#prompt: The Most Powerful High Lord

[officialrhysandweek]

Prompts ✨ Guidelines ✨ AO3 Collection

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Day 1, 09.24: Lord Of Nightmares Masterlist

Day 2, 09.25: The Illyrian Warrior Masterlist

Day 3, 09.26: The Most Powerful High Lord Masterlist

Day 4, 09.27: The Court Of Dreams Masterlist

Day 5, 09.28: Family Man Masterlist

Day 6, 09.29: Past times Masterlist

Day 7, 09.30: Free Day Masterlist

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🎨: davidjbrunson, louisse_ang, and nicolajwilkinson

[adreamof-spring]

Warnings: torture, mass death, murder Rhysand has been made aware of a brewing unrest in the Hewn City. Dissidents give quarter to former soldiers of Hybern, and whisper for their High Lord and Lady's demise. These accusations cannot go unanswered. Rhys is determined to find out the truth of it, and remind those who would stand with his enemies that he is the most powerful High Lord of Prythian.

Written for RhysandWeek2023. Day 3, prompt: Most Powerful High Lord. @officialrhysandweek

The room was packed with the affluent and moneyed denizens of the Hewn City. Voices boomed, each louder than the last—angrier than the last.

“And now he breeds with a woman, not a true high fae. A former mortal of the human realms.”

“No more than an upstart wench with a title.”

“Filthy mongrel—”

“Quiet!”

Rhysand watched silently as the remarks and accusations flit through the room, marking each face as their insidious words spewed like filth from the sewers. His face was concealed by a low-hanging hood as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the throne room with the High Fae around him.

He had veiled himself and his power, blending seamlessly into the crowd and shadows as nothing more than another lavish dissident that rocked the room with vicious mockery.

Azriel had told him of a growing unrest, a possible rebellion that festered in the bowels of the Hewn City. From the moment he became the High Lord of the Night Court, they’d resented his authority—his lineage. Tradition demanded that the High Fae rule, pure high fae, not one with Illyrian blood. Lesser blood.

His crown had only ever been tenuously accepted by the citizens through the stewardship of Keir, thankless, feckless Keir.

Keir who stood at the dais, just before the carved ebony throne of Rhysand’s line, and spewed measured vitriol and treason.

And though the citizens had resigned themselves long ago to Rhysand’s lordship, his marriage and newborn son had shaken them to their core, fomenting nothing but a new wave of dissent. They would see him dethroned, and his wife and child cast aside.

And that was unacceptable. They could bemoan and detest his rule, but they could not plot insurrection and revile his mate and his child. Azriel had reported that there were soldiers of Hybern who had found quarter here after they fled the field. The thought alone filled Rhysand with an icy, bitter rage.

In his anger, Rhys had considered wiping the Hewn City off the face of the map, but Feyre, his darling, even-handed Feyre, had stayed his hand. ‘There are dreamers even in the darkest of places, and I will not have them lost to the schemes of traitors,’ she had said. So rather than leveling the mountain and every vile traitor beneath it, he would find the serpent in the gutters of his city and flush them out, one by one. And, Rhysand suspected, he knew just where to start.

Treachery would not go unpunished.

Rhysand slipped through the crowd, pushing closer to the front. Fae after fae bandied their ire, voices rising as their frustrations grew. Keir had galvanized the room with a mastery that even Rhys found himself impressed with.

“Our High Lord shames this glorious city, just as he shames the hallowed crown upon his head. He breeds with filth, and expects us to follow an heir born of human stock.” Keir spit, eyes burning with fury and outrage. His voice was a low baritone as he added almost conspiratorially, “I refuse the authority of such questionable pedigree. Someday...someday he and his brood shall meet a most unwelcome end, of that I will guarantee.”

In one breath, Keir had crossed the line from dissent to mutiny. It was bold—deathly bold, to stand in Rhysand’s very own throne room and speak of such open treason.

The male in front of him muttered his agreement to Keir’s statements. Casually, Rhys reached up and splayed his fingers against the back of the male’s head, and with sudden spark his body burst into sheets of viscous red.

The crowd heaved away in confusion, eyes turned toward Rhys where he still stood with his arm outstretched.

Blood trailed from his hand and down his arm, soaking deep into his sleeves. He was covered in the male’s innards, but thought little of it. Rhys took a step forward, hands coming to draw the hood off of his face. With a gasp the crowd parted for him, fear draining their pallid faces. One by one they scrambled for the doors, grasping and clawing to pry them open, but Rhys had sealed them shut in anticipation of this moment.

Trapped. They were all of them trapped within the throne room with their Lord of Nightmares—a lord they had just openly plotted against.

Rhysand prowled forward, each step a slow, languid thing. He took the steps up the dais one at a time, and when he was just before that grotesque, ebony throne—his throne—he swept his arm out with a regal flourish. The midnight cloak he’d been wearing turned to mist and shadow as it slithered down his arms and through his hands. Tendrils of black coasted to the floor and pooled around his feet. Smoke writhed and curled from his broad shoulders until great, black wings rose out of the large panes of his back.

Slowly, he turned to face the crowd, to drink in their fear and terror at the sight before them. “I gather you all seek an audience with your High Lord?” His voice was made of satin and silk, a beautiful, seductive caress

Keir had gone unnaturally still. Fear creased the lines of his face, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Well now that I’m here, shall we?” Rhys lowered himself into his throne, wings tucking in carefully. Powerful legs stretched wide as his fingers steepled. He leaned back casually, the perfect picture of bored indolence.

The room was silent as the grave, a far cry from the impassioned cries just minutes before.

Rhys cocked his head, eyes sweeping over the assembled. “Come now, you all had so much to say.” His voice was playful, teasing; like a cat with a mouse. But they’d forgotten how to speak, rancid tongues shriveling in their mouths. Rhys looked to Keir now. “As steward of the Hewn City, surely you can speak on their behalf.”

Keir’s throat bobbed, his bold and brave words swallowed by cowardice. “M’lord...” he began, but he lapsed into tentative silence once more before trying again. “It was nothing, nothing but petty frustrations...no harm was meant.”

Rhys hummed low, the sound of it more akin to a growl. “What? How are you to guarantee mine and my brood's most unwelcome end, as you put it?” Violet eyes glittered with the promise of violence. There was no answer.

Rhysand sighed. “You see, I give you an inch, and you take a mile. It was my darling wife that opened your borders to that of more than just Velaris. She was the one that proposed new trade agreements and free movement from this city into the rest of my court. All of you were free to explore the vastness of this land outside your decrepit city, to build a society under this mountain that could move past your regressive traditions. But instead you chose to whisper dissent, harbor enemies of your High Lord and Lady, former warriors of Hybern.” Rhysand searched every last face before him. “You chose treason.” The weight of the word settled like the foundations of the very mountain the city was carved of.

Keir blanched and wrung his hands, pale skin going remarkably paler.

“I wonder, Keir, if you were the ruler of an independent Hewn City, how would you charge such conspirators?”

“I...a lord would investigate to come to the truth of such things...to see if there was any real risk—” a sudden shriek tore from Keir’s lungs and he crumpled to the floor on his knees. Rhysand flicked his fingers as he squeezed Keir’s organs from the inside out.

“Speak plainly to me. I tire of your duplicity.”

Keir sucked in a breath of air between his teeth, eyes blazing. “You...you desecrate your title. You’ve made a mockery of this court by parading that bitch as if she had any real authority.” Venom gushed from his mouth, the loathing behind them palpable. “You are no true High Lord, and the Hewn City rejects you, you and that farce you call a family.”

Ah, there it was. The true Keir, just as poisonous as Rhysand remembered him. Rhys smiled then, a cruel and terrible curve to that sensual mouth of his. Come and play, darling, he whispered down the bond that linked Feyre to himself.

The air around them whipped and distorted, wind lashing until the High Lady herself stepped out of the torrent of shadows like a beautiful spectre of the night. She stood tall, back straight and chin raised. Rhysand couldn’t help but trail his eyes down her full form. She wore a dress of midnight black silk with a daring neckline that plunged all the way to her navel. Smooth, powerful thighs and long legs were exposed by the slit in the skirt that tracked all thew way to her hips. His fingers itched to run a line up the lovely skin of her thighs and beneath the panel of that skirt.

Rhys held his hand out in offering, and Feyre moved to stand by his side at the throne, threading her fingers through his.

Feyre’s steel-blue eyes stared down her nose at Keir, where he huddled in pain before them, insides still painfully convulsing. “Rhys,” she said with a tone of light admonishment. With another wave of his hand he released Keir’s organs from the vice grip of his magic. The male sputtered and gasped, relief washing over his sickly grey face.

Feyre swept forward gracefully, the clicking of her heels bouncing off the chamber walls. She lowered herself to Keir’s level and crouched in front of him. Head tilted to catch his gaze, she clicked her tongue. “Oh Keir, what has my wretched husband done now?” Her voice was a serene lilt, and Rhys felt it like a wash of sunlight against his skin.

Keir glared up at her through his lashes, lips twisted into a sneer.

“Are you hurt?” she asked innocently, and reached out to gently touch the side of his face. He flinched away from her touch, contempt roiling off his very being, though Feyre seemed entirely unfazed. “Rhys does get rather cruel when provoked,” she mused, a smile quirking the edge of her painted lips. Rhys felt the intimate caress of her hands down the bond between them. He leaned into the sensation, lapping up any and every shred of her attention.

“You’re nothing more than a trussed up whore—a disgrace. Human waste!” The male seethed.

A feral growl erupted from Rhysand as he leaned forward, hands gripping the carved serpent heads upon his throne with enough force to splinter the dark rock. Shadows angrily coiled around the outline of his body, writhing in their choler.

“Ah—Rhys,” Feyre tutted again, tongue clicking against her teeth.

Violet eyes whirled with unbridled furor, the light in them swallowed by endless, deathly black. But he breathed slow and leaned back again as he awaited his mate’s command, eyes never leaving Keir’s clammy face.

“Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but I stopped being human when I was killed saving you lot.” Feyre’s eyes glittered with displeasure as she swept her gaze beyond Keir’s sniveling face. The temperature of the room dropped, and the crowd shrunk further back, away from her cool, disapproving stare.

Rhys could feel the righteous indignation burn hot and hungry in her gut, her composure slipping.

“Once a human, always a human,” Keir spat. “You are of ignoble blood. Unfit to wear the crown of Night.”

A single, manicured brow rose on her face as she flicked her gaze back to Keir. She paused as she took him in, assessing, calculating.

“The fact that our High Lord bows to you is a humiliation to great to bear. You should be ashamed of yourself, Rhysand.”

The sound Rhys made was of dark and heady amusement, lip curling into a contemptuous smirk. “She has a leash on me, and I am profoundly eager to serve.” His tone dripped with self-satisfaction.

“Is it a crown you want, Keir?” Feyre asked him, snapping his attention from the High Lord and back to her.

Keir scowled at her, but his eyes flashed.

“Your High Lady asked you a question,” Rhysand thundered, voice hard and cold as steel.

The room silently awaited his answer, every last breath sucked between cagey lungs.

“Yes.”

“Then it is crown you shall have,” Feyre replied without hesitation. She reached her hand up to cup the top of his head, palm and fingers spread from his forehead to his scalp.

Rhysand watched as Keir grit his teeth and hissed in pain. The skin along the edge of Feyre’s hand began to glow with a dim, orange light. In a show of defiance, Keir held her stare, eyes never wavering from her own. His face became mottled and flushed as the skin of his forehead blistered and sizzled around her hand.

“Fuck...you…” he grunted before a ring of fire exploded from her hand and swallowed his head. A crown of flames danced along his scalp, singing and scorching with a sweltering intensity. Keir screamed then, unable to hold back as Feyre’s magic seared his skin.

The room smelled of charred flesh and burnt hair, but Feyre did not yield, not as Kier screamed and convulsed, and not as the dissidents gasped in horror.

When Feyre was finally satisfied, she removed her hand from his face and inspected her work. Red, oozing blisters crowned his head. She stood then, lips pulled into a tight smile, and sauntered back to Rhysand where he still sat in his throne. Her hips swayed, and that countenance of hers shifted to one of mischief as she looked upon him. And by all the gods above and below, he loved when she misbehaved; loved when she reminded the world of her abundance of power.

He clasped her hand in his and pressed a delicate, reverent kiss to her knuckles as she circled to stand by his side. “And what of the rest, my love?” he spoke to her as if she were the only one in the room; as if they weren’t casually talking about the fate of every last soul in this chamber.

Feyre let out a soft hum as she searched her husband’s violet eyes, sketching every last star and galaxy within. Her hand traced along the edge of his shoulder, trailing toward the ridge of his neck. He lifted his chin, offering his neck to her in complete surrender. Her fingers dragged along the smooth and supple skin there, nails grazing.

Keir whimpered against the cold, dark stone of the throne room, chest heaving and half delirious, but alive.

Leaning down to capture Rhysand’s mouth with her own, Feyre murmured against his lips. “Show them the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. I want to taste him.”

Rhysand groaned into her mouth, savoring the taste of her violence and retribution. With a playful bite to his lower lip, Feyre pulled away. “I think I’ll take Mor a present. She’s owed that much,” she said as she paced back to where Keir lay prone and vulnerable, a shadow of his usual blustering-self.

“No, no…” he choked from his scorched and cracked lips. Feyre snatched his arm in a tight grip and turned to Rhys one final time. Rhys could see the desire swirling in her eyes, the voracious appetite that had ignited in her blood. It was a craving he was most eager to satisfy. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she winnowed away, shadows bending her and Keir into the ether and away from the Hewn City. She would await when he was done.

Rhysand turned his attention back to his subjects and stood, wings unfurling behind him. He addressed them now, voice hard and imperious as a King’s. “My whole life I have endured your vile judgments and your self-righteous lies. I have suffered your disdain. My son, and my mate, shall not.”

Screams hollowed out the throne room as Rhys purged the rot and corruption that had festered for centuries within the Hewn City.

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

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

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

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[daycourtofficial]

Gingerfucker - Eris x Rhys’s Sister!reader Masterlist

Banner by @milswrites | Note: these are in chronological order by content, not by posting date. This is an ongoing series and will be updated.

Summary: no one is more surprised than Eris Vanserra to find that he is capable of much more than just political ambition

Some art of the babies: (Nyx and Atlas) (All the gingersnaps) (Atlas and Leif) (Atlas) (the family)

Art by @dawneternal: Eris during the events of Cold was the steel of my axe to grind, portraits of the gingersnaps, art of Eris and Atlas

Gingerfucker week 2024 blurbs

Moodboard

It’s just to satiate the bond - an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

One single thread of gold tied me to you* - Eris accepts the mating bond and is incredibly touched by the effort you put into cooking him the meal from scratch

All’s well that ends well to end up with you - fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

I am ash from your fire - Surprising Eris one evening, you’ve turned up in the dead of night to let him know that your brother had figured out your secret relationship, offering you an ultimatum.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind - centuries of plotting and scheming come to a head when his mate unexpectedly arrives in Autumn and Eris is desperate to set his plans in motion, least she become a piece for Beron to use against him

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons - Eris leaves his mate alone in the Forest House, telling her to trust no one but his mother. The two women are ill-equipped to provide frontline fighting, but surely they can help Eris in their own way. *companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven - in the immediate aftermath of Beron’s death and the thrum of power in his veins, Eris’s mate forces him to, at the bare minimum, bathe

Secret exchanges - a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Blood moon in Autumn - fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Have I found you, flightless bird? - a reflection of a life of secrets and expectations and how, despite it all, a flightless bird found home in an unlikely place

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies - Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Starfall in Autumn - based on the prompt for Starfall week “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Laborious anxieties - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed - your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Amber eyes, looking into mine - Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

We started alone, in the end we’re okay - on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on his long life and the lonely nights that haunted his youth. And how he’s a long way from the person he was and the person he had to be.

Fireling - every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

How the kingdom lights shine just for me and you - Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Loving parents, harmless fun - Modern!Gingerfucker - slice of life where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

* = smut

[bones4thecats]

Henlo! Could I request some headcanons where Cooler, Frieza, Android 17, and Gohan get the "If anything happens, I love you" message from their S/O? Maybe S/O was away for a little while before getting into a dangerous situation, but is found injured but alive.

Their S/O Gets Severely Injured

Characters: Cooler, Frieza, Android 17 and Gohan Requester: ❤️‍🩹Anon A/N: I now nickname you ❤️‍🩹Anon, since your prompt is about y’know… healing and whatnot. Anyways, this is my first Dragon Ball piece so I do not guarantee that they are all in character, so warning there I guess. By the way, in Gohan's piece, the reader is female since y'know... Pan and all. Now, enjoy, I guess!

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»»————————————- 　 Cooler　 ————————————-««

🧊 When Cooler first inherited his portion of his family's army, he wasn't amused with how small it was. But, when comparing his power to his younger brother's, it was understandable why it was so differentiating when it comes to size

🧊 Thankfully, his father, King Cold, was kind enough to give him the district that you, his darling S/O of many years, lead with a high amount of nobility and pride

🧊 Cooler has been away for a while when you were sent out by Frieza to cover a nearby planet and either gain their trust or completely annihilate them without any mercy. It was truly your call there

🧊 But, when he returned to see that you and your band of armored warriors were missing and have been for a few hours, Cooler began to become nervous. You were never gone this long when taking care of some minor business on Frieza, King Cold, or even Cooler's orders

" Lord Frieza! There seems to be a misreading! "

" What do you mean by a misreading? " Frieza questioned, a sense of annoyance and a very small amount of curiosity laced him his already pissy tone.

" It seems that the planet we sent Section 213 to is full of powerful fire-demons, much like us! "

" What?! "

🧊 After hearing this, your lover demanded to see your coordinates and send out another section, Section 89, out to find you and your teammates. And while his younger sibling attempted to reassure him of your team's power, Cooler merely pushed him aside and began to descend with Section 89 right behind him

🧊 Once landed, Cooler began to fight with the team following suite, knocking each beast aside with relative average stats. While it took on average two or three members per monster, they were taking care of them relatively quick

" Y/N? Y/N, where the hell are you?! "

" She's over here, Master Cooler! "

🧊 Running at a high-speed that could be compared to the super-saiyan's, Cooler stopped in his tracks when seeing your bruised and cut-up body. You had a large gash on the side of your stomach, and he could tell from a mere few feet away that you needed immediate medical assistance

🧊 Once returned, Cooler yelled for the healers to fix you. Though, it was hard for them to focus with both Frieza and Cooler glaring at them from behind. Frieza was only there because he couldn't afford to lose a powerful warrior and by-far one of the most talented fighters he had left after the battle on Namek

🧊 At some point, the doctor had to push the two outside, which was where Cooler stayed while tyrannical emperor left to sort out the rest of his ship from the chaos

" Master Cooler. Your S/O is all patched up. "

" And? "

" They will make it perfectly well. They'll just need a few days of healing. They're quite lucky. If they were a mere Yardrat or Tuffle they'd most likely be beyond any kind of help. "

" Good. Now, leave. I must see them for myself. "

" Understood. "

🧊 While he sat down in a seat right beside your medical bed, Cooler just sighed and ran a hand across your cheek, which had multiple cuts and bruises, not to mention a slight burn that reached from your chin to your forehead in a straight line. Oh, how awful was it on that damned planet?

🧊 You'll tell him when you wake up. Yes you will. But for now, Cooler can lay his head down on your bed and rest for a bit before you awaken form your long-overdue power-nap

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»»————————————- 　 Frieza　 ————————————-««

🏔️ Frieza has hated being in Hell for the many years he was wrapped up like a larvae becoming a butterfly or moth and sung to like a baby by cutesy-bears and fairies. Due to this, he had a ton of pent-up anger. Which, while he did not mean it, he had accidentally taken out on a small fraction of his army

🏔️ From this lose in members, Frieza had no choice but to send out one of his best teams; Team Y/N. Which just so happened to be led by his favorite soldier and his one and only spouse, Y/N

🏔️ Before you and your team evacuated to check for any signs of life on the now-destroyed and bare wasteland that was once a prosperous land, you had left a solid message for your husband. One that he would forever regret not telling you in person

" If anything happens, I love you? That cheesy moron... "

" As if you are any better, brother. "

" Shut it, Cooler! "

🏔️ You and your team had just barely landed when one of them was snatched away with stupendous speed. This kind of speed was alarming to you and your underlings, causing a couple of them to panic and get snatched themselves

🏔️ Meanwhile on the ship, a fairly-rounded serving demon was observing the life-monitors that laid within each Frieza's Force member's body. And once he noticed the way they were immediately falling like flies, his tail feathers erupting and knocking his chair back, alarming his Highness

" What is going on down there?! " Frieza barked.

" Team Y/N is getting pummeled, killed even! We need to send people down there- now! "

🏔️ Frieza stood abruptly and ordered for the guards to follow him, after all, backup is necessary almost wherever the dangerous man went. Especially when it came to the safety of his lover

🏔️ Once landed, the sight of four out of the seven members of your team being impaled on the elongated tongues of horrifying and demonic-appearing beasts caused the Emperor of the Universe's heart to start racing. You better not have been harmed!

🏔️ The male raised his hand and sent a large beam of energy soaring at the monster, causing it's tongue to come flying off of it's mouth. The smell from it's blood was rancid, but if smelling this meant that you would be safe, then so be it

🏔️ You were located a mere few feet away, hiding behind a large boulder structure by Frieza. And once he picked you up, he rushed back to the ship, his men and yours following as they sent many beams at the creatures as they attempted to follow suit

🏔️ Back on the ship, Frieza sat in his room as the doctor healed you up. While he would love to be there for his dearest, the sight of their beaten and bloody body was by-far the only thing keeping him away from the Cui-copy's work

🏔️ The sound of his door being knocked on made him stand and ready himself, putting on his cool and composed facial expression before opening the door, ready to scold and possibly punish the soldier for daring to interrupt the most powerful being in the ship. How he would do so was already pulsating through his mind

" What is it you want? I am clearly in the middle of business. "

" Wow, you're seeming extra nice today. Are you sad I was hurt by that behemoth of a beast? "

🏔️ A small crack of his voice was heard as Frieza opened his eyes to see you standing there with a highly-functional mechanical cast around your leg, a small amount of pre-obtained energy holding your leg up and behind you in a position as if you were kneeling on one side

" Y/N... Why aren't you healing in the medbay?! I was about to come visit you! "

" Uh-huh. C'mon, the doctor said I needed to fix up my other leg's walking anyways! " Sarcasm was highly detecatble in your tone, causing Frieza to be slightly annoyed. Why are you being so calm?!

" That doesn't matter- "

" Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you got any wine back there? "

" W-what?! By what I remember, taking in alcohol, no matter the kind, with medication could cause someone to... overdose, if I remember correctly. "

" Aw~ Are you still worried about me?~ "

" S-shut it! Just- get in here already... you're a pain. "

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»»——————————- 　 Android 17　 ——————————-««

🐈‍⬛ This guy knew how dangerous this Tournament was, so why was he now just wondering why the enemy was being so tough on you, it was obvious that you were beaten, so why was he continuing?!

" Hey! He's going to far! "

" Y/N, hang in there! "

🐈‍⬛ Everyone's calls were only enraging your husband even farther as he fought against another Universe 5 fighter while you dealt with the other two dogs

🐈‍⬛ The yellow one, Lavender, has thrown so much of his poisonous energy at you that it was beginning to make your joints slow down, which alarmed the rest of your teammates. Hell, even Frieza was nervous at the sight- you had the amount of power that could level up to defeat him!

" Why you damned wolf! "

🐈‍⬛ Holding your hand up as you canceled out every sound around you, the slight movements of feet with fur and claws was the only thing you would allow through. This meant you would be able to both dodge and hit the remaining beast-men back with ease

" Take this! "

🐈‍⬛ Gripping his hand in yours, you could feel the poison rush through your body, but the feeling was numb to you, the amount of venom in your system seemingly muted out anymore seeping through your thick-skin

" Wait, what the hell?! "

🐈‍⬛ Android 17 smirked and jumped up before kicking the blue wolf, Bergamo, in your direction while you powered a whip of energy before wrapping Basil and Lavender up as you twirled them around and threw them away, grabbing Bergamo on the way as they soared back and off the edge of the field, resulting in a Universe 7 win

🐈‍⬛ 17 ran up to you and wrapped his arms around you before you were teleported back up to your teammates for a small intermission granted by Zeno upon Goku's request

" What were you thinking? "

" About the survival of our home, and our family. "

" And while I appreciate that, Y/N, you must be more careful with your limits. I don't need another Goku around. "

" Hey! "

🐈‍⬛ Hearing you chuckle as Whis laid his staff on your forehead before booping you and releasing your body of the poison's affects made your husband smile gently and hold you close as Universe 7's angel chanted with an 'all better now!'

" Don't you ever scare me like that again, you hear? "

" Nope, you forgot a couple of things in that sentence there, mister. "

" Why you... alright. Please don't ever scared me like that again. I love you to much for that to happen. "

" That's better. "

🐈‍⬛ While you laid your foreheads upon one another's, the sound of Goku and Frieza gagging in the back caused you to laugh as 17 just sighed like a disappointed father

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»»————————————- 　 Gohan��� ————————————-««

📚 Unlike his father, Gohan was primarily focused on his work and studies growing up. Putting his training behind for helping his family of his wife, Y/N, and his young daughter, Pan, prosper in life

📚 You on the other hand, adored to fight. As you were raised by your favorite person on Earth, who also just so happened to be a fellow descendant of the Three-Eyed People, Tien Shinhan

📚 As Pan grew older, you would help Piccolo and others train her, teaching her valuable lessons in minor training for her human-side while Piccolo handled her more alien side, which came from your husband

📚 Gohan knew that sometimes you would go out and about with his father's old friends in order to handle some ordeals, and with you being one of the strongest human fighters in their current time, you were practically required to attend

📚 As you kissed your daughter's forehead and gave your husband the tightest hug known to the half-blooded Saiyan, you gave him a final message until you returned a few days later

" If anything happens, I love you. "

📚 If anything happens? How far away were you going this time?

📚 While it was quite a hassle balancing his job and caring for Pan by himself, Gohan was grateful to have both his mother, Chi-Chi, his sensei, Piccolo, and his childhood friend, Videl, all there to help out once and a while

📚 He couldn't wait for when you would come home. Counting down the days with fun dinners for him and his daughter as the calendar was decorated with cute little stickers from Videl

" Hey Papa? Why does Mama look so beaten up? "

" She probably- wait she looks what?! "

" She has a big cut on the side of her face. It looks like it's bleeding a lot! "

📚 Gohan opened the front door of your home and picked you up quickly before rushing inside and running towards the bathroom to find your first-aid kit. Well, one of the many you had around the house

📚 Pan looked worried as you picked her up and laid her on your lap, brushing your hand through her hair as she sniffed and began to allow tears to bulge up in her eyes. You never liked to see your daughter in any kind of distress, especially emotionally. Physical scars can heal, but emotions are far harder to fix

" Mama, where did you get the cut...? "

" Let's just say... Mama got into a fight with some bad people and Mama kicked their butts. "

" Really? What were they like? Were they s... sai... "

" Saiyans? "

" Yeah! Were they Saiyans like Papa? "

📚 As Gohan walked back into the room with gauze being prepared in his hands, he saw just how comfortable Pan asked you questions while you avoided the topic of exactly who you fought and what happened on that planet miles away

" Y/N, can you please lift your headpiece up? "

📚 You did as your husband asked as you laid your thick head piece on the side, it was cracked from some force coming from your now deceased enemy, but it was nothing that Bulma couldn't fix!

📚 While Gohan bandaged up your head and arms, Pan asked both you and him questions of the days back when you both fought side-by-side. And whenever you mentioned him singing with the old dragon, Icarus, his face erupted in a mix of pink and red

📚 Why was your memory so damn good...

" Can I hear the song? "

" I don't think Piccolo would like to be reminded of that... again... "

" All the more reason to do it! "

[inklessletter]

Since I can't draw tonight, here's a steddie prompt for you:

Steve runs away from home once he becomes eighteen because his home environment is absolutely toxic. It's all yelling, and spitting insults, and constantly hearing that he is such a disappointment, so he decides to hit the road and go some city away from everyone he knows and just start over. His trauma response to loud, aggressive spaces leads him to accept a job managing a school library.

And he finds out it is his dream job.

He sees all these teens studying, sharing glances, romances beginning, stress increasing as midterms come closer, annoyed faces, giggling girls gossiping, kids vandalizing his tables... And he feels an observant. A watcher.

And he imagines. He imagines their lives, the tall jock with the widest smile going soft for the sarcastic redhead. The quiet thing blossoming between tose two boys who give longing glances when the other is not looking. The oddest friendship between the meanest eleven year old he's ever met and the most cynical kid to ever set foot in that school. He sees and he imagines, but he's silent.

Because silence is a precious shield that protects his imagination. Silence will never hurt him.

His first real friendship begins in silence. This girl, Robin, passes him a note with a poor drawing of him falling asleep on his desk. It made him laugh. She laughed too. That was enough.

They play this game together in which they both exchanged the craziest theories they could think of about other people's lives.

That one is a Russian spy.

That one runs a secret lab.

That one has mind powers (okay, that was maybe too crazy).

That one is an former cop.

"That one is a rockstar," Robin said pointing an absurdly good looking guy that was checking out a couple of books.

"He does looks like one, though..."

Robin was going to reply when she noticed Steve's rosy cheeks. She just smiled. She noticed the guy looking briefly at them, and then he grinned.

"Metal is more my scene, but close enough," he said.

Shit.

The guy approached them and Robin, the traitor, bolted away. The guy, all dimples and soft hair lent Steve two books and his library card (Munson, Eddie), that he registered and gave back to him.

Steve tried hard not to be an awkward mess, he barely managed to.

"I do actually play in a band, uh, on Tuesdays," Eddie said. Steve looked at him with a twist in his stomach. "And today is Tuesday. So if you want to come, I would gladly buy you a drink."

Steve felt a lump in his throat, and looked down.

"Uh, I—I don't—"

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"I don't do well with loud noises," Steve said quickly. "I'm sorry."

Eddie nodded.

"Good luck tonight," Steve said, not wanting to leave the conversation in a rejection. He pointed the book. "This one is really good."

"Have you read The Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled. "I've got time and silence here."

Eddie looked at him with something hidden in his pupils meant to be discovered by Steve.

Eddie left the library.

There were a few days and a lot of conversations with Robin about that Eddie guy. Steve let himself imagine again, about him. About Eddie. He fantasized a lot, ignoring deliberately the sting in his guts knowing that he blew up his chance.

Two weeks passed and Eddie was there to return the books again, with a small guitar case hanging in his back, and Steve tried his best not to look like a kicked puppy.

"I can do soft noises," Eddie said, out of the blue. It earned him a look from both Robin and Steve. "When do you, uh, have a break?"

"Right now," Robin chimed in, quickly. "He's having a break right now."

A few minutes later they were in the rooftop. They found a comfortable spot with the best views and Eddie took out an old and battered ukulele. Then he looked at Steve.

"I am not a silent person. I exist in noise, and busy environments, and awful high pitched laughs," he said with a smile. "I can't change that, but I can change the noise."

Eddie caressed the tiny guitar strings, and the sound sent goosebumps through all Steve's skin.

"I can change the noise for you," Eddie said, low and soft, and he started playing a song. "If you let me."

His first real love began with music.

[gerec]

best long fics? i've only been reading oneshots lately. i like cherik which can be a book too.

To make this list even a tiny bit manageable I'm choosing to define 'long' as over 100k. There are a lot of superb fics on this list, Anon; happy reading!

Nine Eleven Ten by Subtilior (WIP - the definition of a fandom classic with fantastic worldbuilding)

Years later, Charles would remember that day. Sometimes he would wonder if he could have changed anything; other times he would despair over what he had since become. But he would always hold the image in his mind: Raven, laughing, and his thoughts flying alongside her on strong wings, silver-gold through the winter air. Once upon a time.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us by ikeracity, Pangea

Intergalactic Federation pilot Lieutenant Charles Xavier is assigned last-minute to a high profile mission: transporting over two thousand prison inmates from an old and overfilled prison complex to a newer, higher-capacity prison stronghold located on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Just as he's settling down for a long and uneventful ride, things take a turn for the worse after the inmates riot and stage a hostile takeover of the ship, leaving Charles to find himself at the complete mercy of cold-blooded killers and facing the chilling prospect that he might not ever make it back home alive.

A Curious Carriage of Crystal and Cold by Etharei

Charles, a miner from a poor village in the countryside, saves the life of Erik Lehnsherr, scion of a successful business family and the richest man on the planet Eisen. Charles is a telepath and somewhat anxious about it, while Erik abstains from relationships because the lights flicker and doors open and electronics vibrate when he gets too excited.

Also featuring a long-suffering sister, a foul-mouthed bodyguard, and a best friend with a heart that is definitely not gold.

In which there are princes, spaceships, long journeys, and old secrets uncovered. (An AU sci-fi fairytale)

Tessellation by nekosmuse

He had been following Xavier's career for years. He had read and reread and reread again everything the man had written. He had tried, on more occasions than he could count, to recruit Xavier into the Brotherhood, but each request for a meeting had been denied. Aside from his work, no one knew anything about Xavier. Not what he looked like, not the full extent of his power--though from what little they did know, he was by far the most powerful telepath in existence--and not what his intentions were.

The man was a recluse. As far as Magneto knew, Xavier had never once stepped foot outside his impenetrable Westchester manor. And now he was scheduled as the keynote speaker for the largest pro-mutant conference in the world.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

Everyday Love in Stockholm by tahariel

Prompt: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

The Proper Care of Actors by afrocurl, Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etharei (series)

Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

The Associates by ikeracity, Pangea (series)

Being a mob boss' associate has its ups and downs. Having sex in the back of a limo on Valentine's Day is definitely one of the ups.

The Sonnet Series by afrocurl, nekosmuse (series)

Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Space Oddity by MonstrousRegiment, Pangea (series)

Prince Charles Xavier is Deputy Commander of the TEF Heartsteel and the newest mission they've been assigned starts out less than desirable and quickly goes downhill from there. It's alright, though, he'll cope.

It doesn't help, though, that he's in unrequited love with his best friend and Commander of the Heartsteel, War-Prince Erik Lehnsherr.

Nation Building and other Diplomatic Negotiations by Pookaseraph

With the recent passage of a submissive registration law in the United Kingdom, there are now only two industrialized nation with a relatively stable government to have neither a mutant nor a submissive registration law. Erik Lehnsherr, the newly minted King of Genosha, and his Prime Minister Emma Frost intend to take advantage of this turn of events to bring the Xavier Institute to the island nation of Genosha. They both know bringing Charles Xavier, the noted activist of mutant and submissive rights, to the island will necessarily politicize the man, and create all manner of complications. With a constitution not yet finalized and external threats to Genoshan security all around them, Erik, Emma, and Charles will fight for what they believe in to shape Genosha into what it should be.

Do You Love Me by cgf_kat

Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

Ritual Self-Torture by TurtleTotem

For the following prompt: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

But I Would Walk Five Hundred Miles, And I Would Walk Five Hundred More by luninosity (series)

In which Charles isn't really an escort, Erik thinks he only wants a one-night stand, everybody's got a past, and there's quite a lot of sex on the way to the happy ending.

We Met At The Park by StarRose

AU, no powers, based on McAvoy's performance as Martin in Murder In Mind. Unable to sleep one night Erik takes a midnight walk in the local park. He finds himself being followed and propositioned by a rent boy named Charles, and begins to fall rather rapidly for his charms. Charles however has never known what love is, and doesn't recognise it even when it's staring at him in the face. As for Erik, he doesn't realise a creeping illness is slowly affecting Charles, and his dark past is something he couldn't have imagined.

Strict Machine by euphorbic

When Professor Charles F Xavier accepted a visiting professor position in Arizona, he did so in order to be geographically closer to his sister. What he did not expect to find was the living, breathing specter of the sportbike gang-oriented past he’d been trying to put to rest.

A tale of sport bikes, consequences, and sacrifice.

MAD Dogs by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik (series)

Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Bit of a detective fic? Really just an excuse for us to play around with MAD (Mutant Apprehension Division) that we created in Playing House.

A Doll's House by lachatblanche

Welcome to the Dollhouse, where all your dreams and fantasies come true. At a price. Based on the TV show Dollhouse.

[melzula]

The Necklace

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: apologies for how long this took me! this piece is a request and though it is part of the fire lilies series i think it can also be read as a stand alone

summary: Zuko asks Sokka for help with an important task

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

It was a busy day in the Southern Water Tribe as preparations for the upcoming Lunar Festival began. In two days your people would carry out the longstanding tradition of honoring the moon spirit for blessing the tribes with water bending, and as Chief you had much to do to ensure everything went smoothly.

Nine years have passed since the war ended, and in that time the South has completed its era of reconstruction and is now a strong and unified nation able to hold its own alongside the other countries. Resources are plentiful, commerce is high, the number of water benders in the tribe grows each year, and your people are happy.

As you had set out to do, you’d created the harbor to allow those from other nations to visit your home and learn about your culture. This not only led to a boom in your economy, but it also brought great pride to the South as you shared your culture and gifts with those curious to learn about your history. Your relationship with the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom strengthened as a result, and you were happy to see everyone getting along. The next step to maintaining progress was establishing embassies in the other nations, and construction in the Fire Nation was already underway. You’d accomplished many things so far in your time as Chief, but you know most of it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of your friends.

Hakoda and Malina had been a great help in modernizing the tribe, and once their work was done Malina found herself returning to the North after an amicable split from the advisor. On the other hand, Hakoda had recently stepped down from his position, deciding it was time to retire and allow the next generation the chance to lead the South into the future. And so that led you to where you are now, discussing the perfect layout for the festival grounds with your newly appointed advisor.

“I think the game booths would look best set up along the perimeter of the courtyard to leave room for the merchant stands in the center,” Sokka notes thoughtfully as you look over his roughly drawn map of the proposed layout. “If everything looks good to you we can begin setting up immediately to have it ready in time for the first day of the festival.”

“I think it looks great, Sokka! You know, you’re a natural at this whole advisor thing,” you compliment with a teasing nudge to his side. Having Sokka step in for his father was the obvious choice when it came time to pick a new advisor. The water tribe boy had always been a shoulder for you to lean on and a person you could go to for guidance, and you can’t even count how many times he’s kept you out of harms way. No one was more qualified for the job than him, and it filled you with joy to be running the tribe alongside one of your closest friends.

“I really am, aren’t I?” He agrees with a proud grin, prompting you to regret inflating his ego so much. “Hey, is Zuko still coming by for the festival?”

“He is! I just received a letter from him yesterday promising his arrival,” you sigh wistfully as your eyes turn towards the portrait of the Fire Lord on your desk. “We haven’t had much time to see each other lately, so I’m excited to finally spend time with him.”

“You guys are pretty good at this whole long distance thing,” he notes thoughtfully, “you make it seem so easy.”

“I think it helps that we’re both always kept so busy running our own nations, but it doesn’t make me miss him any less. Now that things have calmed down I just hope we’ll be able to sneak away and visit each other more often.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen,” Sokka vows earnestly while placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “As advisor, it’s my job to make your job easier, and that’s just what I’m going to do.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” you reply with a careful smile before returning your attention to the plans laid out before you. “Now, is there any way we can make space for a seal jerky stand?”

~~~

Zuko’s stomach was in knots.

The harbor was fast approaching as his ship began to close the distance between the sea and the shore, and in just a short amount time he’d be back in the South. With time he’d begun to feel like less of an outsider to the tribe’s people, they’d come to accept him as an ally rather than a threat after helping their Chief time and again, and so how his arrival would be perceived wasn’t on his list of worries. This trip to the Water Tribe would be different, maybe even life changing if all went according to plan, but there was no way to know for sure until he got there.

Sokka is waiting at the edge of the harbor when Zuko finally disembarks from the ship and sets foot on the wooden docks. The Fire Lord isn’t able to say anything before his friend immediately tackles his figure in a strong bear hug.

“Zuko, it’s so good to see you, buddy!” He exclaims before pulling away to get a good look at his friend. “Your hair got longer!”

“So did yours,” Zuko replies with a light chuckle before surveying his gaze along the docks.

As if reading his mind, Sokka explains, “Y/n’s teaching a healing class right now so she sent me in her place. I’ll be taking you back to the palace so you can settle in and get ready for dinner with her and her mother.”

“I see,” the fire bender notes quietly, almost relieved by the fact that you’ll be preoccupied for the next hour or so. It makes his current task much easier.

Noticing the preoccupied look on his friend’s face as the two begin to venture towards the palace, the water tribe boy places a comforting hand on Zuko’s shoulder and asks, “Everything okay? You have a weird look on your face and you don’t seem as excited as you should be to see y/n later.”

“I am excited, I just also happen to be nervous,” he corrects before letting out an anxious sigh. His features turning serious, Zuko stops in his tracks and shifts to face Sokka head on. "I have a favor to ask you, an important one, but before that I need to tell you something, and you have to keep it to yourself.”

"Of course, Zuko, anything."

“Now that there is peace among nations and things are finally falling into place, I think it’s time I propose to y/n,” the Fire Lord declares with a bashful smile and a blush spreading across his face. “I came on this trip not only to enjoy the festival but to also ask her mother for her blessing.”

Shock is written all over Sokka’s face as his mouth hangs open in surprise at his friend’s confession. However, his dumbfounded look is soon replaced with one of joy as he lifts Zuko up off the ground in a tight hug.

“I can’t believe it! My best friends are going to get married! This is great news!” He exclaims much to Zuko’s dismay. With a scowl, the fire bender worms his way out of the hug and gives the water tribe boy a pointed look.

“Keep your voice down!” He scolds while looking around frantically to make sure no one has overheard them. “I don’t want her to find out and ruin the surprise. I also don’t exactly know how our people are going to react to this marriage, so I’d like to keep it private for now.”

“Sorry, you’re right. My lips are sealed,” Sokka solemnly swears, but his giddy grin remains glued to his face. “Can I at least see the ring?”

“That’s the thing,” he says whilst awkwardly grasping the back of his neck. Almost sheepish, Zuko admits, “there is no ring. I want to do it the right way by making her a betrothal necklace, but I have no idea where to start. Can you help me?”

“You’re asking me for help?” Sokka retorts emotionally, his eyes almost immediately welling with tears. Quick to brush them away, he sniffles and rests a firm hand on the Fire Lord’s shoulder. “Buddy, I am going to help you make the greatest betrothal necklace in the history of the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Thank you, Sokka. I knew I could count on you,” he affirms with a careful smile, and though one of his tasks has been completed, Zuko knows he still has a lot of work cut out for him before this trip is over.

Spirits help him.

~~~

You let out a quiet hum as you clean up after the day’s healing class. A grunt leaves your lips as you hoist one of the practice mannequins over your shoulder and work to set it into the closet. Master Pakku retired as your co-instructor a few years back to enjoy married life with Kana, and so it was now on you to prepare, run, and organize class. You managed fairly well on your own, but it was times like these where you missed having someone to help- the mannequins did start to get heavy after a while.

You’re too busy trying to shove the last practice doll into the closet to notice someone has joined you, so you can’t help but jump in alarm when a voice asks, “Need a hand?”

You turn with a start, but your fear immediately morphs into pure joy when you see your boyfriend standing before you. He opens his arms to you with a smile and you immediately throw yourself into his embrace, hugging him so tightly that the wind is nearly knocked out of him.

“Zuko, you’re here!” You exclaim with glee before reaching up to pepper his face with kisses. “I’m so happy to see you, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Princess,” he chuckles, his cheeks growing red as a result of your assault. “I know we were supposed to meet for dinner, but I couldn’t wait to see you. Sokka told me you’d be here.”

“I’m glad you came,” you admit with a smile before allowing Zuko to put away the last mannequin for you. With the practice room finally tidy and organized, you take Zuko’s hand and begin your trek towards the palace.

“How is festival planning going?”

“It’s going wonderfully! The crew I hired will begin set up tomorrow so that the merchants can begin preparing their stands. I’m aiming to make it our best lunar festival yet!”

“With you in charge, I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” Zuko compliments. There are guards waiting at the doors when you arrive, and after giving you both a curt nod you’re allowed passage into the palace. The familiar icy architecture greets him with a chill, but the Fire Lord gladly welcomes the feeling.

Your mother waits at the end of the hallway for you both with a smile and immediately envelopes Zuko in a hug when you reach her.

“Zuko, it’s so nice to see you again! I’m thrilled you’re joining us for dinner.”

“Thank you, Kira. It’s an honor to be your dinner guest,” he replies with a careful smile.

“I’m going to get freshened up before we eat, but you two go ahead and get seated without me,” you inform both of them before departing to your room. You turn down the hall and disappear into your bedroom, effectively leaving Zuko alone with your mother.

“Come, the dining room is this way,” your mother instructs him as she guides the boy to his seat. A wave of nerves suddenly washes over Zuko as he realizes the perfect opportunity to speak to your mother about his proposal is now before him. With you gone, it’s his only chance to have a moment alone with the woman. This conversation could make or break your relationship, and this thought weighs heavily as he seats himself across from her.

“Are you feeling alright, Zuko? You look flushed,” she points out with a concerned look. Harshly swallowing down his nerves, the fire bender decides it’s now or never.

“I’m fine, but… there is actually something I’d like to speak with you about.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” the woman assures him with a comforting smile and her undivided attention. “What is it that’s on your mind?”

“Well,” he begins, anxiously grasping at the back of his neck, “first I want to start by saying I never really apologized for taking away your only daughter all those years ago, but I’d like to do so now. It was a rash decision based upon the fear of never getting to see her again, and I thought running away together was the only option. However, I never once stopped to think about how that would affect you and your people. I was separated from my own mother once, and so I can only imagine the pain you must have felt worrying about her whereabouts and if she was happy. And truthfully, she wasn’t. But I’ve spent every day since trying to make it up to her.”

The room is silent but the air is void of any tension. Though an array of emotions wash across your mother’s face at Zuko’s confession, there is no hint of malice or resentment. Rather, her eyes are understanding and her lips hold an unwaveringly careful smile as she takes in his words and his disquieted nature.

“I won’t sugarcoat things and say that it wasn’t hard having my only child leave my home,” she notes thoughtfully much to his dismay. Sensing his apprehension, she is quick to continue on, “but I know that in the grand scheme of things it was for the best. Y/n wouldn’t be the water bender or Chief she is today if she had never left the South. I hold no grudges and I certainly don’t blame you for the choices she made.”

“I appreciate your kindness and openness,” he says with a respectful bow of his head, “it makes this next part less terrifying.”

Intrigued by his wording, your mother raises a brow and asks, “What will be less terrifying?”

Taking in a deep breath, Zuko meets your mother’s gaze with eyes full of sincerity and passion. It really is now or never.

“I came on this trip not only for the lunar festival but also with the intention of crafting a betrothal necklace for y/n. I know there is no future for me without her in it, and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy. I don’t know for certain the implications a marriage between us has on the future of our nations, but I do know that I will do whatever I must to be with her. However, before I propose, I wanted to get your blessing. I’d like to do things the right way this time, and I want you to know my intentions.”

Kira is silent for a long time, her face full of shock but still unreadable to a tense Zuko who waits with bated breath for a response. For a moment he fears that perhaps he’s misspoke, that he is unworthy of asking such a request and has offended the matriarch, but then her shocked expression morphs into one of joy, and Zuko immediately feels the tension in his shoulders dissipate at the sight of her smile.

“I knew this day would one day come, and I can’t tell you how I thrilled I am to know you’d like to marry my daughter,” she exclaims gleefully, her eyes shiny with tears that she works hard to keep at bay. “You have proven yourself time and time again to be a good man, Zuko, and I know you will make a wonderful husband for my y/n. You absolutely have my blessing.”

“Thank you, Kira,” he exhales gratefully as he rises from his seat and meets the woman across the table with a tight hug. A tremendous weight has now been lifted off of his shoulders, and he is one step closer to marrying the love of his life. “I promise to love and honor y/n for as long as I live.”

“I have no doubt in my mind about that.”

“Wow, what did I miss?” Your curious voice interrupts as you stumble upon their embrace, a confused smile displayed across your features. Your mother gives Zuko’s side a squeeze before releasing him back to you.

“I was just expressing my gratitude to the man that has proven time and time again to be the perfect partner for my daughter,” she expresses with a jovial glint in her eyes that you aren’t quick enough to detect. Zuko is grateful you’re completely oblivious to their previous conversation, and he hopes it will continue to stay that way until he’s ready to propose.

“He’s more than perfect,” you compliment before pressing a chaste kiss to his warm cheek, making his heart melt in the way you’ve always done since you were children.

He can’t wait to spend forever with you.

~~~

The lunar festival goes off without a hitch.

The royal plaza is filled to the brim with people enjoying the food and festivities as they pay homage to their beloved moon spirit and her gifts. You’re absolutely thrilled to see your hard work in action, and Zuko is enamored by the joy that spreads itself across his face. Every smile that curls upon your lips makes him weak in the knees, and he’d love to simply sit and admire your radiance all night if he could.

But of course, Sokka had other plans.

While you’d been wrapped up in a conversation with your old friend Kai and his new fiancé, the water tribe boy took it upon himself to sneak Zuko away to the rocky shores in search of the perfect stone.

“Before you can make the necklace, you have to pick a rock that speaks to you.”

“Speaks to me?” Zuko retorts with furrowed brows. “It’s a rock.”

“It’s not just a rock, Zuko,” Sokka rebuttals defensively to an annoyed Fire Lord. “It’s a symbol of your love for y/n! If you want to do this the right way then you have to find a stone that calls to your heart the same way she does.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” he mutters sheepishly in response, his cheeks tinting red at the intimacy of it all. He knew crafting a necklace would be a great responsibility, but he didn’t expect it to be so personal.

Surveying the vast expanse of rocks at his disposal, Zuko carefully scrutinizes each and every one. He wants the stone to be perfect because you deserve to have the perfect betrothal necklace, but the thought of not being able to find the right one makes him anxious. If it’s not the right one, then what will that mean for your marriage?

Nothing his friend’s obvious apprehension, Sokka places a comforting hand on his shoulder and explains, “Don’t stress about it too much, Zuko. Just trust your gut.”

“Easy for you to say,” Zuko scoffs in irritation, “you’re not the one dealing with the pressure of making the perfect betrothal necklace.”

“No, but I am dealing with the pressure of helping you make the perfect betrothal necklace,” he counters with a prideful grin, and while usually a comment like that would provoke an irate response from Zuko, the Prince was much too enamored by a rock sticking out of the sand to craft a proper comeback.

The moonlight almost seemed to shine down upon the rock as if beckoning him to grab it. The stone was cool in his palm, smooth to the touch and almost perfectly free of any ragged edges or scrapes. It sat daintily in his hand, delicate despite its toughness, and it reminded him of you.

“This is the one,” he utters in quiet awe before looking up at the moon. Eyes gleaming, he smiles and murmurs a “thank you.”

“You’re one step closer to the perfect necklace, buddy,” Sokka congratulates with a hearty pat on the back before guiding the Fire Lord back to the village. “You just need to add the finishing touches.”

The two wind up back inside Sokka’s hut with an array of tools sprawled out amongst them. After discussing multiple options and looking through various crudely drawn sketches by Sokka, Zuko settled upon a carving that he felt best encapsulated the nature of your relationship- a carving that displayed not only your differences but also your strengths and unity.

Attaching the stone to the blue silk ribbon, the two boys sit back in silence to admire Zuko’s creation.

“You think this is the best betrothal necklace the water tribe’s ever seen?” He jokes quietly in an attempt to mask his nerves. Now that the work is done reality has begun to set in for Zuko, and he realizes now the only thing left to do is actually propose.

“The best,” Sokka replies quietly, the emotion evident in his voice despite how hard he tries to hide it. He sniffles and wipes away the tears that threaten to spill before looking to his companion with a smile. “She’s going to love it.”

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu @heartfully10 @creationcitystreet-em

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @cipheress-to-k-pop @potato87123

[readychilledwine]

Hello!! I recently found your blog and I love your writing! I was looking at the writing prompts and I fell in love with the touch starved ones.

I was wondering if you could write a Eris or Tarquin x f reader for “the reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it”? I love both males so which ever one is easier for you. But I love the idea of like a stoic reader but the male knows they like physical affection as long as the reader doesn’t look needy.

Thanks in advance and Happy Holidays :)

Take my Hand

Warning - I changed a little bit of the High Lords meeting because THEY ALL WERE TOO NICE. I love Rhysand, Feyre, and the Night Court, but Kal and Tarquin were way too nice for people who felt their courts were personally targeted by Rhys (Kal especially), self doubt, Beron

A/n - the man in that gift has delicious forearms. I just know it. Ps- I know the fandom as a whole wants to push this narrative that Beron is ugly, but you're calling my book one Lulu ugly when you do that. SJM specifically says Lucien's face in that book is similar to Beron's. I think we all need to face the reality that the man is attractive. He's just a dick and that ruins it.

You were drowning.

High Lord's meetings were not your cup of tea, and they never had been.

Maybe it was your young age, rivaled only by your mate's. Maybe it was the amount of loud males yelling and throwing insults that reminded you far too much of your power-hungry father. Maybe it was just that you were "a sleepy girl," as your mate always so lovingly suggested when you'd rest on his chest.

But this just wasn't your scene.

You rolled your eyes, keeping that bored mask in place as Rhysand went into yet another long dragged out monolog about how he wasn't the monster you all believed he was. It was his third one in less than an hour.

You felt Tarquin look at you from the corner of his eye.

Despite how much you hated being here, you loved him, Gods did you love him. And he needed you.

There were arguments from every delegation of who has the most handsome High Lord. You saw beauty in all of them, though.

Tamlin for his flowing golden hair and piercing green eyes.

Helion for that smirk, his skin that was so flawless you had begged him countless times for his skincare routine.

Kallias was the vision of untouched beauty. He looked like freshly fallen snow.

Thesan for his sharp casual wardrobe, his untouched skill and intelligence, his kind eyes.

Rhysand for being the beauty of night itself. Dark inky hair on golden sun kissed skin. Eyes that held the cosmos like he knew all their secrets.

Even Beron, the oldest of them, had looks that held wisdom as he aged like a fine wine before all of you.

But Tarquin, none of them could hold a candle to. His white hair contrasting against his skin, those ocean eyes, his voice.

You had won the mating lottery with him in looks alone.

But it was his kindness, the one trait so many mistook for weakness, that made you truly fall for him. His kindness and his observational skills.

Tarquin's brows knitted, mouthing a soft "Are you okay?"

You only responded with a smile and small eye roll as Rhys began claiming he had not slaughtered the children in Winter. That another unknown daemati had, and he had convinced Amarantha to do that instead of murdering Kal. All before trying to garner sympathy.

You set your wine glass down a little harder than intended at that. Annoyed that he had an excuse for everything. That he blame shifted everything he had been confronted with so far. Kal rose a brow at you, then smirked. "I believe even, y/n, thinks you are full of shit, Rhysand."

You looked down instantly, cheek heating as everyone's gaze fell toward you. "Would you like to say something?" Thesan spoke gently to you. "Perhaps you can shed some light on the situation in the Summer Court?"

You felt it then. The soft tug on the bond as Tarquin held his hand out to you.

He didn't mean to make you look or feel weak. He didn't mean to make it look like he was reigning you in. He meant it to comfort you. To bring you back to him. Back to this moment. This critical meeting that could decide the fate of your court. Your home. His fae. Fae you two had been spending so much time bring to break the social standards with. Fae you were just earning the trust of.

He offered you his hand as his love, as his support, and as a grounding tool. You took it silently, body easing at the softness and warmth of his fingers and palms.

"You came to our home, and we welcomed you as honored guests," you started slowly, refusing to look at him. "We told you our hopes, the steps we were taking for equality, far taxation, wages, you pretended to care and support us. Then you stole from us. You stole from us when we welcomed you as our friends."

Feyre looked down, guilt now hitting her. You two had grown close quickly. Instant friends who enjoyed each other's company. "We had no choice," Rhysand answered smoothly.

"You could have asked us," Tarquin replied. "You could have told us the truth and asked us. Now you ask us to blindly trust you when you've already done that, and your mate, your Court's High Lady, opened the gate for Hybern to enter my territory out of rage against Tamlin."

Rhys had no response. He was looking to you. "Your only saving grace with me, Rhysand," you felt Tarquin squeeze your hand to calm the wave of emotion going through you, "is the fact that your court is the only one who came when we were attacked. Why did you bother doing that after everything you had done?"

Tarquin hummed his approval softly, another gentle squeeze and tug on the bond.

Rhysand's offer was soft. His voice showing he understood the hurt he had done. The personal damage his actions had caused. "Because that's what friends do."

You sighed, allowing Tarquin to take over as the stoic mask of silence fell back in place. Three squeezed came to your hand. A message you and he had made when you were trapped under that mountain together.

It was a message.

One you felt as you squeezed his hand three times back.

"I love you," it said.

Five squeezes came next, conveying the message you needed, "You are safe. I'm here." You broke that mask. Hand moving up to his bicep and head falling into his shoulder. You didn't listen as Rhys addressed you, your court.

You knew you personally would not forgive them.

But if Tarquin did, you would support him, so long as he kept your hand in his.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Not @shootingstarrfish and I trying to come up with some sort of timeline for when Solomon first meets Diavolo like "It was before the fall, and the fall would be roughly around 1700 BCE as that's what Google refers to as "biblical times" and we know humans already existed because of the Lilith of it all, so it wasn't before the creation of Adam and Eve. We can assume Sol is going to be where it's bumpin', so if we look at Babylon in 1800-1700 BCE, we can get an idea of his outfit and what's going on in the world." ...And then we remember that this a fictional game about romancing immortal beings. Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 31 Prompt: Diavolo 1.5k Solomon first meets the future King of the Devildom FEATURING ART BY @shootingstarrfish

Solomon took a deep breath, gazing up at the spectacle that was the Demon King’s castle. The marble steps were particularly elegant, a unique crimson color that Solomon assumed to be native to the Devildom. The Fountain of Knowledge promised an increased use of marble to demonstrate wealth and power, but he knew it would be a number of years before Egypt began to utilize the material in places of worship.  

Solomon himself had planted the seed in Thebes, but his current home of Babylon relied primarily on brickl. Even the most impressive temples paled in comparison to the castle looming before him, three stories high and surrounded by deep green flora. Where the Babylonians compensated for detail with size, the demons contracted to erect the King’s abode had outdid themselves with the careful carvings on every visible surface, the elbarotate veins of gold inlaid on the columns and arches. 

Despite the cool midnight breeze of the Devildom, a welcome relief from the scorching sun of the Mediterranean, Solomon felt his skin burn hot on the back of his hands, at the nape of his neck. Anticipation gnawed at his ankles, rendered his knuckles stiff and tight. 

Did he knock? Did he summon Barbatos and…

The lacquered wooden door swung open, the Demon Prince’s newly appointed steward waiting in the doorway. Solomon offered him a cheery smile. Barbatos simply spun on his heel and marched into the building without a word, leaving Solomon to assume that his presence was welcome before the young lord. 

His steps clapping through the ornate hall, all obsidian pillars leading to what had to be some sort of gathering chamber, Solomon rehearsed his greeting to the esteemed Demon Prince. The nerves that pricked his veins were uncommon, Solomon long-versed in meeting with various beings of note, reputation and power. He had shared demonus with the Demon King, had helped slay vampires on the shores of Mesopotamia, had walked through Cocytus to return to the human world. He was the guardian of the Fountain of Knowledge, the Witty Sorcerer! 

And yet, his kneecaps rattled the closer he got to facing the demon who had–someway, somehow–convinced Barbatos to pledge his allegiance. Such a feat spoke of a powerful authority the likes Solomon wasn’t sure he had ever experienced. 

The door at the end of the hall had been left ajar. The sliver of firelight seeping from the room beyond, casting dancing lights upon the ground, was the only invite Solomon supposed he was going to get from Barbatos. Why his old friend was so upset with him, he wasn’t sure, but he figured it would pass eventually. 

Sure enough, he found Barbatos inside the large chamber, steeping tea by a roaring fireplace. A fresh loaf of his signature bread sat on a stone slab by two horns of demonus, and Solomon’s stomach gurgled in anticipation. He was hungrier than he thought, for the noise received a rather judgemental glare from the new Royal Butler. 

Partially in an attempt to avoid the passive ire, Solomon glanced past Barbatos’s busy hands, his attention drawn towards the two large chairs in the center of the room. Ah, he had been correct to assume that he was being summoned to the throne room. 

“Welcome, Solomon.” A large figure stood upon the dias, muscular arms outstretched as if to remind Solomon that he was impeding on the demons’ territory, that this room belonged to the young lord. If it was meant to be a threat, it was extremely successful, for the strength and power emanating from the demon before him was unrefined and wild. Dangerous, even. 

Fangs glinting in the firelight, Diavolo smirked, “Or should I call you The Witty Sorcerer?” 

Solomon wasn’t sure he had ever felt so small. Squaring his shoulders as subtly as possible, Solomon met the Prince of the Devildom’s piercing gold stare. Never once breaking eye contact, he bowed, insisting, “There is no need for formalities. It is an honor to be in your presence, Prince Diavolo. Barbatos has spoken–”

“I was under the impression that he hasn’t spoken to you recently at all,” Diavolo cut him off, his eyebrow lifted towards his hair, as bold as blood oozing around heavy horns decorated in gold. 

“Ah, well…” Solomon cleared his throat, the tremble of his fingers threatening to disrupt his confident facade. “It is true that our relationship has been strained as of late.”

He could hear the slither of Barbatos’s tail lashing from the other side of the room. 

“Indeed,” Diavolo cocked his head, and tapped long, black nails on the bare skin of his bicep as he crossed his arms over his chest. His aura demanded respect, exuding a heavy anticipation that had Solomon on the tips of his toes. The demon prince stepped from the dias, his size even more intimidating in close proximity. “Tell me, Solomon. I require the truth. Please, answer me this…”

“Is it true that you built a wooden boat and filled it with two of each animal?”

Just like that, the demon before him lit up like a child gifted a new toy. Clutching his hands to his chest, Diavolo looked at Solomon with stars in his eyes, gold depths glittering like the sun reflected on the sea. He rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet, any sort of composed image that he had been trying to maintain shattered by the excessive enthusiasm pulling at his lips. “One male, and one female, right? To survive the Great Flood!”

Solomon blinked, glanced at Barbatos for any sort of guidance. All he received in response was a squinted glare, adding further pressure to the situation. 

He settled for grimacing, “That was said to be Ziusudra.”

“Though, the grapevine refers to a man with silver hair,” Diavolo winked.

Solomon’s brain was lagging, struggling to comprehend that the oh, so scary future king of the demons just winked at him. It was quite the contrast to Diavolo’s mouth, which moved a mile a minute, launching question after question towards his guest. At some point, he had marched over to the table by the fire, had plopped down on a stool and beckoned for Solomon to join him in between inquiries on the available materials for such a large boat, to the best way to clean up after living with so many creatures.

Dazed, Solomon took a seat, chancing a glance at Barbatos. The butler’s face was stonier than the very slab at which they sat. 

Next thing he knew, a horn of demonus was thrust into Solomon’s hand, Diavolo beaming at him with such sincerity, it managed to snuff out any lingering fear. “So, which animals were the hardest to wrangle? Do you have dragons? I would imagine they’d put up quite the fight.”

“Ah, no, we don’t have dragons,” Solomon frowned, though the way Diavolo deflated had him adding, “But the hippopotamuses were surprisingly violent. I nearly lost my arm to that old girl.” 

“Oh?” The prince’s enthusiasm returned tenfold, “Is it that easy for a human to lose an arm?”

For the next hour, Solomon sipped at his demonus, savoring the taste in between bites of fresh bread and answers to Diavolo’s endless barrage of questions. The initial threat that Solomon had felt upon entering the room melted into an easy atmosphere of laughter and genuine curiosity. There was something about the way that Diavolo yearned to understand humans that spoke to Solomon. It humanized the demon in a way that he hadn’t expected, the deep loneliness that shined through the desperation to connect a feeling that Solomon knew far too well. 

By the time their meeting had come to a close, Solomon’s confidence had found itself once more. He was sure he had made a powerful ally that he could work with to ensure future protection of the human world.  

“Do you have any questions for me?” Diavolo lowered his horn of demonus, golden eyes peering curiously into Solomon’s soul. Perhaps there was the briefest flash of guilt across his face, though Solomon felt it unwarranted. “Surely there must be knowledge of the Devildom not yet privy to you through the Fountain of Knowledge.”

And Solomon was certain there was, though it pained him to admit that the young prince could not give him what he sought. Quick on his feet, he thought up an alternative. “Hmmm, perhaps not the question you seek, but a question nonetheless.”

He brandished a scroll from thin air, summoned with magic from his home in Babylon. The long roll of papyrus nearly nudged his feet, the list plenty long and only growing. With a grin, Solomon pointed to Diavolo’s name, shining in bolded ink towards the top. “Could I interest you in a pact?” 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

I think it's safe to assume that the Demon Lord's castle has had facelifts throughout the years. Also did you know the first version of the Great Flood is actually in the Sumerian Eridu Genesis?

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

HUGE THANKS TO @shootingstarrfish FOR THE ART FOR THIS <3 <3 <3

[officialrhysandweek]

Prompts ✨ Guidelines ✨ AO3 Collection

-

✍Written Works:

The Most Powerful High Lord Poem by @timesconvert

Lovley Is the Night by @reverie-tales

Better to be Feared by @thecatsaesthetics

We Will Meet Again by @justfeysand

Save Me (Rhysand x Reader) by @clairebear08

Day 3 by @shallyne

My Cup Runeth Over by @adreamof-spring

🎨Art:

the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history comissioned by @separatist-apologist and @the-lonelybarricade from artist lucielart

The Most Powerful High Lord art by @taymartiart

🎶Misc:

Rhysta moodboard by @praetorqueenreyna

Most Powerful High Lord mooboard by @shallyne

-

🎨: davidjbrunson, louisse_ang, and nicolajwilkinson

[milswrites]

To the stars who listen

~Rhysand X Fem!Reader

Summary: Looking upon the stars for the first time since leaving the mountain, Rhysand makes a wish. Only to be surprised when his dreams are actually answered.

Warnings: Mentions of what happened to Rhys under the mountain. (otherwise the only way I could describe this is as fluffy angst?)

Fic for @starfallweek

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star. Character B finds them.

The world was full of dreamers.

Humans, Fae and Faeries alike. The power of the night sky knew no bounds. All were welcome to look up to the heavens and all were able to wish upon the astral beings to their hearts content.

The stars knew nothing of discrimination, shining for all should they only choose to look up.

They were infinite. Unyielding.

Having centuries of experience when it comes to lighting up the night sky.

A patient guide, a willing listener, a teller of stories.

To Rhysand, stars were just as important as the air he breathed.

Which is why he found himself here, on his first night of freedom after escaping the mountain, sat alone on his balcony at the House of Wind. His violet eyes, dulled after half a century of pain by Amarantha's hand, locked onto the sky above him.

Fifty years.

That was how long the High Lord had been deprived from watching the stars. Fifty long years without their comforting presence to whisper to. Unable to share his dreams, his prayers for the future. Hidden from the golden twinkle which told him they heard him, storing away his wishes, holding them safe until they came true.

So here he was, staring longingly at the night sky. Searching his mind for what he wanted to say. Wondering exactly how he would greet them again.

It was a beautiful night for it.

Not a single cloud hovered overhead. Allowing the stars to shimmer brightly in all their majesty. Rhysand couldn't recall a time where he had ever seen the stars gleam with this intensity.

Heart twinging with hope, he imagined their vivid illumination was for him. That it was their way of saying hello to an old friend they had missed. Their way of showing him they were listening.

So Rhysand spoke.

A soft breath from his lips as he whispered to the brightest star in the sky, the reflection of its almighty glory danced in his soulless eyes.

"I wish I felt like me again."

His own eyes watered at his confession, throat turning dry as his mind never failed to stop playing out the horrors of which he had endured under the mountain. Each blink of his eyes brought along the flashes of deep red hair and rouge painted claws.

Rhysand no longer considered himself a dreamer. Not as long as these nightmares plagued his thoughts.

He was a broken man.

A cracked mirror. Only he couldn't figure out how to piece himself back together again. How to move on from the trauma of his past which had settled in his bones.

So he repeated his wish, his words floating into the cool night air like a prayer. Desperate eyes searching the glowing stars, begging for an answer. Begging for some instruction as to how he could move on, how he could be Rhysand again.

But there was nothing.

The stars were silent.

There was no shimmer of acknowledgment. No sign that they had heard the broken call from the male. They stayed unchanging, staring back at him with no acknowledgement of his wish.

Disheartened, Rhysand cast his bitter eyes to the ground. Cursing himself for being so foolish as to believe that the stories his mother used to tell him held truth.

Perhaps that's all they ever were. Just stars. And Rhysand was just the fool who had hoped that they could be something more.

Sullen, he made to move inside. Disappointment welling in his system at the knowledge that sleep most likely won't come to him. That dark-eyed and exhausted tomorrow, he would have to pretend to his family that all was ok. That he was ok.

For one last time he cast his violet eyes back to the sky in despair. Taking turns to stare at each glistening orb. Forcing himself to look for something he no longer believed was there.

Then, just as he was about to give up and retire to his room, there was a flash from the corner of his eyes.

It was only small, the white light which had crept into his vision. But it was definitely there. A streak across the inky black sky. Breaking the darkness as it barreled over Velaris and towards the forest-cloaked mountain in the distance.

Rhysand was driven by pure instinct.

He leapt from the balcony. Large wings growing from his back until they began to powerfully beat against the gravity pulling him down, carrying him upwards towards the mountain. Towards the mysterious light which was still barreling through the sky, gaining momentum as it was moved downwards. Almost appearing as though if it was falling.

This stirred the male to act faster. To urge his wings to close the difference between himself and the light quicker. Beating them and beating them until a dull ache had settled in his muscles.

But he had to get there.

The white light disappeared between the trees, its intense aura had dimmed to a low glow. It's flickering energy enough for Rhysand to still follow the trail as he flew down to the ground in order to land. Curiously threading in-between the tree's as he made his way towards the source.

His eyes squinted as he neared the fallen light, heart pounding as he was able to make out the shape of a figure from inside the glowing orb.

The ethereal being walked towards him as the brightness dimmed, allowing Rhysand to drop the hand which he had lifted to shield his eyes. Though whilst the orb of light had faded, the skin of this otherworldly being still glowed strongly.

"Who are you?" He questioned weakly, unable to don the mask of an all-powerful High-Lord because he knew whoever this was, whatever they were, he would be no match for them.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

Their voice was soft, angelic, as though the words they were speaking came from the melody of a song. The gentle tone reverberated in the quiet forest, clinging to the air as it failed to fully disappear. Hovering closely by like an inextinguishable echo.

"No. . .no. It's impossible. You're not real" his head shook in disbelief, violet eyes wide in shock. There had to be another explanation to this. To who this strange being was.

"You called, Rhysand. So I came."

"But- but how? Am I dreaming?"

An amused smile crossed her face, soft pink lips lifting into a gracious curve, "Is that what you think this is? A dream?"

His brows furrowed as he considered the star's words.

"No" he concluded, heart sinking at his realization, "This is real. I haven't had a dream in fifty years."

"And why is that?" she questioned, her siren's song attempting to draw the words out from his lips, even though Rhysand had the unsettling feeling that she already knew the answer. That she probably already knew everything about him.

The thought of which churned his stomach in an unpleasant way. Had she been able to see everything that happened under the mountain, even though Rhysand couldn't see her? His rising anxiety over this prospect rendered him unable to speak.

"You've asked me who I am," she started attempting to soothe his rising worries by giving him something else to think about, "But who are you Rhysand? You want to feel like you again so badly? Who is that?"

"I. . . I don't know. I don't know who I am" he cried, searching eyes boring into the star's as if her silver orbs would hold the answer that he's looking for. But they remained untelling, instead they only willed him to continue speaking.

"What I do know. . . Is that I'm not the same man who entered that mountain."

Her unwavering smile remained, its presence pouring through Rhysand, relaxing him until it reached his very soul.

"And why do you have to be?" she asked, moving closer to the male so he could absorb some of her calming energy.

"Because it's what's expected of me?" he meant to say it as a statement, make the point that his court and his family were relying on his council now he had returned, yet his words came out more as a question, seeking truth from the empathetic features of the star.

"Expected of you? From your court? From your friends and family? Or is it just yourself telling you that."

She was right of course. Her piercing eyes already knowing the truth about the male before he did. Yet, where he usually would have found it annoying, there was something rejuvenating at the way she was able to understand him.

At the way she was able to peel apart the layers of his swirling thoughts, unstick the pages of the book who made him who he was. Mend the broken edges and the cracked spine. Her words acting as the hands which where smoothing the pages back to normal.

She turned her face to the sky, eyes casting beyond the overhanging canopy to meet the night sky. Silvery eyes lovingly looking upon her family.

"We never stopped waiting for you Rhysand. Fifty years we looked down to that mountain. Waiting for when the day would come that you returned from its depths."

His heart ached sweetly at the knowledge. A sad smile creeping onto his face at the awareness that the stars had longed for his return.

That whilst he had been trapped within the shadows of the mountain thinking of them, they had kept their eyes on his prison, waiting for him to return.

"You're not broken Rhys" she confided, "You're still the same man who went under the mountain, if not an even stronger one. You stared death in the face and you lived. You're here. Allow yourself to feel the pain. Give yourself the time to heal. There is light on the other side."

"But what if I can't find it?" Rhysand worried, "What if I get lost?"

"You never will. We will guide you Rhys, just as we always have."

She began to glow with more ferocity, Rhysand having to squint his eyes once more from the force of the light she emitted. Fear sparking inside his chest at the realization that she was leaving, that her time here was drawing to a close.

"No, you can't go! I need you!" he begged, doing his best to desperately stare into the light so she knew just how serious he was being.

"I'm always there Rhys. I'll watch over you every night, all you have to do is look up."

By this point the sheer brightness of her presence was too overwhelming, Rhysand having to turn around to avoid being blinded. His violet eyes turned to the ground where they locked onto the shadow of his figure. Onto him. Not the fractured male he had assumed crawled out from the mountain. But Rhysand, High Lord of the night court.

"We're always listening Rhysand, and every dream you send to us shall be answered. All you have to do is ask."

The light behind him vanished. Leaving the male standing in the dark solitude of the forest. But he wasn't alone. He knew that now as he turned his glistening eyes to the night sky.

Lips upturned in a peaceful smile.

"Thank you" He whispered gratefully to the stars.

And Rhysand could have sworn that the stars smiled back.

[a-frog-with-a-laptop]

Replacement

Azriel X Reader

This is my go at the prompt "Character A was so happy planning the perfect starfall party. They forgot to get a date. Character B has an idea." for @starfallweek.

Can't wait to read what everyone came up with!

Might write more of these two. Not sure. If people want more i will

~~~

She’d been planning this for weeks. Y/N had always loved Starfall and the joy she gets from spending time with her family no matter how tired she gets afterwards so when she finally moved out and was able to plan the parties herself she went all out. This year was her first time planning for her husband's family.

Y/N and the night court’s shadowsinger, Azriel, had married earlier that year and she’d made a promise to herself to plan that year's starfall party to give the Highlord time to spend time with his family and take a break after all he did for her. He helped her family get back on their feet after the war, and fully paid for the wedding and, her and Azriels new house. That proved to be a very good idea.

Y/N had somehow convinced the high lord and lady to take a week off leading up to the holiday giving her plenty of time to plan a surprise party without them and the only way for it to be successful was if they were gone. Y/N had realised pretty quickly how much of a busybody the high lord was.

She had to tell the rest of his family about the plan but couldn’t do that while he was getting suspicious of everyone sneaking around so she dropped hints of a holiday in his head. Even though he was the most powerful high lord he didn’t seem to be the smartest so she turned to his wife the highlady and straight up told her to take her husband and child on a holiday.

~~~

Y/N was out of breath after running up a street and then stairs to catch up to her highlady who was now walking only a few metres in front of her. She pushed a stroller which most likely carried the young night court heir. “Feyre.” Y/N more puffed than yelled out.

Feyre spun around quickly in response, gasping when seeing Azriel's new wife bent over puffing her lungs out. “Y/N are you okay? Should I call for Azriel?”

Y/N put a hand up. “No-” she breathed a deeper breath before standing “-I just ran like 5 blocks to find you but you walk so damn fast.”

“You had to run to catch up to me?” Feyre raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.Y/N shushed her, “You know what I mean”

Feyre chuckled a light and airy sound. “Well, what did you need?”

“I’ve been trying to convince your mate, Rhysand-” Feyre giggled again at Y/N’s clarification “-to take you and Nyx on a holiday but it seems that he is thicker than Cassian’s biceps and can't get the hint.”

“So you want me to take him?”

Y/N nodded slowly.

“Why?”

“I’m trying to plan a Starfall party so he can take a break in thanks for everything he did for me but I can't get help when he’s such a busybody.”

Feyre laughed again before agreeing allowing Y/N to run straight back home to start properly preparing.

~~~

Now it was the day before Starfall and everything was ready. Well, almost ready. Y/N had realised that neither she nor Azriel had formally asked each other to be the other's date as they had done since before they even started dating. It was technically now a yearly tradition between the two and she wasn't going to break it this year. But even though she wanted to keep the formality they held in earlier years she was too tired to plan anything else.

Y/N had planned non-stop for the past week and that was exhausting. Rhysand, Feyre and Nyx got back from their holiday earlier that day so everyone in the inner circle was walking on glass around the highlord hoping he didn’t mention his own party or even Starfall itself.

Y/N finally convinced herself that the not-tradition tradition she’d created with her husband was worth continuing and set down her book before starting her search for the elusive male. She looked around upstairs in the bedroom, study, and bathroom(hoping to find an undressed shadow singer) before making her way downstairs. Walking into the foyer she stuck her head into the lounge room to see a large bat wing popping up from the lounge.

She winced internally, knowing Azriel was lying on his back and thinking of how uncomfortable it would be for him.

“Az?” Y/N whispered incase he was asleep. His head popped up over the back of the lounge and she smiled at his mussed-up hair and droopy eyes, clearly indicating that he had previously been asleep.

“Yeah?” Azriel muttered in a sleep-ridden voice before rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. Even after just waking up, he was gorgeous.

“I kind of assumed we would since you know-” Y/N shrugged “-we are married, but will you be my date to the Starfall party?”

Azriel woke up instantly at that sentence before pulling a face like he sucked on a lemon. Y/N’s face dropped along with her stomach. She immediately started thinking of what he did to have that reaction. What did he do?

Azriel noticed his wife’s distress immediately and sat up more ready to jump over the lounge in case he needed to do some quick damage control. “Sorry. Im going with Cassian.”

Y/N’s face blanked as she reeled back. Her mouth opened and then shut. Before opening again she tilted her head to the side and furled her eyebrows in thought. “Why?”

“Well you see, Cassian can't go with Nesta because she is going with Gwyn.” Azriel started explaining. He realised it wasn’t enough of an explanation before continuing. “Nesta is going with Gwyn because Emerie is going with Mor.”

That was enough of an explanation for his wife because her bewildered look turned to one of thought.

“Oh,” Y/N turned to walk away. “Okay.”

“Sorry!” Azriel called out with a wince on his face.

~~~

It was now Starfall and people filled every inch of the inside of the home and the back garden.

Y/N had invited everyone from Azriel's side of the family that he liked and she invited all from her side of the family who in return invited more people resulting in Y/N being stopped by every second person who claimed to be a distant relative of hers. But she didn't listen to what they had to say. She was too stressed by the fact that Rhysand, Feyre and Nyx hadn’t shown up yet. 

Additionally, the sight of Cassian pulling her husband into a dip and kissing him passionately had set her on edge. She’d almost shatter the glass she was holding from anger. Y/N knew it was all a joke but there was this nagging feeling creeping up her spine which could only be described as murderous when watching Cassian and Azriel put on this happy couple act for the joke they had going.

Y/N moved throughout the house towards the front door and pushed her way outside to sit on the front porch to wait for the high lord and lady.

Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long for they arrived almost as soon as she sat down and she stood to greet them quickly.

“Rhysand, Feyre. Welcome back to Velaris.” Y/N smiled broadly as she hugged the couple before turning to Nyx. “Welcome back too little soldier.”

“We are grateful to be back.” Rhysand chuckled.

“And grateful for you to have organised and sent us on that trip.” Feyre added nudging her husband and mate.”

Suddenly everything turned serious as Y/N looked at the two parents.

“I need your child for something.”

~~~

The musicians hired quickly turned up the tempo of the party after the show of stars and everyone started dancing. Azriel had been searching for Y/N for a while now, wondering where she had gone. He was filled with concern and anxiety that something must have gone wrong. So much that he broke the little joke he and Cassian had going on to voice his concerns to the other male.

Azriel kept looking around the backyard hoping to see Y/N somewhere and slowly started slinking into himself when his searching failed until Cassian roughly jabbed him in the arm.

Azriel's head snapped to face Cassian but the other male just pointed to the makeshift dance floor.

Azriel looked and saw his wife carefully dancing around with a little bundle in her arms and relief filled his body. He smiled at her happiness and took the few minutes the song took to admire her.

When the song finished she looked back up to him and smiled a big toothy grin. Azriel followed it with a grin of his own as she started a walk over.

“So Y/N,” Cassian started, “who's your date for tonight.”

Y/N glared at the male before smiling at the now-moving lump in her arms. 

“Nyx needed someone to go with so I volunteered.” She smiled back down at the young fae looking up at her in her arms.

“Well, I’ll say that you make a wonderful couple.” Cassian mocked.

“Why thank you, my lord.” Y/N mocked back with a slight curtsy. “Now if you’ll excuse me my date and I must go to bed.”

Azriel watched as Y/N walked off inside the house, Cassian’s teasing of replacement flying straight over his head until an older fae female walked up to them.

One Azriel recognised from his wedding.

“So when are we recreating that image with my grandchild Azriel?” His mother-in-law asked expectantly.

[ripdragonbeans]

To Whatever End // HighLord!Aemond x Mate!Reader

For @targaryen-dynasty's February Sleepover!

Btw if you can't tell it's an A Court of Thorns and Roses AU but also this is fanfic

Thank you @exitpursuedbyavulcan for being my beta! ❤️

Prompts: "I just want to please you" // "let me take care of you"

Summary: High Lord Aemond traded himself for his Court to keep those he loved safe. In giving himself, however, he found himself bound to the witch Alys Rivers and committed atrocities to the other Courts. But it's been too long. Much too long. Aemond's mate, his true love, takes fate into her own hands and goes to free him. To whatever end.

CW: blood, character death, smut, consensual kidnapping???, oral f and m receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, 3rd person

Long silver-blond hair. A violet eye. A sapphire in place of the other. Expert swordsman. Magic wielder. Cruel but loyal. Wingspan like no other. Aemond Targaryen, High Lord of the Night Court.

Aemond Targaryen loved his Court. He would do anything and everything to keep it safe, including offering all of himself to a witch. This witch, Alys Rivers, had him on a tight leash. Very rarely was he able to do what he wished. Very rarely was he able to visit his mother, brother, or sister. Worst of all, he was forbidden to see his mate.

His mate, how he loved her so. When the mating bond clicked into place for them it made everything right. Alys Rivers, however, yanked him back as far as she could. She claimed that if he ever tried to go back to his mate she would destroy her and his precious Night Court. So, she kept him at her side; forced him to execute any innocent who dared look at her. Used his magic to raise hell on every other Court but his. The other High Lords thought Aemond to be a lover to Alys. They believed he warmed her bed to have power over them all. Little did they know that was as far from the truth as possible.

Years went by. Then decades. Then centuries. Aemond could stand it no longer. He was wearing down in the most terrible of ways. His resolve was breaking, he was becoming numb, he was beginning to forget his mate, his family, his Court. Every now and then Alys would try to lay with him. She knew forcing him would do nothing, but to make him desperate enough to be with her would break him. She was close to this, too. Her seductive ways had been beating down on him. He was desperate to get out, he was in pain, he felt guilty for even having those thoughts about Alys.

His mate. He needed his mate.

She could feel anguish, his pain, through the bond. It was enough. It had been long enough, too long, she thought. Tonight, she would bring her mate home and destroy Alys.

As she made her way through the halls of the House of Dreams, all she could think of was Aemond. They could never talk through their bond; Alys was able to block that part. The occasional tug from either of them was all that they had to keep them together. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts of Aemond that she walked straight into Helaena, Aemond’s sister.

“Thank the gods I found you!” Helaena sighed in relief. “We just received word that Alys attacked the Winter Court. Apparently, it was out of pure amusement.” The bite in her voice was evident.

“Aemond! Was he -”

“Cregan Stark reported that Aemond was there,” her voice faded down to a whisper, “punishing those who were captured instead of killed.”

The sister’s friend closed her eyes in pain and whispered her mate’s name.

“Helaena, I'm getting him back. We are ridding Westeros of Alys and bringing him back home.”

“When do you go?”

“I am going now. Wish me luck, friend.”

“Wait!” Helaena grabbed her arm. “There are rumors of the Winter Court planning to fight back against Alys; that is why they were targeted.” She looked directly into her eyes. “Destroy her.”

Much like her mate, she had wings. Not as beautiful as Aemond’s and not nearly as big, but big enough to fly her way to the Winter Court. The journey there was long and grueling. She tried to take no breaks and the ones that she did were brief and out of pure necessity. As she got closer to the court, she could feel the mating bond grown in strength. Yes, Aemond was always near to Alys in the Court of Nightmares, but with her focusing on the attack, her magic against the bond has weakened.

She followed that bond, followed it all the way to the Winter Court Palace. It was there she found Aemond, kneeling beside Alys as she sat on a throne, like a dog.

“Look what we have here, Aemond.” She looked the mate up and down. “I thought I told you that if she came here or you to her that I would kill her and all that you hold dear.”

Aemond made eye contact with you. He was pleading for her to leave, to be safe.

The mate said, “No. I'm not leaving you.”

Alys chuckled. “A fight you wish, then? A fight you shall get.”

“I've always been ready to fight you, ever since you took Aemond away from me.”

“Oh, but you won't be fighting me. You'll be fighting my dear pet.” She gestured towards Aemond.

Fear and denial slid over her body like ice. No.

“I refuse to fight him.”

“You see, your refusal would be accepted but our dear Aemond here made another bargain with me.” Indeed, along with the mating bond tattoo there was a new one. One that held him to his word. He believed you wouldn't try to reach him, so he vowed to fight you if you ever showed up as payment of me keeping the Night Court and the other Solar Courts safe.” Her laugh was nails scraping against rocks.

Aemond slowly rose and unsheathed his sword. Every move was painful. He tried to resist but it was futile.

He whispered to his love, “Please, leave. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“You have already hurt me by believing I would not come to you.” She let the pain shine in her eyes. “But I forgive you, Aemond. I love you.” And she drew her own sword.

“Ah, but to make it interesting,” Alys chimed in. “I will release him from his bargains should either of you deliver a devastating blow on the other.”

Hatred coursed through her veins. “You are vile,” she spat.

“That was not part of the bargain!” Aemond yelled.

Alys laughed. “It may not be, but it will still be amusing.”

His love turned to him. “I love you, but if this is what must happen, so be it.”

Aemond slowly raised his sword and readied himself to fight his mate. Just one devastating blow, that would be it. They could be free.

Their fight was a dance. Twirling to block, lunging to attack. Sweeping up into the sky to avoid. Sweat poured down their bodies. The muscles in their backs screamed with pain and exhaustion as they were constantly in the air. It was all they could to not hurt each other. However, while in the air, away from Alys’ prying ears, they made a plan.

Eventually Aemond found his sword against her throat. He pressed against her until pebbles of blood formed. The bond shook.

“I have her and I have drawn blood,” he called to Alys. “Free me, and free her, and free the Courts.”

Alys tutted. “I said a devastating blow, not a threatening one.”

Aemond’s mate looked to Alys then back to him. He whispered to her, “Now.”

She removed the sword from her neck, ignoring the slicing pain as she slid her hand to the hilt and threw it, aimed perfectly at Alys’. Practiced in magic, however, she deflected it with ease.

“How rude! Attacking a spectator!” She glided towards her. “And now you must pay the price.”

“No, you shall.”

Aemond had retrieved his sword to plunge it through Alys’ neck. He mustered all his strength and poured the magic that she had transferred to him when she was against his sword, as well as his, into the attack and sliced Alys’ head clean off. It fell to the ground with a thud.

Black blood erupted from the body, drenching her and Aemond.

Aemond could only look at his mate. “We did it,” he breathed. “She's gone and all the Courts are free.”

“Yes, we are free.”

Aemond took a step. Then another. Then another. Until he was right in front of her. He gently cradled her face with his blood-soaked hands and brought his lips to hers.

“I thought I would never see you again,” she said against him.

He pulled away. “I must tell you more, I never stopped believing in you. But we must inform Cregan that we are all free.”

Back-to-back the couple cut down and remaining soldiers loyal to Alys until they found Cregan in his own battle. The three of them were quick to overpower the opponents.

Cregan turned to Aemond, the fact that he was standing before him without Alys trailing him hit him hard.

“Is she,” he could not bring himself to ask the full question, lest the answer be unsavory.

“She is gone,” Aemond claimed. He opened his wings to their full length. “She is gone, and we are all free.”

Together, Aemond, his mate, and Cregan announced to the Winter Court that Alys was no more.

“We shall rebuild to be stronger,” Cregan said to his people. He turned to Aemond. “We shall unite.”

Aemond’s mate replied for him, “And together we shall rise above the ashes.”

Once the theatrics were over, the two lovers flew back to the Night Court. While they took limited breaks, they stopped right before arriving at the House of Dreams.

Wings tucked in, they arrived at an inn, Rita's, and found a room.

As soon as the door closed behind them Aemond’s lips were on hers. They danced together as though they were never apart. But their hands wandered as though they were strangers.

He slowly slipped her flying leathers off her beautiful body, taking in every inch of her. Every curve, every scar. He crawled up her body and brushed a hand over the now healed scar that branded her neck. Her body stiffened but in pleasure rather than fear. His touch was gentle, sensual.

“Don't worry,” he said, “I’ll take care of you.” And he kissed her gently.

He pulled away and kissed down her body, paying extra attention to the junction between her neck and shoulder, biting it then soothing it with his tongue.

She extended her neck, wanting more. “Please, my love,” she begged.

Aemond smirked against her and continued his way down her body until he came to her chest.

“Gods, I've missed these beautiful tits.”

He was quick to take a hardened bud into his mouth to tease and lick. Her back arched, wanting, needing, more. His hand slid up her body to play with the other nipple, tweaking and flicking it. All she could do was moan.

He switched, giving the other the same treatment with his mouth. She could feel the coil in her stomach tighten. When he was satisfied with her panting, he continued his journey down her body. He stopped at the apex of her thighs. He looked in awe as he gently stroked her folds.

“Aemond -”

He shushed her. “I just want to please you.”

Aemond tentatively brushed her bundle of nerves and watched as she writhed at her touch.

She looked at him, desperate to see him, only to find a devious smirk on his lips.

“Look at you, so wet for me already. Have you missed me that much?” He taunted.

“Yes, of course I've missed - gods!”

His mouth was upon her, his nose rubbing against her as he feasted upon her. All she could feel was him. All that mattered was him. She closed her eyes in ecstacy as the coil within her threatened to snap.

“Aemond I'm going -” she was cut short by her own wordless scream. A wave of pleasure crashed down upon her.

Aemond, however, kept feasting on her. He did not want to stop. She tasted divine and he needed more. Her hips bucked up with each lick. The pressure of pleasure began to build up again. He then moved to suck on her bud and plunged two fingers into her wet heat. The change itself was enough to bring her over the edge again. Only then did Aemond lift his head up. Her slick coating his mouth. She reached for him and kissed him deeply.

“Now it is my turn.” She nipped at his ear.

She stripped him of his clothes and ran her hands all over his body. Up and down her hands went, taking it all in, until she got to his length.

It had been so long since she had seen it; she forgot how big and thick he was. He was already hard and his tip was red and weeping. As she ran her hand over his cock he bucked his hips up, racing for more.

His love obliged by sinking down and taking him into her mouth. He groaned as she began to bob her head up and down, tongue swirling around.

“Fuck, my love!”

She hummed in response, earning another groan from him. She could feel he was close and was ready to take his seed, but he pulled out.

Aemond pulled her into a searing kiss. “I am going to finish in you. Not in your mouth but in your hot, wet cunt.”

His language sent a thrill down her spine.

“Face down, ass up,” he ordered.

She complied, excited for what was to come next.

She felt him shuffle behind her. In one swift motion he sheathed himself fully inside her. They both moaned at the feeling of the other. Taking their time, they just stayed there like that.

Until Aemond began moving his hips.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he ground out.

He picked up speed, fucking her into the mattress. She moved along with him, wanting him to be as deep as possible within her.

Aemond’s thrusts soon became sloppy, his rhythm uneven. With each motion of his cock her pleasure began to crest.

“Aemond, please I'm going to -”

“Together. I want us to finish together.”

With one final thrust, she screamed as she tightened around him, triggering his own orgasm.

They collapsed on the bed, his cock still inside her. Together they stayed there until Aemond pushed himself up to grab a wet rag to clean them up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping his wings around her.

I am yours and you are mine, Aemond sent down the bond.

To whatever end, my love, she sent back.

She pulled him down into another searing kiss, this one promising that they would not be separated again.

[clockwork-ashes]

Of Fire and Poison - Part I

Read on Ao3

Summary: Prompted by one of Elain Archeron’s visions, the Night Court decides it’s time to remove Beron Vanserra from Autumn’s throne. Azriel must learn to tolerate being in the presence of his oldest enemy, but he comes to find that spending time with Eris is not what he expected.

Note: My first time writing a multi-chapter azris fic!!! I’m very excited about it, so thank you for reading <3

Tag list: @the-darkestminds / @secret-third-thing /

Azriel’s shadows whirled around him, dancing in time to the low music that seemed to float in an eerie echo from the ballroom. The howl of the string instruments rose and fell like waves against the shore, creating an effect that inspired even the most unwilling of guests to participate in a waltz. 

Azriel had always found it captivating, but even his undivided attention remained on the strained interaction between his brother and the heir to the Autumn Court. 

The High Lord of Night walked with a feline grace, maintaining his carefully crafted role while in the confines of the Hewn City. He offered his spymaster a subtle nod as he approached, stopping just in front of the carved wooden doors of the large room. 

Azriel inched towards him, protecting his brother’s back and using his own body as a way to block the entrance. 

Careful. 

The one word scraped against the iron wards of his mind and Azriel had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. 

Rhysand ignored Azriel, speaking to Eris just as his hand came up to grip the silver doorknob. He didn’t look back at the other male, but without a doubt, his brow was arched and his chin was tilted in question. “I trust you’ll behave,” he drawled. There was a warning in the tone that only Azriel seemed to recognise. 

Eris shrugged even though Rhysand couldn’t see the gesture. It was a smooth lift of his shoulders, the expensive fabric of his jacket pulling with the movement. “I make no promises,” he said, voice rich as whiskey. 

No more words were exchanged as Rhysand swept through the doors, shutting them behind him with a soft click, the lock falling into place shortly after. Eris scrunched his nose, most likely annoyed at the lack of faith 

Azriel was expressionless, waiting in a silent battle of wills to see if Eris would be the first to break the silence. 

Eris traced the rim of his wine glass with an elegant finger, golden rings flashing. He seemed to wait until Rhysand’s footsteps faded completely and the only sound that lingered between them was the orchestra’s haunting music. A vicious scowl tugged at his full mouth, familiar. 

Azriel watched, observing the way his shadows twisted and spun eagerly at the prince of Autumn’s booted heels. He kept his arms crossed over his chest and his wings tucked close to his back, silently conveying his confusion at their strange behaviour. 

Eris seemed content to pretend that the shadows weren’t even there, treating them as if they were nothing more than a gentle wind. “You have nothing to add?” He asked, snorting in a way that was unbecoming of a male in his position when Azriel didn’t respond. He lifted his glass, the muscles in his throat working as he drained its contents. Red curls kissed at the sharp cut of his jaw, striking against the bone white pallor of his skin. 

Lips stained crimson, Eris licked at the wine. Azriel watched the slow path of the other male’s tongue, forcefully dragging his gaze upwards to meet clever amber eyes. The torches in the small space flared, and his shadows scattered at the brightness. 

Eris raised an auburn brow, a knowing expression falling over his sharp features. Flames flickered, and the scarlet of his hair shifted so that it looked wine dark. “You’re going to help me kill my father.” 

Azriel frowned at the ease with which Eris declared his plans, no remorse in the steadiness of his voice. It was enough to make him uncomfortable, being spoken to so directly. “My High Lady wants Beron to be stripped of his power.” 

Like the woven sounds of streams and breezes, Autumn shifts to Winter. 

Of fire and poison, dry leaves rustle when a king falls.

The cold earth sleeps, and the breath of night flows like death. 

Azriel didn’t add that it was one of Elain’s visions that had prompted the Inner Circle’s urgency. 

“She believes I’ll be a pawn, easy to control?” The way Eris asked his question revealed no bitterness, simply interest. 

It took Azriel a moment to remember they’d been speaking about Feyre. “She believes you have Prythian’s best interests in mind.” 

Eris scoffed, tilting his head like a wolf, predatory. “And so the Night Court only upholds their end of our bargain when it best suits them?” 

“Be grateful, prince.” Azriel couldn’t help the rough growl that escaped along with the words, but Eris didn’t seem too bothered by the obvious disrespect. 

Azriel watched as the other male tilted his glass, glancing into its empty depths briefly. The diamonds along the arch of his ear sparkled like stars in an evening sky as he placed the glass onto the ancient table that separated them. 

Eris dipped at the waist in a mocking bow, holding Azriel’s gaze as he spoke, his words meant to be a taunt. “I expect you’ll be the one coming for me.” 

Azriel nodded once, feeling his face heat at the comment. “I’ll find you so we can work out the specifics.”  

Eris winnowed from the room without answering, nothing but embers remaining in his wake. Shadows whirled in the empty space where the prince had just been, and Azriel was left with the impression that they hoped to see him again.