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I Can't Pretend | Eris x Reader

summary: After your sudden disappearance, Eris takes it upon himself to find you. When he does, he breaks down and can no longer hide his feelings for you.

warning: angst, suggestiveness, smut (p in v, loss of virginity); this one is kind of a rollercoaster of emotions and the longest imagine of this series (at 6K words)

a/n: you can find the masterlist to this series here or read this as a stand alone imagine (: all you have to know is that reader is engaged to Eris's brother and in the part right before this one, reader and Sawyer got threatened by Beron. this piece here is brought to you by Tom Odell's Can't Pretend.

“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”

“You just marked your death sentence.”

Your body grows cold, muscles tensing once again. The tears running down your face feel endless as you stare at the door closing behind the High Lord. When it finally shuts, the sound feels like a sentence in itself, locking you into those promises. Bedding ceremony. Death sentence. The words repeat themselves over and over inside your head like a haunting melody.

You’re going to be watched as you're forced to be intimate with Sawyer. Then, you’re going to die. You want to run…but where to?

A whimper drags you from your thoughts, directing your attention back to the male lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Your fate is sealed and cannot be helped. But you can at least help him.

You hardly recognize him as you kneel beside him and help him sit up. Blood trickles from his face and every exposed inch of his pale skin is littered with open wounds that make bile rise in your throat. You can also sense all the broken bones in his body, something urging you inside to mend them.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, unable to hide the tremor in your voice and your hands. Slowly, you bring your hands to his face, grimacing at the lack of warmth.

A choked, rattled sound escapes from Sawyer. He instinctively leans in to your touch, welcoming the surprising wave of relief that comes with it. It’s as if something deep inside you is calling to him, telling him that you can fix him.

“Did you…did you mean it?” He croaks out.

You don’t have to ask to know what he means. “Yes.”

Sawyer’s pained expression softens for a brief moment. “Sometimes…” he begins and as you blink away your tears, you catch the way he averts his gaze, focusing on the splatters of his own blood that taint the marble floor. “Sometimes, I wish the Cauldron had made me different too...”

“The Cauldron makes no mistakes,” you assure him, your voice steadying with every breath. “It doesn't matter who you love. All that matters is that you love strongly and freely. I sense you have a good heart…which I’m coming to find is a rare thing in a place like this.”

“I thought I was an asshole.” There’s a subtle hint of regret in his tone.

“Yes,” you say with a small exhale. “I’m afraid that you still are… An asshole with a good heart.”

And for the first time since you met him, a faint ghost of a smile graces Sawyer's lips as he looks back at you.

You continue to help heal Sawyer, the same way you’ve done for others in the past. The cuts on his face close as your fingers brush against them, the swelling of his face goes down and the broken bones begin to mend. It’s like a miracle. There’s no trace of any injury left behind other than the blood that has not yet dried.

It’s strange for it to be quiet between you both. You’ve grown accustomed to the insults thrown your way in his presence and even the look of disgust that usually mars his features when looking at you. But all you see is the bewilderment in his face.

As the weight of silence threatens to consume you, you find yourself humming to deter the thoughts lingering in your mind. It’s a familiar melody, one your mother would gently sing whenever your injuries and the sickness that would often befall you begged for relief. Just as it did in those tender moments, the melody you hum washes over you, bringing an immediate sense of comfort.

The warmth returns to your veins and Sawyer, too, senses the soothing energy as it radiates from your touch. His sharp aches dulls into a distant memory. “I didn’t know you were a healer,” he says quietly and then realizes how little he knows about you. He has an inkling that his older brother knows more. “Are you from Dawn Court?”

“My mother was. I think I inherited it from her side,” you reply, helping him to his feet.

As the two of you stand, the door slams open, causing you to involuntary flinch. To your relief, it is Lady Raelynn and not her fearsome husband. Her breaths are quick and shallow and eyes full of concern.

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” she breathes, rushing toward her son. She assesses him for injuries, not caring over the blood that stains her hands as she softly touches his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The healer is already waiting in my quarters and I’ve had my maid prepare some tea to soothe your ails.”

The way she speaks leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach, as it gives away that situations such as this occur with such frequency. Lady Raelynn then turns to you, gaze dipping down toward your hands. They’re stained with Sawyer’s blood. “The both of you,” she adds as emphasis.

Her hand reaches for yours but you take a step back, suddenly feeling sick. She had already included you in the disconcerting routine. The urge to run comes over you again as Beron’s words resurface in your mind. Is this what your life will become? A routine of suffering and torture until death harshly claims you.

“I’m okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. It’s a lie and you all know it but they don’t push you further. They share a glance filled with understanding, deepening your revulsion. You think you’re going to throw up. “I–I think I need to rest.”

“Of course,” Lady Raelynn nods, a deep frown settling upon her face. “Please allow one of my maids to escort you back to your room.”

Eris has grown to know fear over the centuries. It held him in its grip, bringing forth tears and whispering sweet nightmares into his ears until there was no trace of hope left behind. But this feeling surging through his veins and creeping into his heart is much, much worse. Like a fear he’s never known before.

You’re not in your room. You’re not in the gardens. You’re not in the library.

All air has left his lungs and he feels like he can’t breathe until he finds you. There’s one more place within the Forest house he’s yet to check. He’s racing toward it, his pace reflecting the erratic rhythm of his heart. He knows he should tread carefully but you’re flooding him with your emotions through the bond, pushing away all rational thoughts from his mind.

The doors to Lady Raelynn’s quarters slam open. His eyes are drinking in the room like a man deprived of water, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Y/n,” your name is spilling from his lips in a choked breath. “Where is she?”

His gaze lands upon Sawyer, who sits on the couch and then to his mother, who sits right next to him. You’re not here either. His heightened senses take in the bloody cloth in his mother’s hands–not your blood–and then, the somber expression on Sawyer’s face. Across from them, three teacups rest on the small table, the faint scent of chamomile wafting over to him.

Suddenly, Eris is livid. His gaze darkens and he’s rushing toward his younger brother. Hands roughly grasp onto the front of Sawyer’s shirt, forcing the younger male to rise to his feet. Flames tickle around his throat, tightening with every second.

“What did you do?” Eris seethes. It’s more of a demand than a question.

“Eris!”

“Answer me,” Eris nearly growls, his eyes mirroring the flames tightening around Sawyer’s neck. “Or I swear to the Cauldron, I’ll–”

“Eris!” His mother calls out again.

This time, she’s successful. She steps in between her sons, a hand at Eris’s chest and she can feel the frantic beating of his heart. The flames around Sawyer’s throat loosen their grip but only a little.

“Your brother has endured enough blows today.”

“He looks perfectly fine to me,” Eris retorts, amber eyes taking note of the lack of injuries on him. Despite his mother’s words, he’s inclined to give him one. One that will remain and act as a reminder to never cross him. He already knows that whatever happened, was Sawyer’s fault.

“Yes,” Lady Raelynn begins, voice heavy with caution. She knows Eris will find out what happened one way or another and though it fills her with dread to be the harbinger of bad news, she rather her son hear it from her. “Because y/n healed him.”

The sound of your name brings Eris back down and the flames around Sawyer’s throat extinguish. He looks at his mother, silently urging her to go on.

“Your father caught the ear of the rumors circulating in court and well…well, he called for a bedding ceremony.”

Sawyer swallows thickly at the reminder. He casts his head down, overwhelmed by Eris’s heated gaze that is directly solely on him now. A realization hits him then and slowly, he lifts his head. “You care for her, don’t you? All this time…,” his voice trails off.

Eris falters. He shakes his head, a mix of horror and panic tainting his delicate features. “I told you–”

“Then you should know,” Sawyer interrupts him, lips pressing into a tight line before speaking again. “Father plans to kill her after the wedding.”

Flames erupt from Eris’s fingertips, itching to wrap around Sawyer’s throat once more. He warned his brother not to be a fool. To be more careful because this was not just a matter of life or death for Sawyer but for you as well. Eris just needed more time to help you and he fears Sawyer just deprived him of it.

A firm push from Lady Raelynn stops him from raising his hands. “Eris, your brother is not the enemy,” she reminds him, tone pleading with him to hear her. “Y/n is in her room. Go to her. She needs you.”

Eris's fiery temper flickers, dissolving into the familiar grip of anxiety that had driven him to this chamber. He takes a step back and Lady Raelynn’s hand drops back to her side. “She’s not in her room.”

It’s now Lady Raelynn’s turn to panic. “What do you mean she isn’t? My maid personally escorted her there. She even helped draw her a bath.”

“She’s gone.”

Sawyer lets a curse under his breath, a shiver running down his spine. “One more mishap,” he murmurs, fear swirling in his eyes. He falls onto the couch, sinking into the cushion with dread. “One more mishap and father warned…,” his eyebrows furrow, not being able to finish the threat Beron had made to the both of you and Eris feels his heart at his throat.

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Lady Raelynn speaks but it does nothing to reassure Eris.

“When I bring her back,” Eris says, voice steady with determination because he will find you. He takes another step back, toward the doors. One hand grasps for the knob while the other points a finger at Sawyer. “Then, I’ll deal with you.”

Sawyer says nothing but Lady Raelynn nods, urging him to go. “We’ll cover for you,” she assures him. “Please be careful.”

Eris leaves without another word, the doors closing shut behind him.

“He loves her.” Sawyer's words are tinged with sympathy and bitter amusement. A humorless chuckle escapes from him and he looks toward his mother. Her gaze remains fixed on the doors of her room, where Eris had left just moments ago, as she gives a silent prayer to the Cauldron.

“Are we cursed? To love those we cannot have?”

“I’m afraid you all have inherited it from me,” Lady Raelynn confesses softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken longing, clouding her eyes with regret and sorrow.

Leaves crunch beneath Eris's boots as he makes his way toward the stables, the crisp autumn air biting at his cheeks. His face dons his usual mask but his heart is still racing. He would much rather take his hounds in his quest to find you but the risk of raising suspicion held him back. It’s not uncommon for him to ride during these hours of the day and it’d give him a better vantage on covering as much ground as he can as opposed to winnowing.

The sound of a high-pitched whinny echoes through the air as Eris approaches, drawing his attention. His gaze settles upon the stablemen, their focus fixed upon a solitary stall.

“Lord Eris,” one of them greets, bowing his head in respect. “Do you wish to ride? I can ready your horse. Just give me a moment.”

Eris offers no response as he strides purposefully toward the stablemen, his curiosity piqued by the source of the anxious sounds. The stableman follows his gaze, his expression troubled. It’s your horse, Maximus. The white stallion throws his head back, pawing at the ground with such force that the dirt rises in swirling clouds.

“He’s been restless all morning, my Lord.”

“I’ll take him,” Eris finally speaks, his gaze lingering on the horse. From where he stands,he can sense the tension rippling through Maximus’s powerful frame. It reminds him of the way his hounds act when they sense something is wrong. “Perhaps, a ride will soothe him.”

The stableman’s eyes widen in alarm. “I would advise against it, Lord Eris. This one has a temper that only Lady Y/n can soothe. He’s bitten us before.”

Eris lets out a quiet amused huff, undeterred. “I’ll saddle him myself,” he says and it’s as if your horse understands for it tilts his head to look directly at Eris, a silent exchange passing between them.

The stableman simply nods, reluctantly handing the necessary equipment to prepare your horse. As Eris steps into the stall, Maximus steps back with a deep and heavy exhale. “It’s okay. I’m y/n’s…y/n’s friend,” Eris reassures though the word ‘friend’ rolls off his tongue awkwardly.

As he utters your name, Maximus's body relaxes slightly, mirroring the calm that had settled over Eris earlier in his mother’s quarters. He admires the way Maximus’s eyes soften slightly, betraying his deep love for you. Animals are the true definition of unconditional love, he thinks. However, there’s a flicker of doubt in the horse's eyes at the mention of the word "friend," as if he could sense something more. It makes Eris wonder if your horse can see past the glamor he meticulously placed over himself and you.

Maximus doesn’t move when Eris takes another step forward. He pats his neck softly, running his fingers down the silky white strands of Maximus’s mane. The white stallion’s head lowers and ears relax under the gentle touch.

“Can you take me to her?”

Maximus taps one of his hooves in response and Eris smiles.

Eris can feel your bond growing stronger and stronger as Maximus gallops, taking both of them deeper into Autumn’s forest. Around them, trees adorned with golden leaves blur into a whirl of color. The sound of thundering hooves fills the air. He pulls on the reins and the white stallion immediately obeys, coming to a gradual stop.

“Stay here.” Eris commands as he dismounts.

Maximus lets out a noise in protest but does not fight when Eris secures him to a nearby tree. He looks around the forest, allowing his senses to guide him through the labyrinth of trees. He feels a sharp tug against his ribcage, prompting his head to turn right. How did he not think of it sooner?

Eris quietly makes his way toward the clearing ahead, where the meadow he often frequents is. The canopy of the tall oak trees filter the golden sunlight into a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. A kaleidoscope of wildflowers blooms along the edges, their petals kissed by the wind. His senses sharpen with anticipation. It’s as if a taut string is pulling him inexorably closer to you.

He’s flooded with relief when he finally spots you but it is short lived as he takes in your appearance. Relief is quickly replaced by a terrible sinking feeling that he feels in his very core.

The river is a distant murmur as you face it, your back to him. The shifting patterns of light and shadow play across your form, casting you in muted hues. You’re dressed in his clothes, the same ones he had given you when the two of you snuck out. The ruffled long sleeves do nothing to protect you from the biting Autumn winds and he frowns as you curl into yourself, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You seem smaller somehow, more vulnerable. He’s already taking his coat off as he approaches you.

“Angel,” he calls out softly, placing his coat over your shoulders, but you don’t move. You don’t even react…are you even breathing?

Eris steps around you, his eyes pools of amber concern and as he comes to stand in front of you, his heart clenches. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy. Tears stain your rosy cheeks, making his knees weak. Yet it's the emptiness in your gaze and the absence of radiance in your expression that shatters his heart. This court has broken you beyond repair. You, who always shined so bright, who lit up his world, were losing your spark. This is what he had been trying to prevent and he failed.

His hands cup your face in a tender caress, internally wincing at the lack of warmth he feels. Drawing upon his powers, he channels heat into his hands. As the warmth envelops you, he watches as your distant gaze gradually returns to him.

A pained expression clouds his features, tears stinging at his own eyes. He knows the answer, recognizes it the more he looks at you. He knows because you wear the same expression he does after facing Beron’s temper. But he needs to hear it. His brows furrow, barely able to contain the anger that had been left simmering. Anger not directed at you but at his father.

“Did he…did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay.”

There’s a roughness to your voice he’s never heard before that kills him inside. You lean in to his touch, tilting your head slightly to the right. Consequently, the same cheek Beron had struck earlier. Eris frowns. There’s no mark on your pretty features, no trace of harm of any kind. Though, he knows better now.

So he asks again. Differently and more carefully, this time. He’s trying very hard to tame the fire raging through his veins for your sake, worrying that he’d scare you if he allows you even the slightest glimpse of it.

“Did he touch you?”

You shift your head, attempting to escape his hold. But Eris doesn’t allow it and takes your silence as an answer. He swallows thickly. His father had laid his hands on you. Fiery tongues surge from the earth, swirling around you both and painting the air with bright hues of amber and scarlet. How dare he? His father is going to pay for this, Eris will make sure of it. He’s going to return the pain Beron inflicted on you tenfold. He’s going to ki—

“I’m okay.” You try again and it’s as if you’re also trying to convince yourself.

Eris leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmurs, voice thick with longing and regret. He had been so careful about leaving Autumn since your arrival and the one time he has to leave it, is when you find yourself in trouble.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now.”

He feels the softness of your hand against one of his, prompting his eyes to open. His amber orbs glisten with a haunting luminosity as quiet tears escape them. “I put you in this situation,” he confesses quietly.

Confusion flashes onto your face, your eyes searching for answers and he feels his heart at his throat. “I arranged your marriage, knowing the life I would be damning you to. This is all my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known. You didn’t know me then and my father…this marriage would’ve happened any–”

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, inhaling sharply, voice strained with emotion. He doesn’t think you’d be defending him if you knew what he did to your father just hours ago. “Don’t defend me. I don’t deserve it.”

And then he reluctantly drops his hands, stepping away from you, needing to put some distance between you both.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Eris–” You take a step closer but he holds out a hand, flames erupting from the ground right between the both of you.

“No. You don’t understand, Angel. I’ve tried to fight it but I can’t contend. You’ve pierced through every defense of mine and now… I’m exhausted.I can’t pretend anymore.” Eris bows his head, flames dancing around him with heightened intensity. He collapses to his knees, surrendering to the turmoil within.

“You awaken sensations within me that I’ve never known. Sensations that both exhilarate and terrify me. If you–if you only knew the depths of my capabilities, the lengths I would go for you, the sacrifices I’ve already made...”

He can already imagine the heartbroken look on your face when you find out the truth. That he, your mate, the very being that should bring you nothing but joy and shower you in love brought harm upon your family. You’re one and only remaining family member. It did not matter if your father was a monster because either way, you adored him. Or rather, the idea of him.

Eris should tell you the truths he learned. How your father poisoned you for years, treating you not as his daughter but as a mere experiment instead. He only read snippets here and there from the journal, read just enough to be sickened with the horrors purposely inflicted upon you.

And Eris will tell you. He knows he needs to. But you’re breaking and he can feel you on the verge of shattering apart this very moment. If he tells you now, he fears–

“Eris.”

Your voice pulls him out of his racing thoughts and he winces. As if it physically pains him to hear the sweet way you say his name. “Don’t say my name like that, angel,” he nearly pleads. You don’t know what you do to him.

The flames pulse around him with the rhythm of his heart. He decides at that moment that you can hate him all you want after. As long as you’re alive, as long as your radiance returns to you, that’s all that matters. He just desperately needs you to be you again.

“Just tell me, angel, and I’ll do it,” Eris says, closing his eyes as he tries to steady his breath. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better? I can’t bear the sight of seeing you like this so please tell me.”

His words strike a nerve in you, the devotion in them unfamiliar to you. How cruel, you think, tears pooling at your eyes for an entirely different reason. You’re marrying the wrong Vanserra. You take a step forward, the flames of Eris’s fire threatening to swallow you whole.

“You care for me?”

“Devastatingly so.”

Another step forward. Your heart hammers in your chest. The flames lick at your feet and you should fear them. But you don’t. Because it’s Eris and though you shouldn’t, you want him. Not Sawyer or anyone else. You want Eris. All of him.

“You’d really do anything for me?”

Eris lets out a sound–a mixture of an exhale and laugh. It’s humorless and singed with disbelief as if he can’t believe you’re really asking him that after he just confessed it all to you. But you need to hear it again.

“I would traverse all over Prythian, surmount every obstacle, and brave the fiercest storms just to see the light of your smile. All you have to do is ask.”

And then you’re taking that last step, braving yourself against the searing heat that dances in the air to reach him. Because if you’re going to die, you need him to know. You need him to know the truth that lingers in your heart.

That he’s your golden hour, painting your world in shades of warmth and love, but also your midnight hour, where secret desires and dreams are whispered under a canopy of stars and now…

Now, he’s everything in between. You’re every waking thought and the last before you sleep. You need him to know that you burn for him. Ardently. Your breath catches and Eris’s eyes snap open, widening as his fire reaches out to embrace you.

But it doesn’t burn you.

The two of you look at each other in awe before you’re falling to your knees in front of him, the flames enfolding around you in a tender caress. Neither of you say a word. Your hands reach out to cup his face, coaxing his gaze to you. He doesn’t stop you this time. Not even as you lean in and press your lips against his. He should pull away but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips move against yours, kissing the warmth right back into you, giving a piece of light from him to you.

You pull away, just enough to speak but still close enough to feel the warmth of his mouth. “And if I ask you to take me in a way only a lover could, what then?”

He looks at you with such an intensity it sets you alight but then he’s averting his gaze and there’s an ache in your chest. “Please,” you whisper, eyes glistening with tears.

You always dreamed of what your wedding would be like, who you would marry. A part of you always knew that it would be arranged. Still, you foolishly hoped that in light of the arrangement, love would blossom. That your husband would hold affection toward you and learn to love you. That on your first night together, he’d be gentle and caring.

But your dream was morphing into something darker. Your husband would never love you in the way you desire. He hated the very thought of you and though you caught a mere glimpse of the caring male underneath the harsh exterior earlier, it did nothing to soothe you. It can’t be Sawyer.

The night you dreamed of was becoming a nightmare. The last thread of hope was hanging precariously, threatened by the sharp blade of anxiety and fear. You can’t lose the last part you hold dear to Sawyer. You can’t let Beron win. They don’t deserve to forever hold this over you.

You look at Eris, your last thread of hope. “Your father called for a bedding ceremony and I don’t want that to be my first time. I don’t want Sawyer to…to…”

“I know, angel,” Eris murmurs, not letting you finish your sentence. He wipes at your tears and then places his hands over yours, which remain on his face. He gives a gentle kiss to your lips but his body is tense. The thought of you having to endure the horrors of a forced bedding ceremony. Your body on display for others to see, the emotional and physical pain it will bring upon you, the—

Eris has to force himself out of those dark thoughts, the bond in his chest roaring with a fierce and protective anger. He kisses you again. This time, on your forehead. “It’s not going to happen.”

“But your father–”

The fear in your eyes pains him. He pulls you closer, nose brushing against yours as he forces you to look into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

“Then trust me when I say that no one will touch you against your will again.”

“Even though your father, the High Lord, has condemned me to death?”

“No one,” he repeats, voice firm as he pulls you close to him. One arm wraps itself around your waist while the other cradles your head to his chest. He brushes his fingers through your hair, basking in the sweet scent of rose it brings forth.

Silence envelops you both and you allow it to embrace you, the same way Eris does. In his arms, you are safe, you are warm. It is just the two of you…against the world.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of,” Eris speaks softly.

“I’m thinking…” your voice trails off as you shift in his hold to face him. His hands fall to your waist and you make yourself comfortable in his lap, placing a knee on either side of him. “What if it's your touch I will?”

Heat and desire pour through the bond, filling his veins.

“Your eyes I dream of,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his red hair and tilting his head up to look into his eyes. When you lean in to delicately kiss the corners of his eyes, he shudders beneath you.

“Your heart I want.”

Your hand trails down his neck in a tender caress, stopping at his chest. Right over the organ that beats for you. The golden threads stir under your touch and he swallows thickly, eyes locked onto you. He wonders if you can feel it–the way the bond is singing madly like it wants to be heard. With a sudden boldness, he tugs on it.

His eyes widen when your body seems to react, lurching forward slightly. Your movements still, hand lingering on his chest and he watches you with bated breath. You felt it…but your end of the bond remains quiet. Still waiting to unravel, only giving him a glimpse of the emotions stirring within you.

Something that both uneases and relieves him. He wants to know exactly what you’re feeling–if your emotions resonate with the same fervor that consumes him. He wants you to understand the depth of his devotion to you. However, amidst his yearning, your oblivion toward the bond allows him to mask the subtle shift in your scent. A silent sacrifice that weighs heavy upon his heart but a burden he is glad to carry if it means he can safeguard your innocent heart from the cunning foxes at court.

Your hand continues its path downwards, tracing a tantalizing path toward his. His heart stirs with a flutter of anticipation. He can feel the unspoken yearning in your touch. With trembling fingers, he intertwines his hand with yours, each brush of your skin igniting a wildfire in him that grows brighter as you bring his hand to your lips.

“Your hand in marriage I long for.” You press a soft kiss upon the fourth finger of his left hand and his resolve is faltering. Teetering on the edge of surrender…

The flames surrounding you both catch on the ring on your fourth finger, the very one claimed by his brother. A forced and loveless claim. Yet still, regretfully, not him. A stark reminder that you are not his and perhaps, will never be. The simple golden band glistens precariously as if acknowledging his thoughts. He should stop you.

“Y/n–”

“Your touch I crave,” you continue, your longing turning into a desperate need as you kiss him. Harder, with more urgency, sending a delightful sensation down his spine that makes his cock twitch.

As your hips roll against his, Eris abruptly pulls away. The hands at your waist tighten, keeping you still and holding on to that last wall of defense. He wants you but he shouldn’t.

Your brows furrow and Eris hates the hurt that flashes in your eyes. The hope that deflates. “I’m sorry.Have I misinterpreted your—““

“I want you too,” he interrupts, needing to reassure you. He licks his lips, gaze flickering to your own, already missing their taste, before lifting back up. “Gods, do I want you but not like this.”

He gestures to the autumn meadow around you both. The meadow that is painted in hues of crimson and gold and alive with the whisper of falling leaves and dancing flames. It’s beautiful. The epitome of Autumn. But it’s no proper place to have you.

“You deserve better. You deserve for your first time to be special.”

“It does not matter where we are. As long as it’s with you, it is special. Please,” your bottom lip trembles and Eris leans in, gently kissing it steady. “I want you to be my first. I don’t want it to be Sawyer or anyone else. I want it to be you.”

“We don’t have to do this now. There will be another time,” Eris utters but his voice lacks strength. The promise in his words hangs in the air delicately like a wisp of smoke that is already dissipating into uncertainty.

“Time,” you echo quietly, a wistful shadow casting over your features. “What if we don’t have time? What if–what if this moment is all we have left?”

Eris wants to respond but the words catch in his throat. There’s nothing he can say to reassure you there. He knows you’re aware of the impending dangers that wait for you back at court. His father will be watching you closely now, security will be tighter. Eris will have to be more careful, tread lighter and with higher caution.

There’s only a little less than two weeks away from your marriage to Sawyer. The three of you are running out of the time and there is still so much to do. The stolen moments with you will have to cease and he senses you’re aware of this truth as well. This may be the very last one between you both.

If you thought Autumn was a terrible place before, then you’re about to learn that it’s much, much worse. It’s a living hell. And Eris curses the Cauldron for its cruelty.

Angels like you shouldn’t live in hell.

“So much has been taken from me and I fear there is very little choice I have remaining in this world. But this,” you pause, placing his hand over your racing heart, an urgent plea echoing in the rapid rise and fall beneath his touch. “This is mine to give and it wants you. I want to give it to you before it’s too late…”

Eris’s entire body tenses, muscles tightening with restraint.

“And if your heart feels the same, then I need you,” your voice trembles under the weight of your emotions and suddenly, Eris feels like he can’t breathe. “Like fire craves the kiss of air–”

No one has ever looked at him with such devotion, spoken to him with such passion. It’s overwhelming and threatening to drown him in its intensity. While his mind is screaming for him to run away, his heart wills for him to stay.

“–like flowers thirst for the tender caress of rain, like–”

Eris’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is searing yet gentle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he groans into your mouth. He carefully guides you back onto the soft bed of fallen leaves and golden grass, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other remains over your heart.

He kisses you until you’re both breathless and forced to pull apart. His body hovers over yours, amber eyes drinking you in. He tenderly kisses the remnants of your tears away, reveling in the way you softly sigh and lips begin to curve upwards into a smile.

“I love you, Eris.”

The three words hit Eris so hard there’s a crack in the last wall of defense. He’s terrified to move, not wanting to leave this moment but also in fear that if he does, that last wall will crumble entirely.

“Me? Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more unequivocally sure.”

Eris studies you intently, captivated by every subtle shift in your expression. There’s nothing but unwavering love and desire reflecting back at him with such luminous intensity that it threatens to blind him. He can no longer think properly. Every reservation, every thought telling him to stop is slipping through his fingers.

All he can think about is you and how you love him. You love him! You love him! You love him!

And when he meets your eyes again, it’s too late.

The damage has already been done. That last wall of defense is crumbling at a devastating speed. A soft flush creeps up his cheeks, betraying the vulnerability that seeps through his every pore in surrender.

“Is this what you really want?”

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as his nose brushes softly along your neck. “Even if it’s just for this moment, let me be entirely yours. Every beat of my heart. Every breath. Take it all.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Eris murmurs against your neck, inhaling sharply and when the honeyed scent of your arousal greets him, he whimpers.

Gentle is not a word Eris Vanserra would use to describe himself. That is, until he met you. His mate. The one who dismantled the walls he spent centuries constructing around his heart in months with little effort. In your presence, lies a burning desire to soften the edges of his demeanor. To be the gentle male worthy of your affection.

You wield a power over him unlike any other, leaving him utterly captivated and surrendering to all rationality. He should tell you he feels the same but he is beyond words. How can mere words capture the magnitude of his devotion?

So when you’re asking–begging–to be his, he can’t bring himself to say no. Not when this may be the very last moment shared between you both. Not when you’re giving him the perfect opportunity to show you the depth of his feelings instead.

Everything fades into insignificance. Nothing matters but this moment. With a touch as light as the brush of butterfly wings, his hands explore your body. Tentatively, as if scared to burn you with his burgeoning desire. Always asking for permission–”is this okay?” “yes”–before venturing further, before discarding your clothes–his clothes.

Flames continue to dance around you both, a protective circle and barrier against the cold winds. Each flicker of light casts intricate shadows upon your faces, your bodies. Eris pulls away just enough to admire you. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down and capturing your lips for what feels like the hundredth time. But it will never be enough. “So, so beautiful.”

You’re melting like wax beneath every touch and then his lips are tracing down the paths his hands have forged. Gentle and somehow still urgent. His mouth lingers on the swell of your breasts, sucking and eliciting the prettiest sounds from you.

“If it’s too much, you tell me,” he utters, holding your gaze as he rests his chin on your stomach. He can sense your nerves. He’s nervous too. He wants this to be perfect for you. As perfect as it can be, given your circumstances.

“We can stop whenever you want.”

You nod but it’s not enough for Eris. “Words, angel,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach. “I need your words.”

“I’ll tell you,” you breathe, body arching into him. “I promise.”

Eris presses another kiss to your stomach before continuing his path downwards, to where he can feel you aching for him the most. He’s breathing so hard and kissing every inch of your skin, setting you ablaze. His nose brushes against the apex of your thighs and he’s flooded with your arousal. It’s overwhelming all his senses and he’s pulsing with need to have a taste.

Still, he pauses to look up at you through his long eyelashes.

“Please,” is all you manage to say.

Eris moans in anticipation, drinking in your otherworldly beauty, the same way he wishes to devour you. One hand rests on your hip while the other reaches for yours. His fingers intertwine themselves with yours and when you squeeze them, he lowers his mouth and finally has a taste.

You throw your head back with a choked cry. “Eris!”

Eris groans, lapping and working his tongue against you. He’s never loved his name more. “You taste absolutely divine,” he breathes, losing himself in you. If this is how you taste, his cock throbs painfully as he imagines how you’d feel.

You reach your peak soon, crying out his name again. He lifts his head and brings your locked hands to his lips, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. “Beautiful,” he whispers again, heart swelling with warmth. Overcome with emotion, he dives for your lips and pours them out into his kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

The hand not intertwined with yours, caresses against your core, fingers prodding at your entrance. Your mouth parts in a gasp at the intrusion but he eases you through it until you're clenching around his fingers and begging for more.

“Are you sure you still want this?” He can’t help but ask, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go slow,” Eris promises, his amber gaze filled with softness and tenderness. Blush rises to your cheeks and it’s instinctual, the way you look away. He lets out a low sound in disapproval. “Eyes on me, angel.”

When you meet his gaze, his pupils are blown but his gaze remains soft and warm. Your lips curve upwards and he does the same. Both of his hands are locked with yours, resting on either side of your head. He holds your gaze, slowly sinking into your warmth and stilling at the furrow of your brows. He kisses them, allowing you to adjust and wanting to ease any discomfort you may be feeling.

“You’re doing so well for me, angel,” he encourages, voice strained. The bond in his chest is surging with pride at being your first and with a primal fervor to be the only one who gets to have you like this.

He feels like his heart is going to burst into flames and when he finally sheathes himself inside you, everything catches fire. His mind. His body. His soul. Every muscle, every nerve in his body is coming undone with every thrust. His kisses, though still soft, grow intense. So hot yet so sweet.

Fire consumes him, its vibrant flames igniting not destruction but building something new. Something beautiful. Something heavenly. where hopes and dreams, once thought lost, are resuscitated. The wounds of his heart being mended by you.

His body presses further into yours, mouth pressing feverish kisses down your neck, whispering sweet praises and worshipping you for the divine being you are. Your moans grow louder and you’re clenching around him tighter. “I love you,” your voice is a mere whisper but he hears it loud and clearly and you don’t seem to mind his lack of response. Not when he’s following after you, bodies shuddering as release courses through you both.

Eris pulls you close to his chest, arms tight around you. He can feel your heartbeat. Fast but steadying and in tune with the rhythm of his own. The gentle rise and fall of your chest let him know you’ve fallen asleep. Letting out a sigh in content, he closes his eyes, wanting to bask in this moment longer.

His fingers lightly trace along your back, tracing the four words he couldn’t bring himself to say back to you earlier.

I love you, too.

a/n: I've never written soft smut before so I hope it was okay. I also hope I was able to convey the desperation between Eris and reader well. I debated a lot on whether keeping the smut or scrapping it. Huge thank you to @stormhearty for helping me out with this part and giving me her input! ily! ❤️

series tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy, @queerqueenlynn, @circe143

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

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #eris angel au #eris vanserra smut #eris smut #acotar smut

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fandomloverangel · 8 months

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JESUS FUCK I'm finally done writing down ALL of their supplies up to the end chapter 6 (most recent published chapter as of writing). Hopefully this will make it easier to keep track of supply runs and usage for future chapters. So done.

But! Now I can write the next chapter without my OCD screaming at me that "I'm forgetting something and it's all going to be ruined now check again and again and again."

So happy to be actually writing again. This whole ordeal has made me want to make this longfic even longer, just so I don't have to do a montage + mental math again. I'll just write it all out in full detail like I'm a 12 year old in 2013 describing my character in a mirror (jk, I'll keep shortening it, I won't put my readers through that. This is AO3, not Wattpad.)

I didn't even realize this was causing me this much stress. Wow. Now all I have to do is the easy part, just add a line here and there to fix the inconsistencies, write the next chapter, and publish it. Never thought I'd call the actual writing bit the easy part.

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orbdotexe · 1 year

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What is seed of silver wings? I’ve seen you mention it a few times but I have no idea what you are on about.

I must have missed something…

It's from awhile back, when the Tree of Silver Wings on Io was relevant, right before the planets were yoinked! This Tree's parent came from the Black Garden, but is "felled" now, as Eris puts it.

"A weapon, born of the Light and made from the physical essence of the Traveler, like the Tree of Silver Wings. This is unprecedented." -Ghost, about Hawkmoon

While the Mk. 44 Stand Asides loretab describes it as: "The air around it is oppressive and inspires violence in those who even breathe a little in. Shards of the disastrous bark peel from it and litter the ground, and nothing grows in its shadow. It scintillates faintly at dusk. It has achieved its entelechy with every body falling, every civilization laid to waste, every leaf forged into instruments of ruin."

Extra bit I figured I'd throw in, from the Ishtar Collective website's entry on Eris Morn: Some time after the Pyramid on the Moon was discovered, a Pyramid arrived on Io and neutralized Rasputin. Zavala asked the Guardian to find Morn; the Guardian began searching for her on Io, where they found her beneath a Tree of Silver Wings. She attempted to claim the Seed of Silver Wings from the Tree, but was denied. In her place, the Guardian took the Seed

#i keep thinking about how Eris couldn't claim it but we could??#anyway yeah in spite of all my lore breaking AUs. I do in fact know my Lore!#Orb Rambles #angel!YW

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ao3feed-izuku-midoriya · 2 years

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Little Wild Thing

Little Wild Thing by stainedglasscastle

The world has ended. The world is at peace. The world is falling apart. Eri is far too powerful for this place, but she's still a child. A dangerous child who conjures up storms with a thought and searches beaches for fallen stars, but a child nevertheless.

Words: 4091, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Forbidden Knowledge And Impossible Things

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Eri, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Nedzu, Toogata Mirio

Relationships: Eri & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Eri, Eri & Nedzu, Eri & Toogata Mirio, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Toogata Mirio

Additional Tags: Fireflies, This was originally supposed to be an angels & demons AU what happened, Comparing a child to weather, Mentioned Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Mentioned Sasaki Mirai | Sir Nighteye, Dead Midoriya Izuku, Dead Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Eri-centric, Chaos, Mentioned Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Stars, Toogata Mirio is Not Okay, Angst, Haircuts, fluff?, Toogata Mirio Needs a Hug, he gets a haircut instead, Hopeful Ending, these tags are out of order sorry, Vaguely Mentioned Hatsume Mei, Are Aizawa and Yamada friends or lovers who knows, how many tags are too many tags, Mentioned Midoriya Izuku

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39251640

#AO3 Feed #FanFiction #AO3 Izuku #♠#Izuku Midoriya #Eri #Aizawa Shouta #Nedzu #R:T #A:Stainedgla #Angel Demon AU #Angst

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shadowriel · 6 months

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ACOTAR Couples & Halloween Costumes: Headcanons 👻 🎃

Feysand: Feyre and Rhys definitely have a cute family costume planned with Nyx, but as soon as they leave him with a babysitter, they have to be the hottest couple in a 25-mile radius. Think Mr. & Mrs. Smith, think mafia AU, think Feyre in a slutty dress and Rhys unable to keep his hands off her

Nessian: Nesta and Cassian start planning their costumes at least a year in advance. No expense is spared, no detail is overlooked. Sure, they get into semi-heated arguments leading up to their favourite day of the year, but it’s well worth it. My vote goes to them being sexy pirates, or a gender bent Hades and Persephone.

Elucien: The thing about Elain Archeron is that she will always be that bitch, so well-dressed that people can’t help but stare. Lucien LOVES it! He’s also more than happy to take off his shirt at Elain’s request. A Greek god (or warrior) and goddess definitely works for their day court vibes (bonus points if Elain is Aphrodite).

Azris: Eris and Azriel famously refuse to put effort into Halloween. Azriel has been known to throw on cat ears. Eris has worn a mask or used fake blood on more than one occasion. Yet, somehow they end up surprising everyone by dressing up as a cop (Eris) and sexy criminal (Azriel). Yes, the handcuffs are fully functional. And, yes, Azriel wears a crop top.

Emorie: Our fave girlies have one goal on Halloween, and that’s to look ridiculously hot. Mor lives by the fact that “hoes don’t get cold” and usually makes a costume out of lingerie. Emerie’s been known to follow her lead or dress in something’s that more comfy. I think they would absolutely slay as an angel and demon.

Bonus addition: Emerie as a witch (and Mor can tag along as a black cat)

Gwynriel: These two always go with a costume that’s ridiculously niche or nerdy. Sometimes, Gwyn will get Azriel to dress up as her favourite male characters. Sometimes, she’ll wear a gorgeous costume on her own (and Azriel will just be there, looking at her with hearts in his eyes). Batman and catwoman is a fan favourite, but Gwyn loves the year she found her new favourite book and got them to dress up as a priestess and shadowsinger.

Elriel: Elain is hot (see above), and Azriel is more than happy to take a supporting role when it comes to couples costumes. Elain wants to wear a fancy dress? Azriel will offer to hold her purse. It’s an Elain Archeron world and Azriel is loving every second of just being in it. I feel like a flower and gardener costume would be cute couples costume for them.

Jassa: Jurian and Vassa are here to have fun. All of their costumes are easy-going and definitely bought last-minute, but they still look amazing. They’re known to find things around the house, and wear a costume that they insist is a pun. Some years, they remember they have these race car outfits at the back of their closet.

Gwynlain: Gwyn and Elain are for the Pinterest girlies. They always have the most gorgeous costumes, and their makeup is impeccably done. Dare I say, they’re the second hottest couple in a 25-mile radius. My brain is literally malfunctioning at the thought of them dressing up like Bloom and Flora from Winx Club.

I honestly could go on and on (and on…)

[All images were found on pinterest]

#acotar #feysand #nessian #elucien #azris #emorie #gwynriel #elriel #jassa #gwynlain #basically all the ships #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanons #acotar halloween

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preprecure · 9 months

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Twisted Wonderland: RSA au

[‼️Character and Dorm Introductions‼️]

Twisted from Alice In Wonderland replacing Heartslabyl.

Wondreation

Twisted from Alice

Name: Ellias, La dell

Age: 17

School Year: 2nd

Twisted from The White Rabbit

Name: Lapine, Blanc

Age: 18

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Tweedle Dee and Dum

Name: Eleanor, Twiddle

Name: Theodore, Twiddle

Age(s): 16

School year: 1st

(Cannon Character)

Twisted from The Cheshire Cat

Che’nya

(Cannon)Age: 18

(Cannon)School Year: 3rd? (Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong)

Twisted from The Lion King replacing Savanaclaw.

Sunlione

Twisted from Timone Name: Dakarai

Age: 21

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Pumbaa

Name: Faraji

Age: 19

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from The Little Mermaid replacing Octavinelle.

Atlarine

(Mentioned Character) Twisted from Ariel

Name: Reiél, Sirene

Age: 17

School Year: 2nd

Twisted from Flounder

Name: Angel, Flounfin

Age: 16

School Year: 1st

Twisted from Prince Eric

Name: Eris, Marine.

Age: 18

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Aladdin replacing Scarabia.

Mayali

Twisted from Aladdin

Name: Raheel

Age: 17

School Year: 2nd

Twisted from Jasmine

Name: Nasim, Al-Asim

Age: 16

School Year: 1st

Twisted from The Genie Name: Jasper, Jinn

Age: 18

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Snow White replacing Pomfiore.

Rouschne

(Cannon Characters)

Twisted from Snow White

Name: Neige, Leblanche

Age: 17

School Year: 2nd

Twisted From the Dwarves

Names: Dominic (Doc)

Grum (Grumpy)

Shelpie (Sleepy)

Hop (Happy)

Timmy (Bashful)

Snick (Sneezy)

Toby (Dopey)

Ages and School Year: Unknown

(Ima just take a guess and say they’re 2nd and 3rd years)

Twisted from Hercules replacing Ignihyde.

Holympus Twisted from Hercules

Name: Hera, Tancy

Age: 18

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Meg/Megera

Name: Morgan, Iolanthe

Age: 18

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Sleeping Beauty replacing Diasomnia.

Rosemni

Twisted from Aurora

Name: Aurum

Age: 17

School Year: 2nd

Twisted from Flora (The green Good Fairy)

Name: Canta, Verda

Age: Unknown

School Year: 2nd

Twisted from Fauna (The pink Good Fairy)

Name: Allium, Bella

Age: Unknown

School Year: 3rd

Twisted from Merryweather (The blue Good Fairy)

Name: Felix, Livie

Age: Unknown

School Year: 1st

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classywitchunknown · 15 days

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Imagine this

Yandere au

When eri first meets izuku and mirio, yn is there. They see the girl shaking like a scared little kitten, and when overhaul came over, they see that eri seemed more scared and clinging to them. Overhaul tried to get her off, but yn volunteered to go with them. Overhaul excepts. Izu and mirio tried to stop them, but yn (being their angelic stubborn self) wouldn't back down, especially when they see someone in need. So in the end, yn went with overhaul and eri. While there, yn tries to stop what they're doing to eri, but it's all futile. They'll comfort her. Eri sees yn as a big sibling and never wants to lose them.

When the heroes came to rescue yn and eri. During all the chaos, overhaul got yn confesses (in his rude creepy way). In the fight, yn protect eri the best they can. When overhaul tells eri negative things, he has yn caged in a bunch of rocks. While Yn shouted and tried to break out, izu saved both them and eri. They all went to the hospital. Yn never leaving eri's side, making sure she's OK.

Yn just got 2 more yanderes, one platonic and the other confessed.

If you write a story that includes this, please include the whole show because I wanna see how you write the way others become yanderes, platonic or romantic. And share with me please 🙏 🥺.

Plus, sorry for my poor writing

#imagine #yandere mha #mha x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere overhaul #platonic yandere eri #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere mirio #platonic yandere #romantic yandere #herem

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prythianpages · 3 months

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A Man After Midnight | Eris x Reader

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

warnings: mentions of assault (reader gets touched against her will but nothing explicit or anything that goes beyond that), blood, bruises/abuse/bullying; reader having a panic attack

a/n: This originally was going to head a different direction but I decided to make it like a part three to this instead. You can also read this as a stand alone one-shot. I love ABBA and I knew I had to use this song. One of my favs but you'll find that I say that a lot. You can find the masterlist to my ABBA x ACOTAR series here.

Your eyes light up as you spot Sawyer stepping out from the High Lord’s study. Overridden with excitement, you eagerly fall into step with him, the sheer brightness of your presence outshining the dimly lit surroundings. You pay no mind to the fact that his other brothers, Hunter and Oliver, are not too far behind.

“Good morning, Sawyer! Will you walk with me?” you beam up at him with a smile. It's the kind of sight that would make many fall to their feet–that even Oliver wants to bask in the glow of.

But Sawyer? He doesn’t even spare you a glance, his dark brown eyes fixed ahead as he replies, his tone detached. “I’m doing that right now.”

You can hear his brothers snicker behind you–too close for your liking that it has you quickening your steps. “But I was hoping you’d walk with me in the gardens? Or maybe we can have lunch together? We are to be marri–”

“Our marriage is nothing but a business deal arranged by our fathers.” He cuts you in sharply and you find your resolve faltering.

“Love may not come from our marriage but perhaps, we can be friends?” You offer, hating the desperation that seeps into your tone, as you trail behind Sawyer.

Sawyer stops abruptly, causing you to crash into his chest and stumble backwards. You catch yourself, a hand rubbing at your forehead where you’re sure an imprint of the necklace he wears marks your reddening skin. Your betrothed looks down at you in a way no one has ever before. Ever since your father left, it appeared that so did Sawyer’s patience. It’s as if the male you met when you first arrived was a facade. Pure disgust simmers in his heated gaze and his nose wrinkles as he lets out a scoff, causing you to shrink back.

“Friends? I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t want to be anything with you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and instinctively, you take another step back, as though the physical distance could somehow lessen the impact of his words. It doesn’t. Your lip trembles as a frown threatens to overtake your features.

“How can you mean that when you barely know me?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper but you know by the way his steps stop, that he catches every word. So you decide to remind him and add: “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to turn around or answer you, simply choosing to keep walking away. Hunter pushes past you aggressively, turning to smirk at your distraught expression as he catches up with Sawyer. It is Oliver who stops you from colliding into the wall. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you and pulling you close to him.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too pretty to cry.”

Oliver’s free hand reaches up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to him. His lips form a slight pout that contrasts the mischief twinkling in his amber eyes. He leans to lick the single tear trickling down your cheek and you wince. You want to run but his grip on you is strong.

He then directs your attention forward, where Hunter has Sawyer in a similar hold. “Tell her,” Hunter says, gaze darkening with a thirst to torment. He flashes his teeth as his smirk widens. This is all a fun game to him. “Tell her why you don’t like her.”

Sawyer looks like he would rather die than answer Hunter’s demand. He glares at you as he struggles to free himself from his brother’s grasps but Hunter is much stronger. He realizes that he won’t be free until he says something. Finally, between clenched teeth, Sawyer answers. “She’s not my type.”

Hunter throws his head back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room with a dark and menacing resonance.

“What a shame,” Oliver says, his breath tickling your ear as his hand roams down the length of your neck. You swear your heart misses a beat when his hand stops right over the swell of your chest. His nails dig into your chest at your struggle to free yourself. “She’s exactly my type.”

Your entire body tenses at the unwanted touch, eyes widening when you feel heat prick at your skin. The smell of burnt fabric reaches your nose and a chill permeates, displacing the warmth as Oliver lifts his flaming hand from you. You rush to cross your arms over your chest, desperate to cover your exposed skin from Hunter’s and Oliver’s hungry gazes.

“Just look at her,” Oliver continues, pushing you forward so harshly it sends you to your knees. His chuckle makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “So pretty, so docile.”

As you blink away tears of humiliation, your eyes remain fixed on Sawyer, pleading almost. He’s determined to look anywhere but you. You curl your arms tighter around yourself and lower your gaze. You don’t want to give the other Vanserras the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You suspect it will only prompt them to torment you further.

“Then have at her. I don’t care.”

Sawyer’s words reach you with a devastating force like the last blow. They pierce through the core of your naive heart and you can’t help the tears that escape and spill onto the floor. Hunter peels his gaze away from you to roll his eyes at his younger brother, releasing him with a rough shove.

“You’re no fun, Sawyer,” he says with a disappointed sigh, his expectation for a different response lingering unfulfilled. Hunter then looks back at you, you can feel his heated gaze, and you curl in further into yourself. “But it looks like you are.”

“What is the meaning of this??”

Beron’s cold eyes take in the sight before him, gaze sweeping over your slumped form on the floor. It’s Hunter who moves to speak but at the lift of Beron’s finger, his mouth closes shut. Beron comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care as there’s other pressing matters to attend to. Such as dealing with your father and ensuring he keeps his end of the agreement. He turns to his oldest, who stands at his side with a perfectly donned mask.

“You deal with whatever this is.”

“Yes, father,” Eris replies with no hesitation and Beron pats him on the shoulder–the same shoulder he left a bruise on the other night.

Eris bites back a wince. He waits until his father is away from sight to take in the situation before him. The torches lining up the halls flare. With a simmering intensity that could rival a raging inferno, Eris turns his attention to the brother closest to him. The searing authority of his gaze has Oliver raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepping away from you.

“We were just having a little fun, brother.”

“Fun?”

Eris releases a disbelieving exhale as he grasps onto Oliver’s shirt. He wants to burn his hand through his brother’s skin until he’s screaming and crying, the same way Oliver had intended to do with you. Because how dare he touch you, hurt you. It’s as if Oliver can hear the crackling roar of the fire burning within his older brother and his eyes widen in fear.

Under the weight of Hunter’s hawk eyes, Eris grudgingly settles on shoving Oliver further away from him. And you.

“If you want to have fun, go to a fucking brothel. This is our home.”

Oliver releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t waste another second, happy to leave the hall before his brother can take back his mercy.

"And you," Eris seethes, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he turns to face Hunter next. Eris effortlessly surpasses him in both stature and might, looming over him like a formidable mountain casting its shadow. “Shouldn’t you be making haste to quell the riots in town? Or should I add that to your growing list of incapabilities?”

Hunter's fists clench at his sides, the dance of flames flickering along his skin, but in the presence of Eris, his fire pales in comparison. The fire raging within Eris burns brighter, stronger. A force that demands respect and obedience. Much like their father’s. Without uttering another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Stepping forward, Eris finally allows his gaze to fall on you and he feels a violent tug in his chest that threatens to weaken him. The desire to sink to his knees beside you and envelop your trembling form in his arms is an overpowering one, coursing through him like a forbidden current. Yet, the harsh reality holds him back. It’s too dangerous. He cannot act upon the fervent emotions that entwine his heart and it pains him, seeking to destroy him almost.

But he can’t just leave you there. Helpless. On the floor. So he masks his emotions–something he is well accustomed to–and dons a facade of annoyance. With a deft, almost dismissive motion, Eris removes his tailcoat, flinging it carelessly in your direction. The seconds stretch into a languid dance as your eyes, wide with surprise, meet his. You gratefully slip his coat over your smaller form, clutching it tightly to your chest.

There’s a bittersweet ache that lingers within Eris at the unexpected intake of breath you give.

A fleeting flicker of sweet agony passes through his eyes. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it was a mere figment of your imagination.

"And lastly," Eris starts with a deep sigh, the once-fiery intensity in his eyes dimming as he regards his last remaining brother. The only brother left that harbored some redeemable qualities but now, Eris questioned it.

"Is this any way to treat your fiancé?"

A ripple courses through Sawyer's jawline. “Why do you care?”

"I don't." Eris retorts with a glare. He's skilled at weaving falsehoods, and though this one is way far out from the truth, it slides effortlessly off his tongue like all the other ones. He immediately senses the weight of your gaze pressing into the expense of his back.

"But I do care about the consequences if she runs away. You should too."

Though it pains him, he doesn’t turn back around to you. He looks at Sawyer once more in warning. Then, he begins to walk away, every step pulling him further from the one he yearns to be with. Your gaze, burning into him like a relentless brand the entire time.

Weeks Later..

Autumn winds blow harshly outside the window as you look around your room. They mirror the melancholy that lingers in your heart. Your room is big and spacious, seems fit for a princess, adorned with sculpted art and paintings. In one corner stands a massive wardrobe crafted from the richness of dark cherry wood filled to the brim with a variety of dresses that would make any lady of your status swoon. Beside it, there’s a lovely vanity with golden carvings that hosts an array of makeup and beauty products. On the opposite side, is a desk that matches your wardrobe. It bears the weight of books, letters from your father, threads, unfinished embroideries and your untouched dinner.

At a glance, it appears you have everything.

Yet, as you sit on the bed, a pitiful truth echoes louder than the winds outside. Your gaze meets a reflection in the full-length mirror positioned next to the desk, capturing the solemn expression that dances across your features. Dark, sad eyes stare back at you and the weight of isolation is evident in the downturned corners of your mouth. You miss your home. Your friends, your horse, your father, and gods do you miss your mother.

Upon your arrival, eager anticipation filled your heart as you looked forward to getting acquainted with your future husband. You knew not to expect love to come from it as you were mere strangers but you had hoped for a friend. The promise of a lifelong companion, a partner to share laughter and weave a tapestry of memories together, stirred excitement and nerves within you. It’s what your father and mother had shared. Your foolish heart had eagerly counted down the days, each one a step closer to a shared future.

But now? As the appointed days draw near, the once-cherished anticipation morphs into a heavy sense of dread, casting a haunting shadow over you. Your husband to be looks at you as if you’re the scum on his boots.

The High Lord, your future father in law, is cruel and terrifying. You avoid him at all costs. Your future mother in law, Lady Autumn, is often busy and away. She helps you plan your dreadful wedding during the times she isn’t busy but you find that she is quiet and reserved. There’s a lingering sadness always present in her amber eyes that you assume comes from all the sorrow and grief she’s had to endure. You’ve met one of her sons–Lucien, you remember– during your travels with your father and you used to wonder why he no longer resided in Autumn but not anymore. You can only imagine the horrors he’s had to endure that made him leave.

Hunter enjoys berating you every chance he can. There’s a darkness that burns in him and you can’t help but think about what would become of you if Sawyer was interested in you. One day, while walking through the garden you overheard from some gossiping servants that Hunter was once married. His wife died shortly after the marriage and rumor has it that the frightening Vanserra had something to do with her sudden disappearance. They wondered if the same fate would befall upon you. A thought you didn’t want to linger on as it was absolutely terrifying.

Then, there’s Oliver. Though kinder, only in comparison to Hunter and maybe even Sawyer, he is not to be trusted. He undresses you with his eyes in every glance and vulgarly welcomes you to his bed. You do your best to stay away from him because as lonely as you are, you’re nowhere near desperate for his company, and fear the day he’ll grow wary of your constant rejection.

You find yourself, however, desperate for another’s. Eris.

You haven’t seen him since that day Sawyer broke your heart, since he let Oliver make a spectacle out of you. Eris had been the only one you’d look forward to seeing during dinner and his noted absence was the reason why you stopped joining the Vanserra dinners yourself.

Days, even weeks have passed, and he hasn’t fulfilled the promise of returning your book, its absence on your nightstand a constant reminder. He hasn’t even asked for his coat back. It remains draped over your desk chair. He’s a rare sight to see when walking amongst the grounds of the Forest house, prompting a question to rise. Is he purposely avoiding you? The mere thought stirs an unexpected pain within you.

There’s no one here for you.

A little over a month into your lifetime stay at the Forest house and you already feel so alone. So utterly and completely alone.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, you rise from your bed and head toward your favorite area of your room–the window seat. Kneeling on the soft cushion, your fingers reach to open the window, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. The Autumn winds continue to howl through the darkness of the night but their chill does not reach you. Your eyes open and you raise your hand. A surge of electricity courses through you as your hand meets an unseen force. A magical barrier.

Turning your head toward the door, your gaze dips to the bottom where shadows dance. You can make out the planted boots of an Autumn guard and hope deflates. Nothing can come in. Nothing can go out. Not only are you alone but you’re trapped.

A taste of what’s to come, of what’s to be of the rest of your miserable life. Lonely. Trapped. Locked away into oblivion. No breath you take is enough as you’re suffocated by the storm of emotions flooding through you. This place is your hell. Impending doom. You’re going to die here. Alone. There’s not a soul out there…

Water. You should drink some water. Tremors take over your body as you make your way toward your nightstand. Water spills onto the floor as you pour yourself a glass. You bring the water to your lips but your throat feels like it’s closing up. You glance at the pocket watch on your nightstand and notice it’s half past twelve.

There’s not a soul out there…

You extend your hand towards the watch—a cherished heirloom passed down from your mother. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of it has long been a source of solace and comfort for you. But it’s too late.

The hand clutching onto your glass of water shatters against the dark wood of your nightstand as you clutch the watch to your racing heart. You can only pray to the Cauldron, the Mother, to anyone as the room spins around you. But there’s no one to hear your prayer…

There’s a deep agony in your chest that tightens with every passing second, an inescapable loop of gloom that envelops your every thought and emotion. There’s not a soul out there. You can’t breathe. No one to hear your prayer…

“y/n.”

You catch the faint murmur of your name being called, yet a lingering doubt creeps in. You must be going mad because there’s no one here for you. Not a soul—

“y/n.”

And there it is again. Your name is being called. Louder, firmer this time. It’s real. The cruel clutches of your sorrow that held you captive begin to shatter like your glass from earlier. The sound of your name acts as a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair you inadvertently locked yourself into.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, angel,” the soothing voice persists, a gentle anchor for your drifting thoughts. And you can finally hear it. Your beloved watch. Though it's fast, it becomes a comforting undercurrent, a familiar melody that helps steady your racing heartbeat.

You feel like you can finally breathe again. As you blink away the haze clouding your vision and come back down, you are met with a pair of familiar amber eyes. The warm hues flicker like flames as they fixate upon you. Intense but tender and full of concern.

“Eris.”

You breathe his name so heavenly, like an answered prayer as you take him in. His dark red hair is tousled as though he emerged hastily from a slumber. Adorned in a thin, un-tied linen shirt, the fine contours of his chest are revealed, and his pants, creased as if donned in urgency, complete the picture of a man who arrived in haste yet with purpose.

"You're here," you say, your tone teetering on the edge of question and you glance toward your door, confirming that the Autumn guard is still stationed there.

You called, he wants to reply but instead, settles on, “I’m here.”

“How?” You ask, aware of the wards in your room preventing winnowing. At first, you thought they were meant to protect you. Now, you’re aware they’re really meant to keep you from escaping.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk. “I have my ways. I know every secret tunnel, every little crevice of this estate.”

Your head turns, eyes scanning your room in search of said secret tunnel. Eris lightly grasps your chin, focusing your attention back to him to keep you from spotting the secret door hidden behind your full length mirror. He wipes at the lingering traces of tears on your face, watching as your eyes dip and fixate on the golden chain encircling his neck. A sigil of three hounds captures your attention—an emblem unfamiliar to your discerning gaze, sparking a curiosity that mingles with the relief flooding your senses.

He finds his own breathing to steady at your calming state but at the sight of blood trickling down your hand, a knot twists in his stomach. “You’re hurt.”

You pull your gaze from his necklace, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “I thought you didn’t care,” you tell him, echoing his words from the last time you saw him.

Again, Eris does not answer you. His eyes scan your room for a moment before abandoning whatever he was searching for. In his haste to aid your bleeding hand, he’s slipping his shirt off without another thought.

“It’s fine,” you insist.

“No. It’s not.” He shakes his head at you as he guides you to the window nook. If only you knew the effect you had on him. The horror that crashed over him like a bucket of ice cold water, waking him so abruptly from his sleep. At your pain. Your agony. It nearly destroyed him the way it had been destroying you.

Eris pushes you gently to sit while he uses his shirt to wipe your blood off, frowning to himself when he can still hear the irregular beat of your heart. Too engrossed in cleaning your injury, he fails to catch on that the fluttering rhythm of your heart is now stirred by an entirely different source.

His expression transforms into one of genuine surprise as he encounters the gentle skin of your palm. Untouched, unmarked. His gaze flickers back to the shattered pieces of glass by the foot of your bed and then back to your hand. There’s no way. Not even with your healing abilities as a high fae. The amount of blood he had seen, the stinging he had felt through the bond–

“I told you it was fine.”

“But you’re not.” Eris counters and sucks in a sharp breath. “Angel–”

“Neither are you.” You point out, deftly redirecting the focus from yourself.

Your glistening eyes, pools of concern, flicker toward him. Toward his chest, where scars from injuries that had not healed properly and lingering bruises taint the muscles beneath, painting an alarming image.

Eris averts his gaze, withdrawing slightly, reluctant to confront the vulnerability of the moment. Though your touch is gentle, the softest caress, his entire body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation. Your palm presses against a nasty scar that runs down the length of his abdomen, making him shudder at the memory it came from.

You suspect the answer but you can’t stop yourself from asking anyway. A blend of hurt and anger seeps through your voice. “Who did this to you?”

Eris stands abruptly, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires–of longing to bask in the warmth of your touch and the simultaneous impulse to flee from it. “You should go to bed,” he says, voice strained. “Get some sleep.”

You stand up as well. “But I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Eris, please,” you nearly beg and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. He watches as you walk over to your chair, retrieving the coat he let you borrow. You extend it toward him–a silent promise you won’t push him further on his scars. “We can talk about other things.”

He feels his throat tighten at the urgency in your eyes. “Like what?”

"Like…" Your voice trails off, your attention turning to the scattered items on your desk. "Embroidery?" you suggest, showing him one of your unfinished projects. It’s an outline of a yellow flower he has seen before but cannot recognize at the moment.

"You want to talk about...embroidery?" His tone lightens, a subtle easing of tension as he slips into his coat and watches you raise another one. Unlike the first one you showed him, this one is finished and beautifully depicts a white horse with a brown mane and tail.

“This one is of my horse,” you share with pride, a subtle smile gracing your face. The warmth in your expression acts as an irresistible pull for Eris, compelling him to sit back down. "His name is Maximus.”

"I think I miss him the most," you add, the smile on your face faltering.

It prompts Eris to speak–to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful.”

Your smile, like the sun breaking through clouds, brightens once more. You’re beautiful, he wants to add.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Even though he knows he should leave, he finds himself nodding. Because the prospect of your smile faltering, of you returning to your state from earlier becomes an unbearable thought.

He secures a glamor in your room to keep the guard outside your door from hearing you. Having spent centuries studying the wards in every room, he’s learned how to unravel some pieces of them. Eris allows you to teach him the craft of embroidery. He tries to take in every instruction of yours and finds himself not lost in the craft but lost in the light in your eyes, the delightful curve of your smile as you speak.

As the daughter of a powerful and influential merchant, you’ve stayed in every court and have so many captivating stories to tell. You speak so highly of your father that he doesn’t have it in him to tell you about his dark truth–the real reason behind your arranged marriage. The delicate pricks of the thin needle against his fingers go unnoticed, drowned out by the melody of your laughter, which proves irresistibly contagious. The bond in his chest hums with a resonance that echoes through his being. He wonders, a smaller part of him fervently hoping, if you can feel it too.

Eris stays until your voice trails off–until the heaviness of your eyelids becomes an insurmountable burden, causing you to slump against the softness of the pillows. The temptation to tenderly brush your hair back from your face is strong, but he restrains the impulse.

“Eris?” Your voice, laced with the soft tendrils of sleep, reaches him.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The word—friends—sends a pang through him, but nevertheless, he manages a gentle "yes," reluctant to shatter the moment by uttering the truth that lies beneath the surface of his emotions. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than just your friend.

A soft content hum comes from you, the only response you can manage. Mindful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, he beckons one of the blankets from your bed with his magic before carefully draping it over your curled up form at the window nook. He quietly draws the curtains shut, shielding you from the intrusion of the rising sun. He positions the embroidery hoop, adorned with the laughable but endearing image of the heart he crafted, beside you. He turns to leave but sneaks one last glance at you. Only then does he allow himself to truly smile.

Eris does not return the following night, even though he desperately wants to. Caution dictates his actions, a week elapsing before a clandestine note passed in the hallway signals his quiet return to your room. It’s during this second visit that he inevitably gives away the hidden door in your room. They lead to the house’s secret tunnels, one only Eris knows well. He promises you to take you through them one day.

It’s half past twelve and as the autumn winds blow outside your window, you're not alone this time. Eris is there with you, weaving conversations that never seem to run dry. An unspoken agreement unfolds–to keep your growing friendship hidden and away from everyone. He continues to sneak into your room, always warning you beforehand as to not scare you. The sacrifice of sleep on these nights becomes inconsequential, for both you and him.

Eris helps you chase your shadows away, taking you through the darkness to the break of the day. Your man after midnight. The soul that heard your prayer.

A wrought-iron table, nestled under a cascading canopy of amber leaves, holds an exquisite spread of breakfast delicacies. The air is laced with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that surround you. Lady Autumn, whose name you learned is Raelynn, sits across from you. Her eyes, as deep as the autumnal twilight, reflect warmth back at you–no traces of the lingering sadness you’ve witnessed before in this moment.

“My apologies, my dear, for not inviting you to breakfast sooner.” Even her voice is as warm as her gaze. “I know this court is not an easy one to adjust to.”

You find yourself smiling in reassurance back at her. Because you understand. If you were her, you’d also be wary of any newcomer.

“Eris tells me you enjoy embroidery?” Lady Raelynn says, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she brings her cup to her mouth. “Among other things.”

“I do,” you answer politely, gaze drifting to the perfectly tended lawn across from the patio you sit at. Targets for archery are neatly arranged. There’s an arrow embedded into the bull’s eyes of every one of them.

Lady Raelynn follows your gaze. “Are you interested in archery?”

Yes, you want to say and though you find comfort in Lady Autumn’s presence, you're wary of her reaction. What if she deems it unlady like? And decides to forgo any relationship you’ve desperately clung to the hope to?

“I don’t know much about it,” you reply, choosing a diplomatic response.

“I can teach you.” Lady Raelynn’s smile morphs into a grin. A gasp escapes you, and realization slowly etches itself into your features. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” she laughs, her words sparking hope within you.

“Good morning mother, I’ve come to–” Both of your heads turn to find Eris. He halts mid-sentence, his gaze locking with yours, a flicker of surprise and something deeper dancing in his eyes. It has you averting your gaze with a slight warmth tinting your cheeks. “I should leave.”

“No, stay,” Lady Raelynn insists with a graceful incline of her head. With a wave of her hand, a plate full of food materializes at the empty spot between you and her, a silent invitation for Eris to join.

Eris bows his head at his mother, acknowledging her command. He takes his place at the table, his movements a bit awkward at first. As he settles in, he can't help the warming relief that washes over him at the sight of both you and his mother taking his advice. He remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, choosing to chime in only when necessary. He’s content to bask in the soothing cadence of your conversation with his mother, indulging in stolen glances at you that linger.

Something that does not go unnoticed by his keen mother nor the way his grip tightens around his fork at the mention of your upcoming wedding.

Lady Raelynn didn’t mean to spoil the mood but she had taken it upon herself to help you plan the ceremony and reception. Albeit, reluctantly at first. That all changed after getting to know you better. Although the marriage would not be to the man of your dreams, she was now determined in ensuring that the wedding would be. It was the least she could do for you, especially after learning about the mistreatment you had endured at the hands of her sons.

“I hope my son is treating you well?” Lady Raelynn asks you, carrying a note of concern. Her observant eyes catch the brief exchange between you and Eris, not missing the slightest tint that graces his cheeks. At least one of them is. She suppresses a smile as she awaits your answer.

“Sawyer is…” your voice trails off hesitant because he’s barely spoken to you since the incident. One of the rare occurrences being where he randomly met you in the library. He had reluctantly engaged in conversation with you, awkwardly asking what you missed the most from home. A spark of optimism brightens your tone because for once, you do have something good to say about him.

“He is actually arranging for my horse to come here! It’s silly but my horse was my biggest companion back home and I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently.”

“It’s not silly at all, my dear. Once your horse is here, let's arrange for a morning ride. The Autumn grounds are the most peaceful in the early hours."

Your smile reflects the gratitude in your heart as you look at Lady Autumn. She, in turn, observes her son, who raises his tea to his lips, attempting to conceal the small smile playing on his face. It does nothing to mask the gleam in his eyes. Lady Raelynn is well aware that the sweet gesture is not Sawyer's doing. It's Eris's.

a/n: sooo I'm literally just going with vibes for this series (vibes to songs as that is what inspires most of these.) I wanted to write a slow burn but tbh, I think I'm too impatient for that 😂

When it comes to Sawyer, I do want to explore more of his character. I know that in canon, the Vanserras are menaces but I'd like to hope there's at least one more redeeming brother. I feel like him and reader can fall into a relationship similar to that of Rhaenyra and Laenor from House of Dragon. I also am still stuck between having the marriage actually go through or something drastic that happens that keeps it from happening. Either way, it will be angsty. I left some references in this from a movie that may prompt for more references from said movie. Any guesses? 👀

tagging: @fxckmiup

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris imagine #eris one shot #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar one shot #acotar!abba #eris vandaddy #eris angel au

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deusvervewrites · 3 months

Note

Start Again AU: It’s gonna be hilarious when Eri realizes that she accidentally saved the world.

Well, hilarious for the readers, anyway.

Eri: “Hey… Grandpa?”

Gramps: “Yes, my little angel?”

Eri: “… I miiight have, kinda, changed the past just a bit more than I thought.”

Gramps: “Oh? And what sort of trouble are we looking at now?”

Eri: “Uh… less? I seem to have kinda sorta accidentally… stopped the apocalypse?”

Gramps: “Oh.”

Eri: …

Gramps: “Well, I think that calls for some ice cream, to celebrate a future where Japan doesn’t burn to the ground.”

Eri: “I guess so?”

Yeah that's certainly going to be an awkward conversation to have. On the bright side, they've been following The Boss's whole chivalry thing so it's not like the effort was wasted or anything

#asks #start again au

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perexcri · 11 months

Text

si vis amari, ama

part i: memento homo, quia pulvis eris et in pulverem reverteris

[remember, man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return]

There’s a monster with gaping jaws in Mike’s chest, and it is desire; there’s a prophetic oblivion calling his name, and it is want. Both are the root of sin, and both have dug deep into his guts and veins and ink-black blood.

Will, however, seems to waver in that gray space between good and evil, virtue and sin: even his appearance marks this, with his hair that flickers between dark chocolate and ruddy blond in his light, eyes a dark brown spiked through with crushed bits of bright green, skin tanned to a nice shade contrasting with the iridescent light of his tattoos. In his strict adherence to the ways of the Holy One, he’s somehow managed to fall a bit from grace, and the messages he gives, though mixed, are comforting to Mike.

You are not beyond redemption, he seems to say with each meeting and conversation and glint in his eyes, and I am not beyond sin.

Or: After being forced to tend to souls in the wasteland between Heaven and Hell, Mike is given a mission: deceive an angel into leading him to the gates of Heaven.

part 1/7 of the bday gift for my dearly beloved @cherryisgone is here :D it’s got all kinds of fun things: angel/demon au, enemies to lovers, some ineffable husbands vibes, a self-indulgent amount of religious imagery, and, of course, lots of stuff i wrote in the middle of church!!

i’ll be posting once a day until it’s all done (because if Will Byers got a week-long celebration in this fandom then am i definitely gonna make sure my friend gets a week-long celebration too 😌✨), so expect to see more of this popping up in the coming days~

[and shout out to this angel!Will fanart by @byleranalysis that really kick-started my inspiration for this fic!!]

#byler fic #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #angel/demon au #si vis amari ama #cherryweek #cherry my beloved 💜

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azsazz · 11 months

Text

Absolute Angst Masterlist:

The Nature of Things

The Games We Play (Part 2) [Fluff, Fight, Makeup]

Horrors of Hewn City

Rough Terrain (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) [Enemies to Lovers, Smut]

Come Back [Daddy!Az]

Just Hold On

Haunt

Walk Away (Part 2) [Breakup, Makeup]

Burning Man [Daddy!Az]

What Lies Ahead (Part 2) (Deleted Scene) (Deleted Scene 2) (Deleted Scene 3) [Enemies to Lovers]

Bitter [Enemies to Lovers]

Aftermath [Angst]

Quisling (Part 2) [Angst]

You Too [Daddy!Az, Daddy!Rhys, Daddy!Cass]

Truth–Teller & Soul–Stealer

Not Me

Run Into Trouble(Part 2) [Longing]

The Truth I Can’t Tell (Yet)[Pining]

Thawing A Frozen Heart [Pining]

Not the Same But Closer Than You Think [Young!Az, Friends]

Concord [Daddy!Az]

Snatched [Daddy!Az]

Goldenrod [Sexual Tension, Exes]

Cupid’s Chokehold (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)[Enemies to Lovers]

Warrior Status [Daddy!Az]

The Safeguard [Daddy!Az]

Nightlight (Part 2) (Part 3 - Coming Soon) [Vanserra!Reader]

Lips of an Angel (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4 – Coming Soon) [Sad Boy Weekend, AU!Wren]

Can We Just Stay Here? [TW: Mental Health]

All the Words We Cannot Say [MC deaths]

Alone (Part 2) (Part 3 - Coming Soon)

Winter Winds [Daddy!Az]

Bloody Knuckles and the Songs of Death (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5 – Coming Soon)

You Keep Me Sharp and Test My Worth in Blood [Vampire!Azriel]

Whispers in the Wind [Tamlin's Sister!Reader, Angst, Fluff]

A Fighting Chance

What You Made Me (Part 2)

Shattered Me

Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died [Smut, Hate-Fucking]

Ace of Hearts [Modern!Cassian]

Tonight I'm So Lonely [Rhysand's Sister!Reader]

Trying to Forget It

Torment

Destination Unknown

Promised to Another [YA!Rhys]

Run Baby Run [Vampire!Rhys]

Safe Haven (Part 2)

Fire & Water (Part 2) (Part 3)

Better Left Unsaid

You Know I Always Liked Playing with Fire [Smut, TW: slight masochism, slight sadism]

The Autumn Chill

Live for Tonight

The Other Woman [Longing]

My Happy Ending

Wrong Side of the Right Coin (Part 2) [Azriel x Eris x Reader, Smut]

The Lady of Fire and Night [Azriel x Eris x Reader, Smut, mxm reader watches]

Dismissed [Azriel x Eris x Reader]

Dead by Dawn (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14 – Coming Soon) [Azriel x Cassian x Reader, Modern Zombie AU, Smut, Slow Burn]

Bloody Hearts (Part 2) (Part 3 – Coming Soon) [Azriel x Cassian x Rhysand x Reader, Modern Mafia AU, Angst, Smut]

Cinders and Smoke [Azriel x Eris x Reader]

Torrential [Knox x Reader]

#azsazz absolute agnst #acotar #azsazz #azsazz masterlist

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kafkasmjjw · 7 months

Note

Hi :) can you recommend your top 5 moonjo/jongwoo (jongmoon?) fics?

i’m going to link my top 5 post-canon, canon divergent and aus because i’ve been in this fandom for too long to choose only 5. these aren’t ordered by preference, and i’m choosing complete fics and only one per author. please heed the tags and ratings in case any of it makes you uncomfortable!

post-canon:

origins by mslunita

Moonjo is hardly protected by tissue; his body is rough-cut. Bone-fed. It’s easy for Jongwoo to break the skin and feel as if he’s sharpening his teeth on the skeleton itself.

monsters call it love by finalizer

He looks like a statue, an impossible man cut from white marble—neat and composed and perfect. Jong-woo wants to ruin it. Poke at it, prod at it, mar it with his fingertips and his teeth. Something so perfect has no right to exist. He wants to destroy him.

since we’re feeling so anaesthetised by eris

Jongwoo flexes into the pain, fingers twitching around the phantom contours and pressure mapped out on Moonjo's throat. From somewhere almost outside himself, he says, “Would you have let me kill you?”

no angel speaks to me by gfriendly

“Want to know how I remember it?” Jongwoo asked.

if i were a carp by theletterv

“Eat me.” It’s a quick answer, and the disorientation of it just as quick. Jongwoo turns so fast it pulls something in his neck, blinks at him owlishly but the peace on Moonjo’s face never falters. “Eat you?”

special mention to 'choose happiness' by ennui_ing because their fics are absolutely stunning and a must-read. top tier characterisation.

canon divergent:

pyre by anthean

And really, why is he surprised? Jongwoo is special. He’s precious. Moonjo wants to know him inside out, skin to muscle to bone to marrow, in every way that he can. That Jongwoo wants him too only cements Moonjo’s own desire.

tender sugar by angelas

“Uhm, sorry,” Jong-woo says, “I think maybe I should lea—” “Oh,” Moon-jo intercepts. “There’s someone special in your life.”

on the seventh day we rest by SLq

“Are you lost?” Jong-woo looked up. A man stood at the bottom of the hill. He watched Jong-woo steadily, generous mouth curled in a smile.

как в старой сказке, я не знал, кто волк // i didn't know who my enemy was, just like in an old fairytale by fia_lka

“So the only way you could help me right now, ahjussi, is if you dropped on your knees right there and sucked me off instead of her. Would you do that?”

dangerous beginnings by uhlee

Honey, I like this side of you. Take what you want from me. You use me so well, jagiya. Is it good, jagi? Am I good?

AUs:

flower by mayday0329

I thought he would give up after that. But instead he smiled again, and fumbled in his pocket for something, before taking out a tung flower. It had withered a long time ago, but one could still see that it had been a startling white before. He pressed it into my hand, along with a crumpled business card. Will you come find me again, then?

do you ever feel lonely, jagiya? by sweetnsimple

“Do I make you feel lonely?” he asked. Jong-Woo opened his mouth. Swallowed and tried again. “Yes,” he said.

pray we never meet at the wrong hour of the night by mslunita (i know i said one fic per author but carli’s writing is a weakness of mine)

Moonjo laughs at the last one. “Cannibal,” he says aloud, a glint in his eyes. He clears his throat. “Well. This is quite the macabre list.” He drags his eyes from the screen back to Jongwoo. “You’re something special.”

why did it have to be you? by tooprofessional

“Are you going to punish me?” He took a step closer, slowly looking up the younger man’s frame, eventually meeting his gaze. He tilted his head to the side. “You know, for causing a scene.”

they live in the dark by vivisextion

“You know, I’ve heard supernatural presences can lower the temperature of a room…” Jongwoo shuddered. “Please don’t remind me.”

annnd that's it for the complete fics. as for wips, im currently devouring second circle of hell by reddiary. a true fucking masterpiece. and hell at your heels by an anonymous writer who should know they changed the trajectory of my life. ennui_ing's how much can you change before it's some kind of murder? has me by. the. throat. fills me with a good dose of dread every time and the characterisation is gorgeous. ANNDDDDD of course, this hotel au 'all the ghosts are in the garden', by b that is so so SO well-paced and in character it's actually insane.

#mjjw #fic recs #seo moonjo x yoon jongwoo

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princesssarisa · 20 days

Text

Opera on YouTube 6

Pagliacci

Franco Enriques studio film, 1954 (Franco Corelli, Mafalda Micheluzzi, Tito Gobbi; conducted by Alfredo Simonetto; no subtitles)

Tokyo Bunka Kaikan, 1961 (Mario del Monaco, Gabriella Tucci, Aldo Protti; conducted by Giuseppe Morelli; Japanese subtitles)

Herbert von Karajan studio film, 1968 (Jon Vickers, Raina Kabaivanska, Peter Glossop; conducted by Herbert von Karajan; no subtitles)

Franco Zeffirelli film, 1983 (Plácido Domingo, Teresa Stratas, Juan Pons; conducted by Georges Prêtre; English subtitles) – Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI

Metropolitan Opera, 1994 (Luciano Pavarotti, Teresa Stratas, Juan Pons; conducted by James Levine; Spanish subtitles)

Ravena Festival, 1998 (Plácido Domingo, Svetla Vassileva, Juan Pons; conducted by Riccardo Muti; Italian subtitles)

Zürich Opera House, 2009 (José Cura, Fiorenza Cedolins, Carlo Guelfi; conducted by Stefano Ranzani; no subtitles)

Chorégies d'Orange, 2009 (Roberto Alagna, Inva Mula, Seng-Hyoun Ko; conducted by Georges Prêtre; French subtitles)

Gran Teatre del Liceu, 2011 (Marcello Giordani, Angeles Blancas, Vittorio Vitelli; conducted by Daniele Callegari; English subtitles – ignore the silly references to Norse mythology and aliens that the translator threw in, they're not in the actual libretto)

Latvian National Opera, 2019 (Sergei Polyakov, Tatiana Trenogina, Vladislav Sulimsky; conducted by Jānis Liepiņš; no subtitles)

Die Entführung aus dem Serail

Dresden State Opera, 1977 (Armin Ude, Carolyn Smith-Meyer, Barbara Sternberer, Rolf Tomaszewski; conducted by Peter Gülke; no subtitles)

Bavarian State Opera, 1980 (Francisco Araiza, Edita Gruberova, Reri Grist, Martti Talvela; conducted by Karl Böhm; English subtitles)

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 1988 (Deon van der Walt, Inga Nielson, Lillian Watson, Kurt Moll; conducted by Georg Solti; English subtitles)

Salzburg Festival, 1989 (Deon van der Walt, Inga Nielson, Lillian Watson, Kurt Rydl; conducted by Horst Stein; no subtitles)

Théâtre du Châtelet, 1991 (Stanford Olsen, Luba Orgonasova, Cyndia Sieden, Cornelius Hauptmann; conducted by John Eliot Gardiner; French subtitles)

Vienna State Opera, 1989 (Kurt Streit, Aga Winska, Elzbieta Szmytka, Artur Korn; conducted by Nicolaus Harnoncourt; Hungarian subtitles) – Act I, Act II

Teatro della Pergola, 2002 (Rainer Trost, Eva Mei, Patrizia Ciofi, Kurt Rydl; conducted by Zubin Mehta; Spanish subtitles)

Gran Teatre del Liceu, 2012 (Christoph Strehl, Diana Damrau, Olga Peretyatko, Franz-Josef Selig; conducted by Ivor Bolton; Catalan subtitles)

Bankhead Theatre, 2018 (David Walton, Alexandra Batsios, Elena Galvan, Kevin Langan; conducted by Alex Katsman; English subtitles)

Theatro São Pedro, 2023 (Daniel Umbelino, Ludmilla Bauerfeldt, Ana Carolina Coutinho, Luiz-Ottavio Faria; conducted by Cláudio Cruz; Brazilian Portuguese subtitles)

Un Ballo in Maschera

Tokyo Bunka Kaikan, 1967 (Carlo Bergonzi, Antonietta Stella, Mario Zanassi; conducted by Oliviero di Fabritiis; Spanish subtitles)

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 1975 (Plácido Domingo, Katia Ricciarelli, Piero Cappuccilli; conducted by Claudio Abbado, English subtitles)

Teatro alla Scala, 1978 (Luciano Pavarotti, Mara Zampieri, Piero Cappuccilli; conducted by Claudio Abbado; Italian subtitles)

Metropolitan Opera, 1980 (Luciano Pavarotti, Katia Ricciarelli, Louis Quilico; conducted by Giuseppe Patané; no subtitles)

Royal Swedish Opera, 1986 (Nicolai Gedda, Siv Wennberg, Carl Johan Falkman; conducted by Eri Klas; sung in Swedish; Swedish subtitles)

Salzburg Festival, 1990 (Plácido Domingo, Josephine Barstow, Leo Nucci; conducted by Georg Solti; Spanish subtitles)

Leipzig Opera House, 2006 (Massimiliano Pisapia, Chiara Taigi, Franco Vassallo; conducted by Riccardo Chailly; English subtitles) – Part I, Part II

Teatro Regio di Torino, 2012 (Gregory Kunde, Oksana Dyka, Gabriele Viviani; conducted by Renato Palumbo; no subtitles) – Part I, Part II

Chorégies d'Orange, 2013 (Ramón Vargas, Kristin Lewis, Lucio Gallo; conducted by Alain Altinoglu; French subtitles)

Arena di Verona, 2014 (Francesco Meli, Hui He, Luca Salsi; conducted by Andrea Battistoni; no subtitles)

Cavalleria Rusticana

Giorgio Strehler studio film, 1968 (Gianfranco Cecchele, Fiorenza Cossotto; conducted by Herbert von Karajan; no subtitles)

Metropolitan Opera, 1974 (Franco Tagliavini, Grace Bumbry; conducted by John Nelson; no subtitles)

Franco Zeffirelli film, 1983 (Plácido Domingo, Elena Obraztsova; conducted by Georges Prêtre; no subtitles)

Ravenna Festival, 1996 (José Cura, Waltraud Meier; conducted by Riccardo Muti; Italian subtitles)

Ópera de Bellas Artes, 2008 (Alfredo Portilla, Violeta Dávalos; conducted by Marco Zambelli; Spanish subtitles)

Zürich Opera, 2009 (José Cura, Paoletta Marrocu; conducted by Stefano Ranzani; no subtitles)

Chorégies d'Orange, 2009 (Roberto Alagna, Beatrice Uria-Monzon; conducted by Georges Prêtre; French subtitles)

Gran Teatre del Liceu, 2011 (Marcello Giordani, Ildiko Komlosi; conducted by Daniele Gallegari; Spanish subtitles)

Mikhailovsky Theatre, St. Petersburg, 2012 (Fyodor Ataskevich, Iréne Theorin; conducted by Daniele Rustioni; English subtitles)

Vienna State Opera, 2019 (Younghoon Lee, Elina Garanča; conducted by Graeme Jenkins; English subtitles)

#opera #youtube #complete performances #pagliacci #die entführung aus dem serail #the abduction from the seraglio #un ballo in maschera #cavalleria rusticana #ruggero leoncavallo #wolfgang amadeus mozart #giuseppe verdi #pietro mascagni

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