ashes. You never intend to call him your husband, but you would gladly help him so you could, one day, come to call him your High Lord.

He observes you for a few heartbeats before downing the content of his glass and setting it aside. In the next moment he's walking straight to you, not ever letting his eyes stray or giving you a moment to breathe.

You can't help but think he looks every bit the High Lord in this moment, with his suffocating power untamed and wicked gaze trained on you. Eris walks to you in slow, intentional steps, like a predator would walk to his prey. His three piece suit was clinging to his frame perfectly, showing off his physique with every step. The pushed back hair only made the intensity in his eyes more noticeable and the strands he left out were framing his face perfectly. Eris looked extremely handsome from afar but he's suffocatingly entrancing when he stands in front of you.

You barely exchange pleasantries before he holds a hand out to you. You can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you, observing every interaction in hopes of finding any detail to gossip about. They all know your marriage is arranged but they're under the impression that, as a female, landing the most sought-after bachelor in the court was your endgame. And there are plenty of people who would go to extreme measures to ensure that they or their family member would be the one becoming the next Lady of Autumn. You're not sure if they'd spare you even if you told them you didn't want anything to do with the title.

“Time to put on a show, doll.” Trying not to let your face show the distaste of the petname he chose for you all those years ago, you take his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

The music changes right before you start, the band knows this is one of the highlights of the evening - the heir and his fiancé. People will be talking about this moment for the next weeks, it's not often you and Eris interact in public after all, just enough for him to show his claim on you as your father so eloquently put it.

Eris leads you through the dance effortlessly, your body following instinctively in turn. You've yet to see him be less than amazing at something. You wonder what kind of picture the two of you paint, moving together so gracefully to the music, orange against burgundy, fire on fire.

“How are you enjoying the evening?” You'd rather he was quiet and ignored you in these moments you have to show up together in public like so many husbands and fiancés do. Eris loves to fan the flames and it's just your luck that they're usually yours. He might not have as much as to lose if you snap and let your fire show, but Beron wouldn't let him go unpunished if his fiancé caused a scene.

“Lovely,” you make sure your gaze is both timid and kind, avoiding his gaze as if you were inferior to him. As he spins you around and brings you in closer, you add in a hushed tone, “Haven't been allowed to eat since this morning and my hair is pulled up so tightly I can barely think.”

“You females sure have it rough.” He means it as a sarcastic comment but you've known him long enough to identify the distaste behind his words. Eris doesn't have the liberty to speak his mind so he's learned to do it behind mockery and sarcasm over the centuries. He knows how rough you have it, unfortunately he's seen it first hand.

“Oh I'm sure you have it so much worse,” you say in a tone you hope matches his, “It's not like you don't spend your mornings walking your hounds around the forest and nights only the Mother knows where.”

You see something spark in his eyes, something akin to satisfaction, before he's tightening his grip on your waist and bringing you in closer. He looks around the room first, as if daring anyone to keep staring while he talks to his soon-to-be wife. Of course, no one does.

“Spying on me, little doll?” Your breath hitches and you know he hears it because you can feel his smirk grow. You'll blame the blush spreading through your flesh and chills moving through your body on your performance later, but in this moment you know they're very much real.

Eris has an effect on you. The male is undeniably attractive, you doubt you'd find any fae or human who wouldn't think so, and that wicked tongue of his only makes him more enticing. You like to blame your body's response to him on your lack of experience, but you're not sure it would be possible to not feel at least tempted to indulge in Eris even if you'd already made your way through the entire court.

“I wasn't trying to,” you swallow, fighting to keep your tone steady and not show any more reaction to his proximity. This much was true, you could barely sneak around to find time for yourself, let alone spend it looking for your fiancé. “Maybe you're just easy to find,” you tilt your head slightly, “This doesn't bode well with all your plans.” You swear you can feel a small chuckle coming from him but he's hiding it before you can be sure.

The song rises in tempo and Eris takes this opportunity to spin you around again, effectively putting some space between you. It's hard to keep a pleasant smile on your face while spewing venom filled words at your husband to be, but letting anyone overhear you or find any little crack in your performance would only bring trouble, and this is routine for you after all. You'd never admit it but with his hand in yours the stares are easier to digest, even if your arrangement was involuntary, at least you weren't alone for once in your life.

The song finally comes to an end. You rush to bow to him slightly so you can go back to an emptier corner of the ballroom and escape everyone's prying eyes, but Eris takes your hand before you can. He takes it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before whispering in your ear.

“Meet me at the cabin later.” It must be an important subject for Eris to even bring this up at a place like this. Though you're sure it had simply looked like he left you with some teasing parting words.

The rest of the ceremony is uneventful. You go back to the same place you had spent most of the night in and ignored the whispers around you. Aside from your mother coming by to ask you what Eris told you - to which you promptly lied and feigned bashfulness - you sat in the corner quietly wondering what your fiancé wants to talk to you about.

As soon as you walk into your room you let out a loud sigh. You wish you could just fall into your bed and not emerge until the sun is high in the sky tomorrow. Unfortunately, you still need to let the maids bathe you and get you ready for bed. Your mother insists on having them help you, especially on days like these, as if you could drown in the bath.

It takes what feels like hours to go through the whole routine, getting you out of the too small corseted dress was a feat in itself. If you had been alone you probably would have already burned it off your body in frustration, it's not like you'll be allowed to wear it again either way.

You lie down in bed as soon as the maids leave, keeping an ear out for everyone else in the house. Trying to leave before everyone was asleep was too risky. They had no reason to think you would leave in the middle of the night like this, but you couldn't help being a little paranoid. There's too much to lose.

When you think it's safe, you climb out of bed quietly. You look down at your nightgown and contemplate changing into something warmer. It barely reaches your knees so you'll definitely be cold, but you were already late and it would be easier to just get back into bed like this. You decide to put on some boots and throw a green hood over it.

Taking one more look around, you winnow to your meeting point. No one knows you have this ability, which is how you can sneak out as often as you do. You've kept this secret from everyone but Eris, though you didn't intentionally reveal it to him either.

He'd shown you this place when you first made your bargain years ago. You're not entirely sure what the cabin was used for before but it was probably only meant for storage. Eris must have found it deep into the forest and decided it was a good place to hide, you can only imagine the things he's gotten up to inside these walls.

As soon as you materialize into the cabin you see Eris standing by the fire. He's changed out of his suit but it doesn't look like he was getting ready for bed with the black ensemble he has on. Yours is probably not the only secret meeting he's having tonight.

“You're late.” Incredible how Eris always strives to be the nicest person in the room.

“I had to wait for everyone to think I was asleep so they didn't see me,” you start as you push the hood off your head, “Excuse me if I took a bit longer making sure no one followed me.”

“You're perfectly excused, doll.” The flames in the hearth climb higher, fueled by your anger that only escalates when you see the familiar smirk on his irritatingly beautiful face. “Oh my. How have you managed to hide your powers with such a fiery disposition?”

You ask yourself that same question often. Fortunately, he might be the only person who can make your temper boil so easily. You don't even want to think what would happen if your father found out how powerful you could be.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure, you take a deep breath and walk closer to the fire. The cloak is doing little to ward off the cold of the autumn forest, you hope he at least ends this conversation quickly.

“I was hoping you'd keep the dress on,” he takes on a seductive tone and looks down at your bare legs before locking eyes with you once more, “but this might be even better.” You will never understand why he insists on playing this game with you, you're more than aware that he has no such feelings for you. You also know you probably look ridiculous.

“Well I was hoping you'd get eaten by a wolf on the way here,” you give him a sweet smile, “but we don't always get what we want.”

The disinterested hum he sends your way in lieu of a response is somehow more infuriating than anything he might have come up with. The fact that Eris managed to live over 500 years with this personality might as well be one of the biggest mysteries in Prythian.

“What did you want to tell me anyway?” You just wanted to get this over with and go back to your warm bed so you can finally sleep the day off.

“Our marriage will take place within the year.” The world fell silent at his words. You always knew this day could come, that Eris could only delay it for so long, but hearing the words makes your heart sink.

“What?”

“Beron hasn't talked to me about it yet but he told my mother to start preparations for my wedding.” He runs a hand through his hair, you hadn't noticed how messy it already was. He's as worried about this as you are. “She warned me he'll probably announce it soon. I thought it would be tonight.”

You don't know how to process this. It may have been foolish but you had hoped this would never actually happen since Eris was on your side. You sit on the bench and Eris follows suit. Your masks drop in the small comfort of the secluded cabin, there's no use pretending now.

“What about your other plan?” This was your last chance: if Eris was High Lord he could simply call the engagement off and your father wouldn't be able to argue against it.

“I will need more time.” You close your eyes tightly, wishing you could just disappear. “I'm trying to move things along as fast as I can but I won't be able to finish all the preparations before the end of the year. There's too much at risk.”

“We will be married by then.” It's over.

“It can't be helped.” You'd give anything to see Autumn rid of Beron, if the price has to be your freedom so be it. Still, you can't help feeling defeated, it feels like you're mourning a life you never even had the chance of living.

You don't know if Eris had any hope of finding love like you did but, even if he didn't, you know he didn't want to be chained to someone he didn't choose either. He had witnessed how awful his parent's marriage had been just like you did yours so he must have at least hoped for a companion of his choice or to stay alone.

“I've thought of sending you away,” you look up at him, surprised at his words, “but my father would order me to find you, and I'd have to obey him. Failing Beron's orders brings too big of a punishment for me and my family.” His gaze moves from the fire in front of you to meet yours, “I would hate to ever hurt you, doll, so I need to keep you here.”

If there was one thing you could respect about Eris was his commitment to keeping his family safe. You're not actually sure if any of them are aware of the sacrifices he makes for them - from what you've heard the family dynamic is interesting at best - but it tugs at your heart strings. You used to pray for someone to care for you that much, to protect you like this.

You wonder how things ended up like this. Maybe thinking you could have avoided this future when it was written for you when you were born had been simply a foolish delusion. At least Eris was one of the best options, as much as you hate to admit it. You'd at least not have to worry about him being violent with you or treating you like you were less than an animal.

“Well,” you sit up straighter and stare right into the fire, feigning nonchalance even through your shaky voice and teary eyes, “I guess we'll have to get used to each other.” No use crying over spilt milk. It was better to accept this reality sooner than later. “Being Lady of Autumn might still bring me some perks in the end.”

You might have to give up on your chance at love and to build a life for yourself, but you can at least help Eris change this court for the better. When you turn your head and meet his amber eyes you find an intensity you weren't expecting, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was proud of you.

“Already thinking of ways to rule my court?” The smirk on his face wasn't quite as cutting as usual. “How ambitious of you, doll.”

“Our court,” you clarify, “What's yours is mine, husband.”

He studies your face for a few moments with a glint in his eyes, noticeable even through the reflection of the fire. You're not sure what he's searching for. Any signs you'd back down or try to run away despite his warnings? Whatever it was, it seems he reached a conclusion.

“We'll rid this court of Beron,” he extends his hand towards you, holding his palm up, “and give it a new worthy ruler.” Another bargain. He wants to add to your former agreement, that one would disappear the moment you got married anyway.

“We'll make this a better place to live, a court we can be proud of.” You have nothing else to lose. You take his hand and feel the magic instantly. You're now bound to Eris in an oath you intend to fulfill at the cost of your life. You'd make him High Lord or you'd die trying.

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