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historiaxvanserra · 2 months

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These Violent Delights | Chapter Two

Summary: A High Lords meeting goes awry and you find yourself thrust into the foxes den.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)

Word Count: 6.4k

Chapter 1 of These Violent Delights on my Masterlist

The Hewn City’s state rooms are ugly, you think as you stalk the emissary of the Night Court through the winding, narrow corridors of Hewn City. The palatial chambers had been carved into the dark stone of the mountain by the Gods of old; and the high, domed ceilings are held in place by onyx pillars decorated with twisted carvings of beasts and fornicating demi-gods that line the Gothic archways.

Lurid, ill-fated omens, you think.

Harbingers of your undoing.

The emissary appointed with escorting you is adorned in ceremonial robes; a fine damask tunic in a deep indigo silk that is almost iridescent in the artificial light. You fall into step with him as he approaches a set of gilded iron gates. Two armored sentries fall into rank as you cross the threshold of the council chambers and you offer a courteous nod to the sentry as he meets your eye.

The antechamber of The Moonstone Palace is plunged in a suffocating blue-darkness with only the silvers of silver faelight, like artificial stars, to light the faces of the High Lords. The atmosphere is oppressive and the smell of hemlock and moonflowers stain the stagnant air. For a few moments, while you’re lost in thought, the world is silent and still. Feigning peace. But there is no peace. Not here, where the eyes of every High Lord in Prythian are upon you.

Hewn City is a dark mirage. A metropolis of hedonistic desire and vulgar frivolity

It is here in the dark that you find yourself adrift; lost somewhere to the sea of time. You abandon yourself to the tide of memory. The happy recollections of your childhood; to the thought of home. Someplace far from here, where the sunlight touches your skin and the smell of salt from the coast becomes tangled in your unbound hair. Somewhere, in the recesses of your mind, where you know your mothers love and your fathers face is something more than a mere memory.

It occurs to you that this is a home that never existed.

Home had always been burning; the acrid smell of woodsmoke beckons you like a funeral pyre and your salt-cracked lips chafe and bleed in the wake of blistering winds from the violent sea. And that’s the thing about mothers, you and she exist as some wretched mirror or one another; as hatred and guilt.

You’ve been thinking of your mother a lot as of late; something in your dreams, the echoing of a coming storm. A fine line between love and hate. It is something strange and prophetic that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably from your body.

In a flurry of movement against the black you are brought back to the present as you take your place amongst the ranks of the Inner Circle.

The silhouettes of the other High Lords, that had been flickering wildly against the dark stone of the mountain, cease to move. Cease to be, as shadows envelop the room, melting into the darkness as Rhysand glides into the room his violet eyes glinting in the dark. His eyes shine with a cold violence that draws you from thought and the visions of a home long forgotten turn to ashes in your trembling hands. He’s dressed all in black and violet, his tan skin looks pallid in the low light. By his side Feyre’s skin looks as though it is wreathed in starlight against the backdrop of the twilight-- you catch the scent of chamomile and moondust in the air.

It smells like Nyx you think, smiling lightly to yourself at the thought of your nephew.

A tremor of dark power ripples through the air and you feel the shift in the atmosphere when shield after shield locks into place around each High Lord and his retinue of courtiers. The shield that Rhysand had already placed around the Inner Circle; made stronger in response. Night magic glitters in the air like stardust and you swear you can taste it on your tongue. That same cold rage and an essence of icy violence fortifies you against the hostility in the room and you school your expression to remain neutral when you seek out a pair of strange amber eyes in the crowd.

A gentle warmth burns though your chest and your eyes scan the crowd.

Eris Vanserra moves like a predator; resolute and obstinate. Amber eyes burn like fire glow in the dim light and each of his long strides are punctuated by the echo of boot clad feet on the marble. In this light, his face is almost ethereal. Unearthly even. Set in a painfully neutral expression as he slinks through the halls of the city below the mountains of Velaris. Eris Vanserra burns bright against the other Lords of Pryhtian; his copper hair, like burnished gold in the dim lights, and his eyes. Those fucking eyes. Haunting and evocative as he meets your gaze with a feline smirk.

It is a wicked, false thing, that glitters with malice.

He watches you with a wrathful sort of reverence. He is so very lovely, even in the pallid light. Even as his father and brothers flank his sides like a pack of hungry foxes; hungry and baying for blood.

You watch him carefully as Eris takes his seat at the foot of the large black table, he’s careful to make a show of the way he languidly reclines in his chair, rolling his shoulders back and angling his hips in such a way that the whole room is displayed to him at once.

It’s almost voyeuristic in nature.

That summons a storm within you; a violent, lonely, sort of thing, that washes over him with the force of a raging tempest down the scarcely accepted bond and his eyes, glittering and amber in the dying light, finding yours again. For a moment, Eris Vanserra sees himself through your eyes; for the first time in centuries he doesn’t hate the man staring back at him.

By his side Eris’ mother’s skin looks as though it is wreathed in fireglow against the backdrop of the twilight-- you catch her dark glassy eyes and she smiles softly at you. There is a deep sorrow there, in the depths of The Lady of Autumn's eyes, that feel kindred to you.

A shared pain, perhaps.

Turning as Rhysand and Feyre push further into the darkness of the antechamber, you are drawn from thought once more.

The rest of The Night Court look like some savage celestial army as they enter on a night-kissed breeze. Cassian and Nesta look like warriors hardened by war and ruin, all dressed in black and faces coloured with cold caution. They’re followed by the Shadowsinger, who is shrouded in dark wisps of shadow and his skin glows golden against the dark. His face is set in an unreadable expression, though, when your eyes meet a flash of recognition flashes in those hazel eyes.

Rhysand stops dead in his tracks when he regards the High Lord of Autumn.

Beron Vanserra; cruel and tyrannical, keens when he notes the flash of surprise in Rhysand’s violet gaze. His eyes simmer with a dim fire as his eyes land on you. Beron’s teeth are like crow-picked bones as he offers you a feral smile.

“We weren’t expecting you, Beron.” Feyre’s voice is distant and cold as she speaks to the High Lord and his sons.

Rhysand rises to his feet from his throne, waving his hand to the attendants, “Fetch the High Lord and his Lady a seat.”

The attendant presents Beron with a chair and he settles between Helion and the Lady of Autumn, neither Helion nor the lady seem to acknowledge each other but you can feel the shift in their demeanors as Beron’s ire sparks in his eyes. He doesn’t even spare The Lady of Autumn a glance before he moves on to inspecting his fellow High Lords.

You pay Beron no heed and instead your eyes find the Lady of Autumn as she settles into her seat beside her husband and eldest son. The Lady of Autumn is like one of Feyre’s paintings; arresting and darkly beautiful. Her romantic eyes are shaded in the colors of sunset; a warm amber that looks almost golden in the low light and her dark auburn hair glitters in the dying fireglow and her eyes-- so rich that you get lost in their glassy depths. Those haunting eyes. They’re Eris’ eyes you realize as they meet yours. Though she doesn’t linger long she gives you a soft smile before returning her gaze to her long slender fingers that twitch in her lap. They’re adorned with many gold rings and crystals that she wears like armor to fortify her against the hostile atmosphere.

You see something of yourself in her you think, looking down to your own attire. An opulent and finely boned corset, cinched so tight, that even breathing feels like a luxury and the heavy black damask that covers you in swathes of pleated fabric acts as barrier between yourself and the many eyes in the room that trail over you without care or warning.

“Nor was I expecting to be here,” Beron drawls, “But alas, it seems we have business to discuss.” Beron’s fire rages dangerously against the black. Torrid and angry, his face unflinching and cruel as he turns his gaze upon Rhysand. Something treacherous passes between the two High Lords at that moment and something in your chest begins to stir like a storm inside of you.

A warning of a coming storm.

“Rumor claims that your allegiances are elsewhere, these days.” It is your voice that counters and Beron croons. The High Lord of Autumn assesses you keenly, his gaze shifting-- from the darkness of your eyes-- down. To the sulk of your lips. Further still to the exposed slope of your shoulders and coming to rest on your chest, where the swell of your breasts spills over the corseted bodice of your gown. His eyes darken luridly as his eyes meet yours again. Beron Vanserra scrutinizes every minute detail of your dark armor; every errant hair, every nervous twitch of your jaw, every flutter of your dark lashes.

It’s disarming the smile that spreads across his handsome face and his eyes shine with a maniacal sort of joy that sparks a wave of fury that runs through you like water-- and you swear you can feel Eris’ own fiery rage in answer.

“And what would you know of my allegiances, girl?” The false smile he offered is soon replaced with a deep loathing in Beron’s eyes that practically burns through you.

In a way, it feels strangely comforting to feel his ire.

To feel anything at all that isn’t paralyzing dread or hirearth for a home to which you will never return.

Helion waves a scar-flecked hand in front of him, “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

The High Lord of Day glows with the radiance of the golden sun and he looks at you with such a strange mixture of boredom and curiosity that almost seems like reverence. He doesn’t dare look at The Autumn Lady in her seat though you notice the careful glances she makes towards him in those spaces between the seconds when no one is paying much heed.

“I know you met with rhe Prince of Rask.” you say and all the idle chatter in the room dies at once. “And he’s working with the Koschei, isn’t he?”

Beron opens his mouth and you brace yourself for the torrid flames of his wrath. You see the violent delight dance across Beron’s eyes and Rhysand just holds his stare. Hold it with a face like icy death. And beneath the surface you see untempered wrath as it ripples beneath his carefully curated mask. A sharp pain in your chest has you seeking out Eris at his father’s side. His face is the picture of cataclysmic rage; writhing and burning in those eyes.

To anyone else Eris Vanserra is the image of infernal rage. A righteous son to a wronged father. But to you-- all his fear comes home to you.

A warning fire.

“Never mind, we can discuss the happy news of your heir’s birth another time,” Beron smiles again at Rhysand and Feyre. It is Feyre who regards him with a snarling fury at the mention of the son she had almost died to bring into the world.

She would give her life again if only to protect him from the clutches of a tyrant like Beron. Of that you were certain.

“I believe we have business to discuss?” Beron questions again when no one responds to his taunt.

All the eyes in the room turn to you when you loose a laugh, “I didn’t realize we were in the business of discussing plans with our enemies.”

Eris Vanserra looks as though he might just vault over the table and silence you himself. His eyes smoulder in the dark and the scathing look he sends your way is enough to make you weak in the knees.

“Make no mistake girl,” Beron muses, his eyes sparking with feral delight, “I am not your enemy,”

“You are advised to keep it that way.”

In that moment you are bereft of every thought and sound in your mind as the room stills.

Rhysand and Feyre falter and look between you and The High Lord of Autumn-- and his heir.

Your mate.

Eris himself remains poised, his fingers wrapped around the arm of the chair, the wood straining under his cruel grip until his knuckles turn as pale as the sea foam that swirls atop the Sidra.

It is the Shadowsinger who rises from his seat in response, “Threaten her again, old man-- I dare you.” Azriel’s voice wraps round you like cold death and you can’t help but stare impassively as he places his body between yours and Beron. The flicker of flame is smothered by Azriel’s darkness.

Beron sits in his chair without so much as a word. Though you see the taunt in his eyes as he looks at you again. Azriel’s imposing figure still stands over you, a scarred hand that strokes languid circles into the skin of your shoulder. The bond in your chest hums violently.

“Call off your dog, Rhysand.” Eris’ voice is dangerously low as he eyes Azriel.

Rhys shrugs, smiling faintly “Very well,” he muses.

Azriel takes his seat beside you, though his scarred fingers remain fixed on the arm of your chair.

“Tell me, Azriel?” Eris laughs coldly, his voice devoid of any humor and he opens his mouth to speak, “Does it pain you knowing that both of your brothers have been given a sister as a mate?”

“And yet the Mother still deems you unworthy of a Mate -- desitined to pity fuck the spare sister.” Eris muses with a lilt of his voice when he realizes he has the upperhand.

A twinge of heat in your chest from the bond makes your scowl deepen.

Azriel blinks at first, his face twisting in rage before rising to his feet once more, barrelling over the table with an inhuman growl. Azriel grips Eris by the lapels of his emerald tunic. Coming together in flashes of flame and smoke as they struggle against one another. Eris swings a leg over Azriel’s thigh bringing them both tumbling to the floor, while the other High Lords watch on with varying degrees of amusement and frustration on their faces.

Your face heats under the scrutiny. Unable to move or speak-- your stormy facade rendered useless as the tears begin to well in your eyes.

You are a storm-- but in the face of their wrath there is naught you can do but watch and abide.

Rhysands commanding voice cuts through Azriel’s cursing and Eris’ insults. The room falls silent as the males pull away from one another. Azriel’s nose is bloodied and his hair falls around his face in messy strands. Eris’ lip is split, spilling crimson along the column of his throat. You trace the line of scarlet as the droplets stain the neckline of his white shirt. You can hear his heartbeat as it flutters wildly. His eyes meet yours and a look of resignation and shame crosses them for a moment; obscuring the perfect amber of his gaze.

Azriel wipes his blood on his leathers; wears it like armor as he turns to Eris “Something to remember me by.”

Azriel spits the words like venom at Eris whose face radiates with a dark and fiery wrath.

Feyre looks between the two males and then to you; her face softens then as she regards you. Your hands shaking wildly, and a heartbeat like an echoing war drum, the bond in your chest singing a mournful song as it rages inside you.

You look utterly devastated.

She’s not used to seeing that kind of defeat on the face of her elder sister; the sister who had weathered so much, always headstrong and ardent, who had suffered every injustice with a straight face-- she hadn’t quite prepared herself for the type of sorrow that realization would bring with it.

Taking in the scene unfolding before you-- the descent into violence and the blood that pools like rubies at Eris Vanserra’s feet you loose a shaky breath. “Enough--enough” You wave your hands between Azriel and Eris.

The males both take a tentative step away from one another and further from you.

“Who shares my bed is of little concern, I assure you, My Lord,” You insist firstly, setting your shoulders straight and facing them now with all the stormy determination you can feign in that moment, “from what I’ve heard you yourself have quite curious bedfellows.”

Beron sneers and scoffs from his seat at the foot of the table at the insult. A lie, at that. If anyone does share Eris Vanserra’s bed they are a mystery to you.

“Preferring the company of hounds - or so I am told.” Azriel adds.

And in truth you and Azriel haven’t so much as locked eyes since that night in Hewn City. After the mating bond between you and Eris had made its home in your chest you hadn’t been able to think about anyone or anything else.

Just him. And those amber eyes.

“We are here because once more someone is threatening the tenuous peace we have established here,” Helion nods his head thoughtfully and Thesan, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal looks at you with genuine encouragement and utters his agreement. Kallias and Vivianne remain silent and imposing on the other side of the table.

“It is our duty-- our privilege-- to ensure Prythian and its people are not ravaged by war again.” You look to Kallias then, unimpressed by the needless violence that had passed but somehow enamored by your words.

“Hyburn took so much from us-- from all of us.” You say, gesturing around the table and the High Lord’s faces are all shaded in sympathy and regret for all they had lost, “and Amarantha made slaves of you all.”

You cast a glance to your sister; who had fought and died for these great men and their courts. And to Rhysand who had subjected himself to being her plaything. Something like grief flashes in those violet eyes that sparks a storm in you.

“I will not be a slave again,” You vow and you notice then how all the High Lords seem rapt withal as you speak to them, and the storm inside you rages on, “to anyone.”

The tensions around the table seem to dissipate when Helion raises a chalice and smirks fondly at you and it seems that they see you as more than a bed warmer to a dark God or the mate of some High Lord’s heir. Talons scrape menacingly along your mental shields and Rhysand’s dark presence makes itself known to you. Bed warmer? Darling you are a storm-- everyone here knows it.

A force to be reckoned with.

The rest of the meeting seems to come to pass as intended, laborious hours of negotiating and political games as you come to terms with each High Lord in turn. By the time the moon hangs in the sky like cut quartz, almost all of the High Lords have already departed, leaving only The High Lord of Spring and The Autumn Court’s entourage.

“Where did you find this one, Rhysand?” Tamlin asks, his tone measured and light.

Rhysand looks between Feyre and you smiling lightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he opens his mouth to speak.

“I heard they found her in a Hyburn cell, after the war was over.” It is Beron Vanserra’s voice that cuts in, “what was left of her anyway.”

“Perhaps we should be asking where your loyalties lie?” It’s the middle Vanserra brother that speaks. His russet curls glow warm in the dim lights and his stare is cruel and malignant as he hones in on you.

“Hyburn whore” It’s whispered, accusatory, on an inhale of breath.

They way it is uttered with an air of repulsion and venom reminds you of those stories told in human villages; of woods women named ‘witch’ by those who do not understand.

People fear what they do not understand.

It seems that Fae are no different than mere mortals in that respect.

“You’d be wise to bite your tongue, brother.” Eris’s voice is a cold echo as all thought and sound eddies out of your mind. Flashes of black and gold as the visions come back to you; those days spent cowering in the darkness of your cell, your feral anger directed at any man who came too close-- all biting fury, canines and claws, and the screams they tore from your like the howling wind over a violent sea.

A fury spreads through you, taking root in the dark caverns of your chest, slowing your heartbeat to a dull aching thud as you lose yourself to it; give yourself over to the tempest of emotion that courses through you. You try to fight it as the first ebbs of that dangerous storm embrace you. Lest you surrender yourself to the tempest; let it open you up and pour out into the world in floods of ravaging power.

It brings forth a storm the likes of which the world has never seen; a thing of ugly rage.

You were born angry, your mother had told you once.

But rage is a learned thing. Your rage. It had been your mother’s first, before that it had her mothers, and her mother before her.

It is an inherited curse; a wicked and wretched thing.

It is a storm enough to drown in.

A howling wind whips around you and for a moment you are standing at a great precipice. From the cliff’s edge, peering down at a violent sea as it coils and breaks against the jagged cliff face of some distant shore, where the world looks as though it is dappled in fireglow, the smell of woodsmoke and bonfires wafts from inland. The sea-soaked wind is so palpable that you taste its salt-kiss on your lips with the ardent fervor of the most savage lover.

There is something sacred in salt, you think.

For a moment you consider what it would feel like; to plummet into the watery abyss. How the sunlight would look as it fractures and splinters on the water's violent surface.

How it might cascade into the murky green depths. A secret held between you and the sea.

“My Lady,” It is Eris’ voice, practically feral and dripping with an aching desperation as he all but vaults around the corner of the dark wood table, parting his brothers with a rehearsed type of brutality as he claws his way to you. His commanding aura draws you closer to him and his pale hand offers a strong and comforting weight on your arm as he takes your trembling palm in his rough hold.

“You’re bleeding,” Eris says, cupping your palm into a fist with his own, applying light pressure to the wound while he assesses it. Turning it over in his tentative grasp. Through your lashes you take a moment to assess him as he towers over you. He’s tall and much broader than you remember but he moves with an inhuman grace. His nose is long and straight and his jaw strong and regal. His amber eyes linger dangerously over the hand cupped in his own. You hadn’t even realized you had stood up. Nor had you registered the blood you had drawn from your own palms until you see the crescent moons, indented in the tender flesh, like a taunt as they stain Eris’ fingertips scarlet as he presses the fabric of his handkerchief to your grazed hand.

“It’s nothing, My Lord,” You say softly, your voice low and you feel his eyes burning into yours; it is a slow, searing ache that almost feels like a kiss. A fragile thing, full of reverence and a strange tenderness. A vein of hurt throbs through you, quickly soothed by the press of his palm to yours.

Eris Vanserra holds a power over you; commands you in a way that should feel unpleasant. The knowledge that you would give yourself over to him if only he asked.

“It is only a little blood.” The words live and die on tongue, they fizzle out just as soon as they are uttered before he is calling for Rhysand -- his voice is swallowed by the din and your heartbeat echoes like a wardrum in your ears and the sound of the violet sea breaks against you and you feel your body go lax.

You wait for the dull ache as your body meets the cool marble of the floor only it never comes; instead your weight is suspended in the embrace of Eris Vanserra’s arms, you vaguely hear your name from his lips before the world turns to darkness.

You feel like lull of his heartbeat as he brings you closer against his chest.

The smell of cedar and smoked bergamot follows you into the abyss.

The room seems to come back to you like the tide; swiftly and cruelly as it materializes before you. It comes back in flashes of the dark; the oppressive pillars of dark marble that hold the domed, onyx ceiling in place, the silver fae lights like pallid stars and the visage of contorting demons and chimera’s like half formed ghosts.

“What happened?” You ask looking around the darkened council chambers; once filled with the idle chatter of courtiers and High Lord’s and their entourage now only the Inner Circle is gathered in the darkness contained between these walls.

And Eris.

He burns golden against the black.

“Well one thing is for certain,” It is Morrigan who stands over you, her shoes shine like rubies in the low light, “You know how to make a scene.” Her voice is light and jovial, laced with concern.

“You fainted,” Feyre says plainly as she sinks to her knees before you. It is then you feel Eris’ solid frame as he radiates warmth behind you, where you are propped against his chest. Your body feels foreign and unlike your own as you move, transferring your weight from his arms and into the arms of Feyre who helps you stand on uncertain feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say earnestly to both Rhysand and Feyre and turning to Eris again to mutter your thanks. He looks displeased at that. The distance between your body in his, the unfamiliarity you regard him with as if you hadn’t just allowed yourself to revel in the feel of his arms wrapped securely around you. “I’m sorry.”

“You should return to your father, My Lord.” You laugh humorlessly, using the hand that isn’t wrapped tightly around the lip of the chair to smooth a hand down the pleats of your gown reflexively.

A knock, resounding and resolute echoes through the chamber and the Inner Circle seem to bristle at the intrusion. Through the blanket of the dark a figure emerges; Keir stands tall with an air of arrogance about him as he steps into the antechamber. His hair is dark and graying and his face, though handsome, has begun to show signs of age. His eyes glitter menacingly as he finds you amongst the inner circle.

“My apologies for the intrusion, High Lord.” Keir says, his voice full of dark promise as a second figure steps from the shadow, “but it appears there is a rather urgent matter that has come to our attention.”

The rooms seems steeped in solemn silence as Beron Vanserra reveals himself through the din; dressed in fine merlot robes and embroidered with gold threads and leaves. He looks like Autumn personified. All fire and wrath as he stalks into the room.

“It appears you have been keeping secrets from me, Rhysand.” Rhys takes a step forward approaching Beron with little regard for the fury that burns behind his hazel eyes. The High Lord of Night laughs cruelly as Beron advances further into the room, seeking out his son, who reaches for you almost without thinking. His fingers flex around your forearm and push you further into Feyre as he steps in front of you both subtly.

Beron looks suspiciously between the three of you.

Beron smiles.

It is not a thing of fondness or affection-- It is dark and laden with malevolence. A whisper of amusement lights in his golden irises and Eris feels like a boy again; alone and afraid as the shadows of his fathers wrath descend upon him.

“You knew,” The High Lord of Autumn charges forward, tearing through Azriel and Cassian, as he raves. His voice is dangerously low and full of malice as he advances towards Eris. His eyes blaze against the dark as he casts his wicked gaze upon his eldest son.

“You knew,” He repeats frantically, “That whore is your mate, and you lied to me.”

Accusatory.

Without thought or care, Eris lunges forward and takes one long stride so that his body shields yours from Beron’s grasp as his fire burns vengeful and angry as it bands around Eris’s arms. The putrid smell of burned flesh brings bile rising in your throat and you feel Rhysand’s shields fortify around you and the rest of the Inner Circle in response.

You wait for someone to do something, but as is the nature of these things Rhysand is not permitted to interfere in the affairs of other courts. And whether he likes it or not, Eris is subject to his High Lord and father.

And as it stands he is a traitor to both.

Eris falls to his knees before you and you feel the bond die in your chest; his scream is something akin to dying. It sears through you, burning like fire until you feel like a phoenix rising from its own ashes as your body moves of its own volition.

“Stop, stop!” You plead with Beron advancing a pace towards him as you pull away from Feyre’s secure hold. Not even Cassian dares hold you back when you claw your way from the safety of his arms, “Please, he didn’t know.”

Beron pays you no heed as his wrath brings Eris to his knees.

“Please.” you beg, your voice aching and angry as you address the High Lord, ignoring the warnings of Azriel and Cassian, “He didn’t know.”

“W-we hid it from him.” Your lie desperately, your voice though strained comes out in violent waves of anger as Beron continues to inflict his fire upon Eris.

Your mate.

In a desperate bid to spare him you beg once more.

“Please, whatever you want, you can have it, I swear it.” And all the fire ceases.

Eris heaves a heavy breath and he collapses in a swath of burnished gold and emerald, strewn lazily against the marble. You sink to your knees beside him, his hands, though shaking, are firm against you as they grasp at the many layers of your skirts as he hoists himself up. Even on his knees he towers over you. His hair drapes like spidersilk over one side of his sculpted face as he peers down at you with dark amber eyes. Despite all the eyes in the room Eris brings a tentative hand to cup your cheek and all his remorse and grief flood down the bond that runs golden and brilliant from your body to his; as if to say no use hiding now, little fox.

Eris rises to his feet before his father who looks on with a mixture of feral delight and complete apathy as Eris’ pain subsides.

Keir retreats into the shadows and with him the air shifts; the room, once shaded in the smell of hemlock and moonflowers, is tainted with something more. Something darker. Earthy.

The smell of wildflowers; smoke-kissed juniper and foxglove, all undercut with the smell of salt and iron.

It occurs to you then that it is the smell of your mating bond.

Beron loses a dark laugh and approaches you slowly, like a predator circles its prey. Deliberate and calculating as he takes your chin in his bony fingers and commands you to look at him. His eyes are much darker than Eris’, so dark that they almost look black in this light and even in his age you admire their depths, haunting and arresting. Beron cuts an intimidating figure, you think as he flashes you a smile that is all Eris.

You sometimes forget how alike father and son are; though Eris is undoubtedly more striking; with his strange amber eyes and baring a broader physique than his father, with strong arms and shoulders and that beautiful copper hair which he had inherited from his mother.

“Anything I want?” Beron muses deathly quiet as he brings you closer to him, so close that the heat of his breath against your face causes chills to rise along the skin of your arms and neck.

“Anything, that is within my power to give.” You clarify, unwilling to be tricked into a more heinous bargain than you had prepared yourself for. Feyre protests loudly, calling your name, begging you to see reason though her pleas are useless against the thunder of your heart in your chest; like the sound of a storm rolling in from the sea.

Rhysand holds his wife by her forearms as she attempts to fight her way to your side.

A bargain offered of your own volition cannot be undone or unmade.

All that’s left to do is come to terms.

Beron smiles again, a saccharine smile that turns your stomach as his free hand cups your hip harshly, his brows rise in question and you realize how he’s looking right through you to his son who stands defeated behind you.

“And if I want you?” You swallow hard as his hand on your hip tightens to a bruising grip.

The High Lord of Night protests and a dark ripple of power separates you and Beron, you stumble backwards until you’re pressed up against the dark wood table as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Beron laughs playfully and raises his hands in mock surrender to Rhysand. Keir smiles with a sense of sick satisfaction as Beron nods for Eris to join him.

Eris joins his father on the side of the room and Beron inspects him in carefully; scrutinizes every furrow of his brow or the tick of his jaw as charred flesh gives way to pale unblemished skin.

Beron claps a hand over his son's shoulder and offers his half-hearted explanation.

Filling his ear with poison.

“Your mate has deceived you, my son; she is yours by right,” Beron preens like an over-satisfied cat, offering a wave of his hand as he gestures to you, “Is she not?”

Eris swallows thickly and through the bond you can feel his wrath as it burns silent and deadly through you. His fire burns ferocious and wild. Dark and untamed. It ignites a similar storm in the pit of your stomach as Eris regards you with feigned malice much to the appeasement of his father.

His gaze, once soft and vulnerable, is cold and predatory as he takes his time to trail over the swell of your chest and the curve of your hips like a hungry animal.

“She is,” His voice is sharp-edged as he nods impassively to his father, the glimpses of his true self now little more than a trick in the light as he adorns his facade like a suit or armor to spare him his father’s fire.

“You mean to claim her?” Eris questions pointedly. Eris’ eyes move around the room with a careful, almost pensive, precision.

He can’t pretend that he doesn’t want it. Some primal, territorial part of him wants it more than anything. It’s animalistic and carnal.

Wholly perverse.

He wants you, terribly; he aches for you in a way that he has never ached for anything.

And you want him.

But not like this.

Not as a pretty pawn to bring him to heel.

“She will do well in Autumn,” Beron says in lieu of an answer.

Rhysand and Feyre stand firm against the hostility in the room even as Beron approaches them once more. “An alliance between our two most ancient and noble courts,” Beron says in a celebratory manner, his arms outstretched in a show of arrogance, “made strong by the oaths that you will swear to my son and my court.”

“Very well, High Lord.” You acquiesce and Beron smiles as his words hit their mark

You swear that Eris could burn the city to ash then and something in him cools then under your watchful gaze; it burns blue under the surface and you can see it tempering to a cold unmoving stare cast in his father’s direction.

It’s grotesque, the anger that runs hot in his veins that sears its kiss into the place where your body and his are joined.

You seethe. A raging tempest that comes off of you in violent waves of temper that threaten to swallow the room whole. And Beron Vanserra with it. It is almost enough to bring you to your knees before him as your skin burns under his rising fury.

Your eyes meet the strange amber eyes of Eris Vanserra at his father’s side and you think then, that you will happily suffer his fire if burning always feels so profound.

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #pro eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fic #eris headcanons #eris vandaddy

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utterlyotterlyx · 5 days

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Two

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - some angst, mentions to past trauma, fluff

Part One

The crescent moon scars peered out from the neckline of your nightgown, still raised and angry, threatening to split open in the hope of having their former partners restored.

It wasn't often that they caused you pain, and if they did, you had learnt to live with it, but there was a knot twisting around the muscle there and every movement was causing you to hiss and wince. After you had managed to lift yourself out of bed, you stood braced against one of the posters of the frame, eyes closed and inhaling deeply to halt the contractions pulsing around the area and shooting down your spine.

A gentle knock pulled your attention, the swirling pain striking hard and threatening to send you crumpling to the ground, "What's wrong?" Azriel appeared at your side, no doubt hearing the deep breaths and audible whimpers from the other side of the door.

Azriel's room was across the hall from your own, a silly decision on Rhys' part when you thought about the complicated relationship you shared with the Shadowsinger. It wasn't odd for you to enter your room at any point of the day to find him splayed across your bed or sat by the window, he'd always liked the comfort of your room more than his own.

"There's a knot in my shoulder, I can feel it moving," Azriel nodded in understanding and led you to the bathroom at a pace that was comfortable to you, helping you to sit on the edge of the tub before moving to your medicine cabinet.

Azriel knew where everything was in your room, he knew exactly where you kept the expensive ointments and where you kept the cheaper ones that Cassian would 'borrow' from you unknowing to the fact that you knew full well that he took your things. All you needed to do was mutter what you wanted and his shadows would slither back and tell him, moments later he would return with the item and a warm smile on his lips.

Soon enough Azriel had returned to you, tub in hand and glancing to your clothed back, "Do you mind if I lower it a little?"

Shaking your head, you caught the straps of your gown before they fell too far and exposed your chest to him. Azriel's touch feathered over the scar, and he could clearly see the muscle spasming beneath the skin, you entire body convulsing along with it. It was usually Mor that tended to you in these situations, but you didn't mind Azriel helping at all, you had seen the most gruesome parts of one another. An angry muscle was nothing.

The cream was cold against your skin but you leaned into it and the owner of its appearance, Azriel's fingers worked meticulously, applying pressure in just the right place to bring you untold relief but also a surging amount of pain. Azriel apologised softly as his fingers worked their way into the muscle, rolling small circles into the skin and wincing with you as you hissed in pain.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," his shadows had flowed over your shoulders, hugging themselves around your neck and purring softly in your ear.

Azriel always tried his best to be mindful of your loss, going as far as to tuck his large wings behind him as much as possible when you were around despite you telling him that it wasn't an issue. It was obvious how much you missed them from when you looked at his wings, or Cassian's, or Rhys', even Feyre and Nyx weren't safe from your gaze.

A few more minutes went by of Azriel's fingers rubbing into your skin and you weren't in pain anymore, it had floated away in the abyss and you exhaled from your mouth as his hands came to rest atop your shoulders, "Thank you."

"Of course," he glanced about the bathroom, "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

The touch of his fingers were still on your bare shoulders and you could feel his gaze trailing down the thick waves of your messy morning hair to the large scars carved into your shoulders. Warmth spread across your skin as his digits lay unmoving on you and you turned your head to the side to capture his gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Pulling him from his trance, Azriel cleared his throat and took a step backward, bumping into the jagged edge of the tub with a dull thump, “Fine. Everything is fine,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how his shadows had restrained his wings, pinning them behind his back, but before you could tell him to stop, to not hide from you, he had spoke, “I should go. Rhys is sending me on a mission with Nesta.”

You stood, pulling the thin strings of your nightgown back over your shoulders as you faced him, “You and Nesta?” Your voice echoed in the large bathroom, rattling against the windowpanes that were begging to be opened to allow the sweet sonnet of Velaris to reach you, “Why both of you?”

“I can’t say,” he couldn’t say? Or he didn’t know? “I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“And to tell me to watch my mouth whilst you’re gone?”

Azriel smirked, “That too,” he wound his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, swaying softly with you in his arms, “I’ll be back soon.”

Cedar was consuming you and you swayed with him, eyes fluttered closed and enjoying the contact of his arms around you, “Be careful,” it was all you could say to make him aware that you cared, he knew that too.

Pulling back from you slightly, he looked down on you, running his thumb along the curve of your jaw, “Always am,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, where your hair met the skin, and paced from the room, his shadows fighting to stay back for one more moment with you.

It was no coincidence that Rhys had decided to send both Azriel and Nesta on a joint mission, the two people closest to you suddenly being ordered away from the Night Court. Away from you. It was unsettling to say the least. Rhys had been keeping a wary eye on you since the morning Eris had left a few days ago, he had noticed how Eris had lingered around you that night at dinner, how the High Lord had unknowingly dressed in the same colours as you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

It felt like punishment, to force you into solitude for aiding Eris at that meeting. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy spending time with the rest of your family, or that you didn’t like them, it’s just that Azriel and Nesta understood you in the deepest way possible, from the intricate ticking of your mind, to your wit, to the abuse you had suffered and the darkness that lingered inside of your soul, tainting it with its inky mist.

The entirety of Prythian, whilst they knew of you, wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd if it weren’t for your telltale eyes. It was always something that had bothered you, why exactly were you so hidden, like forbidden fruit born from a poison oak. To look at but never touch, to never be intrigued by, to never interact with unless they wished death upon themselves.

You were the last resort, the one Rhys would call upon if there was no other option. At first you believed it was because he truly wanted to keep you out of harms way, to protect you and the future of the court, but as time ticked away, it became glaringly obvious that protecting you wasn’t the reason for it at all.

Rhys was supposed to be the most powerful High Lord that Prythian had ever seen.

What would people think when they saw you, his lesser than sister unworthy of any true title, possessing power that even he found unfathomable?

Sure, Rhys could mist a portion of an army away with a lift of the finger, but you could decimate entire battlefields without even blinking if you so wished it. It wasn’t information he wanted to be common knowledge, so it wasn’t.

The reflection in the mirror was the perfect rendition of the mask you had worn your entire life, soft, elegant, naive, unknowing, it disguised the raging wildfire that consumed you daily, that begged to be unleashed, to devour the world in your fury and conform anyone who stood against you to ash.

A practiced smile fell onto your lips, your hands were neatly folded atop your form fitting plum purple skirt, and your shoulders dropped with a sigh. In that moment, as you stood before your reflection, dressed in fitted fabric of onyx and purple, did you realise how much better you looked in red.

The library had always been your sanctuary, perhaps that was the reason you and Nesta had become so close. She too sought out the comfort that only the library could provide, maybe it was the smell of worn parchment or the faint aroma of oak from the sturdy shelves, maybe it was how the light trickled through the stained glass windows or the comfort of the deep seated armchairs. Whatever it was, it definitely owned a part of you, of you both.

Nesta had found herself idly glancing at the titles on the shelves, it was the week after she had been Made, and one of the first moments she had left her bedroom since finding herself in Velaris. The eldest Archeron sister knew little of you, so little in fact that she didn’t realise you were Rhys’ sister until you told her.

You’d found Nesta in one of the many hidden pews of books, clutching a particular title between your fingers, she had looked awful back then with her hallowed cheeks and sickly pale skin, and she had commented on your inability to announce yourself, and you had told her that she better watch how she spoke to you in your home. Of course that meant that you would become close friends.

Silence swirled about you, a room that was usually rife with Nesta’s sharp humour and chatter about the books you had swapped with her was nothing but a wistful memory.

The library was off limits to everyone bar you and Nesta who came and went as you pleased, other members of the inner circle had to ask for special permission to enter the sanctuary you had made for yourselves. It was an uninterrupted space, a place of harmony and exploration.

Which is exactly why you scowled when you saw Lucien sat in your usual seat with his legs propped atop the vintage coffee table, sifting through pages of a random book he had removed from its perch without giving it much attention or care.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Lucien?”

Lucien glanced up at you then, cocking his head to the side and examining you. His mechanical eye whirred, filling the space, as his gaze narrowed in on you, “You look better in red,” his eyes moved to the space behind you which led to the open hallway with walls adorned with various portraits, namely one of yourself that Rhys had commissioned before the happenings of Amarantha, midnight purple wings and all; Lucien silently beckoned you inside with his stare and you closed the doors behind your entrance with a soft click.

Floating to the nearest open seat, a plush black armchair opposite him which homed a red wine velvet cushion, you waved your fingers and the atmosphere fell dense, “You can speak freely,” a shimmer clung to the air like speckles of glistening starlight, and Lucien knew that if anyone were to enter in search of you that they wouldn’t see anything but an empty room before their eyes.

Glamoured.

Lucien was by no means an unpleasant male to look at, he shared so many aspects with Eris, the elder brother than you could see in Lucien’s fire red hair and russet eyes, in his chiselled cheekbones and golden skin, even in the distant surveying glint in his eye. You didn’t know much about the Vanserra brother that resided in your city, but from what Feyre had told you, Lucien was trustworthy, one of the few males in the land she would always be able to count on.

Reaching into the back pocket of his deep brown briefs, Lucien held a piece of parchment before your narrowed eyes, turning it over in his fingers whilst contemplating whether or not to give it to you. Lucien knew little of you, only fragments of you from what Elain had told him in passing, but he had a feeling that you were much more than what you appeared to be. Such was obvious from the subtle notes he picked up from watching you converse with Eris a few evenings prior.

The parchment was rough under his touch, calloused paper that was singed at the edges. Lucien hadn’t dared to open it when it had appeared under his mug that morning with your name intricately scribed onto the folded surface, instead awaiting for his own note to appear, which it had moments later with strict instructions to make sure the note reached you no matter what.

“This is from Eris,” you sat up straighter in your seat, the once unbothered and passive stare now replaced with one of excited intrigue. He smirked.

Lucien held out the parchment to you, and you were ashamed at how fast you rose from your seat to claim it from your fingers. It smelt of him, of autumn pine and cinnamon, the same scent that had lingered on your skin since the morning he had left.

You sent him a sidelong glare and tried to keep your features as trained and neutral as possible, holding it lax in your fingers like you weren’t itching to flip it open and read away, “You know that Rhys would nail your balls to the wall if he knew you were giving this to me?”

Lucien hummed, grinning at you, “Yes. But something tells me that he’s not going to find out.”

Damn Lucien Vanserra and his keen eye, and damn you for allowing a sliver of your true nature to shine through for him to see.

Deep down you were a young girl in love with the idea of fated mates, of true love and happiness, of bright tomorrows and forevers, and it taken a lot of darkness to try and squash that hope that lingered within your soul. Centuries of believing that your power and name made you unlovable, to be feared only.

“What makes you think that?”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down, confirming to himself that there was no way that you would tell a soul, not even Nesta, “That hope I just saw in those eyes,” he rose from his seat and approached your position, “Perhaps it’s time for you to wake up,” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he knew something that you didn’t, many things actually.

Casting his gaze downward at the beautiful cursive rendition of your name, he spoke, “Write your response and will it back to him, it will dissipate into ash in your fingers and float to him in the wind.”

“Why have you delivered this?”

Lucien shrugged, “So many questions,” his voice trailed off, shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stepped toward the door, “Because y/n,” he turned from you, talking to you over his shoulder, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen Eris be so openly kind to, do you know how hard it is for him to apologise about anything?”

Then he was done, and the moment he stepped out into the hallway the glamour dropped and you shivered at the sensation of it.

The portrait of you stared at him and he stopped before it, drinking in the beauty of the starlit backdrop and your wildfire ringed orbs that cut through the darkness like a beacon of enveloping safety. Lucien glanced back to you, noting how you stood in the room peering down at the parchment, turning it over in your hands and thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to indulge the new High Lord, “Life has its challenges, y/n. It’s up to you to decide if they’re worth the struggle.”

He spoke from knowledge, of his own truth, “Were they worth it to you?”

Lucien smiled fondly, no doubt casting his mind to his beautiful mate that breathed life back into his weathering essence, “Very much so.”

It had taken a lot of back and forth mental arguments to bring yourself to open Eris’ note. There was a delicious foreboding about it all that made it all the more tempting, Rhys would lose the reigns of his consciousness and submit himself to his own darkness if he knew.

But Lucien was right, there was no way that you were going to tell him.

With your heartbeat thundering in your chest, you slipped your thumb between the fold and flipped the note open.

Eris’ writing wasn’t as you thought it would be, you were expecting messy handwriting with little personable tone to the words, but how wrong you were, how wrong you were when you could hear that sultry whisky deep voice linger in every neatly curved word you read.

I apologise for putting you in the position of keeping something from your family, but I had to speak to you, and this is the only way I can.

Allowing your gaze to linger on the words, the paper rustled in the breeze from the open window, like Eris had sent the element to give you a little nudge. Reaching for a pen, you scribed your reply, watching the paper engulf in contained flame and the ash dance away in the wind, just as Lucien had said.

It’s not just yourself that you’re putting in danger. Poor Lucien for becoming entangled in another scandal.

A moment passed, and another piece of parchment appeared in your lap doused in his scent.

Any danger is worth even a mere second of your time.

Even if it means pissing off the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history?

Even then. But we both know that Rhysand isn’t the most powerful, don’t we Fawn?

Butterflies pulsed in your stomach at the name, you were by no means a fawn, but the sincere softness of it made your heart clench.

If you’re alluding to yourself then I’m afraid you’re severely mistaken, High Lord.

The paper vanished, reappearing again moments later and you could have sworn you could see Eris tucked away in the office of Fir Manor, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and forest green briefs, hair tousled and smirking into the air with a quill resting between his digits.

This is perhaps the one and only time where I will happily be mistaken… and please, it’s Eris.

Do I not threaten you?

Should you?

You thought about it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that wished to be feared or appear as threatening, it was the role you had grown into, the one you had always played with little say in it, and it was like he knew that.

No, I shouldn’t.

The paper vanished and you waited a stretch for it to return, confiding yourself to staring at the starlit skies beyond the window and wonder where exactly Nesta and Azriel had been sent off to.

Where would Rhys have sent them? And why couldn’t Azriel tell you about it? Did he even know himself what the aim of his mission was? Did Nesta? Why had he chosen the two people closest to you and knowingly left you without someone to lean on?

I see the mask you wear. I see what it’s done to you. You’ve worn it for so long that you feel lost within it, as though the mask has consumed your light. I want to tell you to let the fire burn, to be yourself is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Who knew that the fox could speak with sentiment?

And, like you could hear the earthy chuckle through the inked words, you could practically hear him say,

There are many things that you don’t know about me, Little Fawn. Perhaps one day I’ll let you close enough to find out.

The ghost of his voice lingered around you, like faint whispers of a lover at sunrise.

No, you wouldn’t tell Rhys, or anyone for that matter about the oh so wrong pit burying itself into your gut, or about your nerves prickling with flaming desire.

Blood and loyalty be damned.

Authors Note

Hope you love this x

Feedback is, as always, appreciated

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh

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surielstea · 1 day

Text

Taunts and Tension

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?

Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)

2.8k words

“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.

“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.

“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.

The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.

“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.

“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.

We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.

“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.

He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.

“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.

“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.

“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?

My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.

“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.

He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.

His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.

It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.

“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.

The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.

“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.

I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.

“Well, that was quite the show,” A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.

The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.

He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.

Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.

Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.

“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.

“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.

“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.

Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.

I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.

I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.

I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.

To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.

“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin @itsbonniebabe

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 2 months

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🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in February 2024

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ We Ate the Dark by Mallory Pearson 🧡 The Paper Boys by D.P. Clarence 💛 Skater Boy by Anthony Nerada 💚 Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine 💙 A Vicious Game by Melissa Blair 💜 Clarion Call by Cayla Fay ❤️ Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman 🧡 The Absinthe Underground by Jamie Pacton 💛 Truthfully, Yours by Caden Armstrong 💙 Outsider by Jade du Preez 💜 Cross My Candy Heart by A.C. Thomas 🌈 The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

❤️ An Education in Malice by S. T. Gibson 🧡 The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles by Malka Ann Older 💛 Never a Bridesmaid by Spencer Greene 💚 The Rewind by Nicole Stiling 💙 Good Christian Girls by Elizabeth Bradshaw 💜 The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha ❤️ The Terrible by Tessa Crowley 🧡 Blood Rage by Ileandra Young 💛 Call of the Sea by Emily B. Rose 💙 Sign Me Up by C.H. Williams 💜 Ways and Means by Daniel Lefferts 🌈 Peaceful in the Dark by A.A. Fairview

❤️ We Are Only Ghosts by Jeffrey L. Richards 🧡 Dead Ringer by Robyn Nyx 💛 Somacultural Liberation by Dr. Roger Kuhn 💚 Stormbringer by Erinn Harper 💙 A Saga of Shields & Shadows by A.J. Shirley 💜 Ghost Town by R.E. Ward ❤️ I Heard Her Call My Name by Lucy Sante 🧡 The Night Alphabet by Joelle Taylor 💛 Remedial Magic by Melissa Marr 💙 Bloom by N.R. Walker 💜 Entwined by Alex Alberto 🌈 Queer Newark edited by Whitney Strub

❤️ Tristan by Jesse Roman 🧡 How to Live Free in a Dangerous World by Shayla Lawson 💛 Daniel, Deconstructed by James Ramos 💚 Of Socialites & Prizefights by Arden Powell 💙 Lost Harbor by Kimberly Cooper Griffin 💜 Hannah Tate, Beyond Repair by Laura Piper Lee ❤️ Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert 🧡 How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly 💛 Blackmailer’s Delight by David Lawrence 💙 Tile M for Murder by Felicia Carparelli 💜 Impulse Buy by Jae 🌈 Live for You, Die With You by Kalob Dàniel

❤️ Fairest of All by A.D. Ellis 🧡 Goddess of the Sea by Britney Jackson 💛 A Taste of Earth by Nico Silver 💚 The Moorings of Mackerel Sky by M.Z. Emily Zack 💙 How the Boogeyman Became a Poet by Tony Keith 💜 V is for Valentine by Thomas Grant Bruso ❤️ Crushed Ice by Ashlyn Kane & Morgan James 🧡 When Tomorrow Comes by D. Jackson Leigh 💛 Bugsy & Other Stories by Rafael Frumkin 💙 The White and Blue Between Us by Kiyuhiko 💜 Guide Us Home by CF Frizzell & Jesse J. Thoma 🌈 The Friendship Study by Ruby Barrett

❤️ Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender 🧡 Heart2Heart edited by Annabeth Albert 💛 No Time Like Now by Naz Kutub 💚 Bless the Blood by Walela Nehanda 💙 Vengeance Planning for Amateurs by Lee Winter 💜 Who We Are in Real Life by Victoria Koops ❤️ Prove It by Stephanie Hoyt 🧡 Mewing by Chloe Spencer 💛 Awakenings by Claudie Arseneault 💙 Born of Scourge by S. Jean 💜 Disciples of Chaos by M.K. Lobb 🌈 To Cage a God by Elizabeth May

❤️ Greta & Valdin by Rebecca K Reilly 🧡 What Feasts At Night by T. Kingfisher 💛 You Had Me at Merlot by Melissa Brayden 💚 Turning Point by Cathy Dunnell 💙 For the Stolen Fates by Gwendolyn Clare 💜 Season of Eclipse by Terry Wolverton ❤️ These Haunted Hills by Jana Denardo 🧡 Samson & Domingo by Gume Laurel III 💛 Lies that Bind by Rae Knowles & April Yates 💙 We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller 💜 The Diablo's Curse by Gabe Cole Novoa 🌈 Blessings by Chukwuebuka Ibeh

❤️ Out There by Iris Eliot 🧡 At Her Service by Amy Spalding 💛 Green Dot by Madeleine Gray

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monsieuroverlord · 1 day

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July 2024 Solicits are up!

The Blood Hunt Event is in full swing, we're on the tail end of Heir of Apocalypse, and the new era of X-Books has launched.

Even Namor is getting an 8 part mini-series!

source here

NYX #1

written by Collin Kelly and Jackson Lanzing, art by Francesco Mortarino, main cover by Sara Pichelli

"This isn’t a book about X-Men. This is a book about mutants living past the end of their world and into a new beginning.

This is MS. MARVEL embracing her mutant life in the neon streets of the Lower East Side. This is ANOLE trying to keep his head above water. This is WOLVERINE in the shadows of Bushwick, protecting her own. This is PRODIGY writing history as it happens – and SOPHIE CUCKOO finding her own way.

The news reports are bleak. The streets feel dangerous. There’s something lurking underground. Evil coming from every direction. But they’re determined to make it. This is mutant community. This is mutant pride. This is NYX."

Life of Wolverine #1

written by Jim Zub, art by Ramon Bachs, cover by Ron Lim

"LOGAN’S LIFE STORY – IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER FOR THE FIRST TIME!

WOLVERINE has been mindwiped, manipulated and given false memories so many times, what is the truth of his long life? Now, as a journey into his own past becomes paramount to the survival of mutantkind, delve into the TRUE story of LOGAN’s life, from his earliest days in the late 1800s, to the many wars he’s fought alongside comrades like CAPTAIN AMERICA and SABRETOOTH, to the WEAPON X procedures that changed his life forever, his days on the X-MEN and more! All IN CONTINUITY, this includes some adventures and links to the past never before revealed, giving the most complete picture of WOLVERINE’s history EVER ASSEMBLED! In print for the first time!"

X-Men: Blood Hunt -- Psylocke

written by Steve Foxe, art by Lynne Yoshii, main cover by Stephen Segovia

"NINJA VS. VAMPIRE!

After serving on the frontlines in the war against Orchis, KWANNON is enjoying some much-deserved downtime with her new lover Greycrow. But when darkness falls across Japan, PSYLOCKE will wield her psionic blade against bloodsucking creatures of legend and faces a foe unlike any she’s ever seen. An all-new villain emerges in the mayhem of BLOOD HUNT!"

X-Men: Blood Hunt -- Laura Kinney The Wolverine #1

written by Stephanie Phillips, art by Robert Gill, main cover by Bjorn Barends

"THE BLOODIEST RESCUE MISSION YET!

The vampires will stop at nothing in their bid for supremacy, including capturing mutants for hellacious experiments to boost their own power. But not on LAURA KINNEY’s watch! The WOLVERINE slices a swath through the vamps, but when she encounters the TRUTH behind their machinations, will an UNLIKELY ALLY prove to be more than she bargained for?"

X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse #3

written by Steve Foxe, art by Netho Diaz, main cover by Dotun Akande

"Warren Worthington III long ago – and at great cost – made peace with the seed of Death that Apocalypse planted within him. But as the contest to choose an heir rages on, ARCHANGEL takes the fight to Apocalypse himself, to make sure no one else suffers at the hands of En Sabah Nur!"

X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse #4

written by Steve Foxe, art by Netho Diaz, main cover by Dotun Akande

"The survivors of Apocalypse’s deadly trials confront the final test as their past, present and future converge. When the dust settles, only one will remain to safeguard mutantkind’s destiny by any means possible. Only one will become…the HEIR OF APOCALYPSE."

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names-for-alters · 2 months

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Hello one and all, alters and headmates! I am Charlie! I like to make lists! I also hoard names! Are you looking for a name? GREAT! You can send an ask and request a specific aesthetic or origin of name, or you can look at my list!

With that said…

…Cracks knuckles…

Findo Tach Tails Flicker Tracer Kat Iris Blu Brick Arlo Sammy Artie Finn Stein Aleksandr Vora Olive Luna Nyx Cyrus Qrow Orian Cello Onyx Skye Grim Opal Dawn Azure Fish Bones Poppy Bronze Eggs Sparky Specs Snickers Trout Navi Bingo Chili Bandit Stripe Busker Socks Brandy Frisky Winston Lucky Chucky Bently Judo Rusty Max Honey Indie Calypso Striker Merle Moxxie Vex Ant Bugger Bee Spider Tails Hook Indigo Amber Coco Coral Scarlet Ivory Jade Ruby Emerald Chuck Loden Copper Hamelin Neo Shepard Cinnamon Visor Macalister Soul Hack Hiccup Flynn Rider Astrid Jay Raven Robyn Bolt Dagger Viper Tracer Cornwall Flock Sapphire Crystal Ghost Mochi Trick Catra Rose Raven Flip Chani Racket Red Crimson Dragon Runt Scotch Tellie Gator Croc Crow Goat Duck Creeper Kuma Jet Jeep Draco Poppy Sombra Raine Squish Spike Blaze Ender Drake Sandy MK PJ DJ CJ MJ King Creak Shadow Clay Dusty Miles Dart Willow Antonius Husk Moth Cypher Jin Yin Yang Daisy Gray / Grey Alistair Halo Angel Cake Fennec Fox Null Lull Bastion Lucky Sun Star Cosmo Tweety Vox Nerys Sonic Bark Birch Oak Cherry Blossom Peaches Velvet Shell Coffee Valley Fang Moot Redpath Pudding X V Jr Ether Fig Trunk Joy Frogger Snowflake Snowball Snow Jumper Racket Flare Vendetta Loonie Coin Six Eleven Tropica Stelina Mojave Ink Sud Fender Zero Pollen Wysteria Page Ozias Rex Tortch Buck Nickel Stripe Lynch Tramp Wolf Pup Tank Jhariah Kharma Zenith Sparrow Prism Lemon Mune Lamb Pyke Diamond Parker Graves Fizz Nugget Melody Tink Blight Fangless Ambress Vulture Eclipse Luka Bangle Constance Constantine Sommar Babble Clank Bobble Chipper Aidan Slate Tin Twire Zephyr Silver Misty Faunus Atlas Birdie Brook Cedar Chip Coal Daisy Ember Faye Fate Fern Flint Harmony Helios Ivy Junx Kit Lyria Phoebe Piper Lady Beacon Elos Rumble Ida Cross Zed Scootie Smidge Clauger Happy Sonny Hath Soldier River Song Clawtor Videl Legen Onen Chunk Reid Pop Cobra Cash Clover Saris Volante Donna Belladonna Gale Chopper Morphias Vidia Loft Kape Levi Licker Howl Dustin Newt Creek Breezy Polaris Blight Archer Sirius Warren Dream Goon Cookie Ranger Amity Jericho Viggo Besko Asra Alice Olaf Mossfeld Issic Missy Rascal Creasy Nonya Hex Pita Miguel Manuel Rayburn Daisy Dash Lucky Becky Steele Cylo Featherstone Kingston Netherfield Reacher Saltburn Quick Rubble Dust Brimstone Humble Ado Grover Norvanos Leshy Blade Cooper Calcium

Leo

Leonardo

Lebony

Silver

Linzier

Pearl

blackberry

Tatin

Bud

Raphael

Pebble

Mina

Linda

Oolong

Daeo/Dayo/Dao

Inco

Ketlyn

Risa

Ines

Lora

Flock

Lux

Rix

Reah

Destinty

Bet

Ange

Krixa

Lalien

Gloom

Bug

Rozy

Mars

Screech

Jenny

Robert

Patrick

Pierre Rosemary

Henderson

Mayfield

Sinclair

Sullivan

Hart

Solace

Daughtler

Stoll

Gatlin

Yearwood

Amos

Graves

Rothschild

Halley

Spektor

Presley

Redd

Blackwood

Notvletti

Valerie

Milo

Marian

Lychee

Aiden

Nova

Vel

Bel

Yuri

Puro

Pluto

Ramona

Angel

Nada

Shen

Mog

Hania

Udge

Kinetic

Kikos Wathel

Dupa

Sierre

Jimor

Teddy

coc

Scara

River

Shade

Foenem

Duck

Emily

Toast

Reunna

Ichigo

Rae

Sonic

MoonL

Lennus

cabaran

Marto

Leveer

Granite

#alter names #names for alters #osdd #did #endo neutral #names #list of names #random names #good names #introjects #osddid #fictives #need names? I got names #name hoard #name requests #names for you

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thomasisaslut · 6 months

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Eris Vanserra x Azriel Shadowsinger

Dacryphilia — KTober

Word Count: 1k

Includes: Darcyphilia, Sensory deprivation, Anal, Anal Sex, Light Bondage, Hickeys, Love bites, Gay Sex.

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51247297

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1391145527-𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑-𝐃𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬-𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚-𝐱-𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

"I can't Az, I have too much work." Eris explained, both Azriel didn't want to take no as an answer, Vanserra's and their overworking tendencies...

"Fine, fine. We don't even have to do that just..." His scarred hands cup his mates cheeks, forcing the High Lord to look away from his paperwork. "Let me try something to help you relax?"

The ginger slowly nodded, in a second the two are winnowed to their now shared room, Azriel decided to stay with Eris half the week and the rest of his family the other half. The uneven day varies.

"What are you going to do?" Eris asked aloud.

"Lay back and see." Azriel smirked.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court did not protest, he lied on their bed, spreading out his body—a few joints cracking from the sensation of finally being stretched out—before stripping off his clothes, he already knew where this was going, well, for the most part.

By the time Eris was done stripping the Illyrian was already nude, his chiseled body on display for his mate. The High Lord couldn't avert his eyes from his mates raging erection when his vision was cut black.

"Az?" Eris calls out, a bit startled from the sudden blindness. The sensation of the shadows was not unfamiliar so he wasn't scared... just surprised.

"Shush, little fox. You know our safe word, correct?" Azriel asks, he steps closer and the bed dips as his weight is added.

Eris nods.

"Good, now just relax and let me help you, my love."

Azriel's hands trail around Eris' body, from his thighs to his shoulders, arms to legs, everywhere. The pads of his fingers happened to brush against Eris' hardened nipples every so often, flicking and teasing the sensitive nubs.

"Oh... Az- Everything is so much more-"

"Heightened? It's because you can't see."

Well this was one of his favorite techniques to use when torturing people for information... this would be a different type of torture.

"Are you alright with this, Eris?" Azriel asks for confirmation, the High Lord nods.

"Y-Yes... I... I want you, Az."

"In time, little fox."

The scarred hands continue to trace over every scar the Autumn fae had, Azriel kissed each and everyone while he was at it. Eris whimpered from each interaction.

"I love you, Azriel."

The spymaster kisses Eris' lips. "I love you too, Eris." He moves his hand to Eris' cock. "Do you want me?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Azriel spat into his hand, lubing up his cock before aligning it with Eris' hole, he didn't need prep—they'd fuck only a few hours ago.

"Oh!" Eris moaned as the head of Azriel's hard cock was inserted, he attempts to move his hands and it fails. "Az... let me touch your wings."

The shadows binding his wrists against the headboard brought Eris' hands to Azriel's wings, the sensation on the Illyrians sensitive spot was almost too much for him but he held out.

Azriel lent forward and sucked one of Eris' nipples into his mouth as he began to thrust his hips, his pelvis hitting against the back of the High Lord's thigh every movement.

"A-Azriel!" The younger shouted, the heightened senses from the blindness was enough but to have his nipples toyed with while he was being fucked was a lot. Well, it almost became too much when Azriel brought his free hand to his other nipple while the other began to stroke Eris' cock.

"You're so good for me, little fox, always. You're so good for your court, our court. Our family." Azriel moved his lips to Eris' neck, kissing and bruising the soft, pale, freckled flesh there. "Nyx adores you, you know?" The Shadowsinger almost laughed, the softness of his fucking was completely out of character for the Illyrian.

But, Azriel would do anything for his mate, as would Eris for him.

"Does he?" Eris manages to get out between moans and pants.

"Yes. He loved that time you made him a figure from fire." Azriel begins to pick up the pace of his thrusts, distracting his mate.

"Why... why are you... fuck! Oh... telling me this now?" Eris groans.

"Because it distracts you from your work, from everything, even those thoughts..."

"I can't think of much else other than your cock right now, Az." The High Lord of the Autumn Court pants out, he manages to buck his hips up to match his mates relentless fucking.

"Good." The Shadowsinger replied, his own release was on the edge of release as he fucked his mates hole. Azriel loved how it clenched for him, tightly as if it were to never let go.

His lips connected with the previously marked skin and he began to kiss the dark marks, the ginger moans beneath him, wanting his own release to be set free.

"I-I need to cum, Az." Eris moans.

"Then do it, cum for me, cum with me, little fox." Azriel says, he moves their positions so Eris is now riding him. With a stroke to the innermost part of Azriel's wings he is shooting his cum deep inside of his mates rear, it doesn't stop for a good minute which gives him a chance to help his lover cum.

Shadows swarm around Eris' balls, poking, squeezing, and clenching them, begging him to cum onto Azriel already.

'I love you. I love you. I love you.' Chanted down the bond from both parties before Eris came, his liquid covered both of their lower stomach and most of Azriel's hand.

The shadows move from Eris' eyes the sight of the tears in his eyes—for some sadistic reason—made Azriel's cock even harder than before, he smirked.

Azriel began to fuck into his mate again, the High Lord made no sound of protest, only pleasurable moans as he gave himself over to his lover, his mate, to Azriel.

"I love you, Eris." Azriel groans, he was close to his second load and didn't plan to hold back. The tears falling from Eris' eyes from overstimulation was enough to send him over the edge.

His load filled his mates hole for a second time, completely stuffing the High Lord with his seed.

"I love you too, Azriel."

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our-lord-satanas · 10 days

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NYX

WHO IS SHE?

Nyx is a primordial Goddess of the night and darkness. She is a deity of infinite wisdom and secret knowledge, and she is thought to be the progenitor of the universe. She is also associated with the void and the abyss, as well as the primordial chaos that predated the creation of the universe.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: she is typically portrayed as a beautiful and radiant figure, who appears youthful and ageless. Her body is often described as being made of light and shadow, and as having a radiant and ethereal appearance. She is often depicted as having long dark hair that flows freely in the air, and she often wears black and white attire.

Personality: Nyx is often described as a mysterious and ethereal entity, who governs the night and the Underworld. She is said to be a solitary figure, who keeps to herself and observes the world from a distance. She is often portrayed as a quiet and wise figure, who represents the depths of the night and the cycle of life and death. She is also viewed as a nurturing and protective force, who guards the secrets of the Underworld and ensures the smooth passing of the dead into the afterlife.

Symbols: crescent moon, night sky, mist, shadow, black lotus, darkness, torch, three-phase moon, and stars

Goddess of: the night and darkness

Culture: Greek

Plants and trees: poppies, night blooming lilies, moon flowers, olive tree, rosemary, mistletoe, and gladiolus

Crystals: black tourmaline, obsidian, amethyst, charoite (one of her fav crystals), black onyx, smoky quartz, garnet, and black rose quartz,

Animals: owls, crows, foxes, cats, nightingales, and bats

Incense: lavender, frankincense (one of her fav incense), chamomile, myrrh, dragon’s blood, and cinnamon

Colours: dark blue, black, purple, silver, and red

Tarot: The Star

Planets: Moon and Pluto

Days: Monday, New Moon, Autumn Equinox, and Sabbath

Parents: Chaos

Siblings: Erebus

Partner: Erebus

Children: Hemera, Aether, Hemera, Moros, Apate, Dolos, Nemesis, the Keres, the Moirai, Oizys, Momus, Oneiros, Hypnos, Eris, Thanatos, Philotes, Geras, and possibly more

MISC:

• The Moon: often associated with Nyx as she is the goddess of the night. It is a symbol of her influence over darkness and the universe.

• Stars: Nyx is also frequently associated with stars and constellations, as the night sky is her realm. Stars represent her infinite wisdom and knowledge and the heavenly lights that shine through the night.

• Void: the void is the primal, infinite void that existed before the creation of the universe. It is the primordial chaos that Nyx emerged from, and it is thought to be the origin of all things.

• Infinity: the concept of infinity is also associated with Nyx, as she is a deity of limitless wisdom and knowledge. Infinite knowledge and understanding are core values in her realm of the night.

• Destruction: Nyx is also often viewed as a goddess of destruction and ruin, as she is the embodiment of the void and the abyss.

• The Origin of the Universe: in one version of mythology, Nyx is said to have emerged from the primordial chaos and void that existed before the creation of the world. She is thought to have been the source of the energy and matter that gave rise to all existence.

• The Creation of the Olympians: in some versions of mythology, Nyx is believed to have given birth to Zeus and the other Olympians. She is also thought to have been their caretaker and protector.

FACTS ABOUT NYX:

• Nyx is associated with the night, darkness, and the abyss.

• She is also associated with the void, which is the space between dimensions and universes.

• Nyx is also associated with infinity, secret knowledge, and wisdom.

• She is often portrayed as a deity of creation, destruction, and transformation.

• Nyx has also been linked to the concept of fate and destiny.

• She is the primordial goddess of the night and the personification of darkness.

• Nyx is one of the most important goddesses in Greek mythology.

• She is associated with the night sky and the stars.

HOW TO WORSHIP NYX:

Respectful worship of Nyx involves taking time to set up a sacred space, cleaning and dedicating this space, offering prayers of reverence and gratitude, showing care and thought with offerings, asking her for guidance and wisdom with your prayers, being open to messages she may send, and being mindful and attentive throughout the devotion.

HOW TO PRAY TO NYX:

"Nyx, Goddess of the night and the primordial void, please accept this prayer and my offerings as a gesture of respect and devotion. I seek your guidance and your wisdom, and I ask for your protection and protection. Please guide me on this path of devotion and show me your wisdom and light. Hail Nyx."

WHAT ARE SIGNS THAT NYX WANTS ME TO WORK WITH HER?

If your request to work with Nyx has been accepted, here are some signs that you can look for:

• Feeling a deep connection and draw to Nyx’s energies.

• You are experiencing a calling or pull to work with her.

• You have vivid dreams or visions involving Nyx.

• Noticing signs and symbols related to Nyx appearing in your life.

• Having a desire or enthusiasm to learn more about Nyx.

• You feel an urge to explore spiritual practices related to Nyx.

• Experience increased synchronicity or meaningful coincidences related to Nyx.

If your request to work with Nyx has not been accepted, you may notice the following signs:

• You feel no connection or draw to her energies.

• Feeling a sense of repulsion or aversion when thinking about her.

• Signs and symbols related to Nyx cease to appear in your life.

• Experiencing nightmares or visions involving Nyx that are negative or frightening.

• A lack of enthusiasm or desire to learn more about Nyx.

• You feel an urge not to explore spiritual practices related to Nyx.

• You experience decreased synchronicity or meaningless coincidences related to Nyx.

Overall you need to be respectful of deities denying your request.

OFFERINGS:

• Milk.

• Black coffee or tea.

• Dark chocolate.

• Silver jewelry.

• Dragon fruit.

• Perfume.

• Olives.

• Dew gathered before the sun rises. Wine.

• Fire.

• Dark beer or liquors.

• Moon water.

• Feathers.

• Molasses.

• Starry and celestial items.

• White or black candles.

• Dark and protective herbs or spices.

• Flowers: lilies and night-blooming flowers.

• Moonshine.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS FOR NYX:

• Offer prayers and praises to Nyx, dedicating your energy to her and expressing your devotion.

• Light incense and candles dedicated to Nyx in your ritual space for an extra touch.

• Journal about your dreams.

• Create offerings and rituals to Nyx, such as offering food, plants, and other gifts, and dedicating your offerings and rituals to her.

• Read books on astrology and astronomy.

• Study and research Nyx, her mythology and energies, to get to know her better and develop a deeper relationship with her.

• Nyx and her energies, and connect with her on a deeper level.

• Spend time in nature at night, communing with Nyx and experiencing her energies.

• Go stargazing

IS IT SAFE TO EAT OR DRINK AN OFFERING I GIVE TO HER?

It is generally safe to eat or drink offerings given to Nyx, as she is not a malevolent or corrupt entity. However, it is up to your personal discretion and comfort level if you decide to consume offerings dedicated to any deity. If you are unsure about the safety or cleanliness of an offering, it is always best to be on the side of caution and avoid consuming it.

#fyp #fypシ #fypシ゚viral #fypage #fyppage #tumblr fyp #satanism #satanist #deity #deity work #deity worship #occult #nyx #goddess #night

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six-costume-refs · 3 months

Text

SIX MAKEUP: PALETTES, EYESHADOWS, AND EYE ACCENTS

For the introduction and masterpost, click here.

PALETTES Note on brands Most of the North American queens use Juvia's Place at this point. It is a Black-owned brand that Six initially added to help create more options for queens of color, but by now most queens use it regardless of race. As of Oct 2023, most of their palettes are on-sale. Most of the UK queens use Makeup Revolution palettes, although there's quite a bit more range in which they use and some other brands in the mix.

Queen-specific palettes

Aragon: Juvia's Place Rebel Honey, Doja Cat Elements (Gold), Juvia's Place Warrior, Morphe 9R, De'Lanci Leopard, Colourpop Good as Gold, Beauty Bay Golden Age

Boleyn: Juvia's Place Rebel Army, Nicka K Lucky Charm, De'Lanci Avocado, De’Lanci Green 15, Coloured Raine Wealthy Chic, Makeup Revolution Color Book, Makeup Revolution Billie, Beauty Bay Earthy (16 color), Beauty Bay Earthy (9 color)

Seymour (also black and silver alt): Juvia's Place The Rebel Greys, Doja Cat Elements Quad (Silver), Colourpop Blowing Smoke, Juvia's Place i Live i Love, De'Lanci Panda, De’Lanci Silver Smokey, Beauty Bay's Neutral (16), Morphe 9W, Makeup Revolution Color Book, Colourpop Blowing Smoke

Cleves: De’Lanci Flame Rose, De'Lanci Red Apple, Makeup Revolution Color Book

Howard: Juvia's Place The Sweet Pinks, Juvia's Place The Berries, Juvia's Place the Mauves, Beauty Bay Berries (9 color), Beauty Bay's Tropical (16 color), Beauty Bay Berries (16 color), Makeup Obsession Kisses, De’Lanci Pink Peach, Makeup Revolution Britney, Makeup Revolution Color Book

Parr: Juvia's Place Olori 2, Nicka K Ocean Eyes, Juvia's Place I Live I Love, Beauty Bay's Midnight (16 color), De’Lanci 15 color

Teal alt: Makeup Revolution Ice, Makeup Revolution Color Book, Colourpop Blue Moon, De’Lanci 15 color, De'Lanci Dolphin

Orange alt: De'Lanci Sweet Orange, De’Lanci Orange 15 color, Juvia's Place The Nubian Glow,

Pink alt: Juvia's Place The Mauves, Juvia's Place Blushed Rose, Makeup Revolution Color Book, Makeup Revolution Britney, Juvia's Place The Candy Shop

Multi-queen/colored palettes:

Beauty Bay's Bright 2.0 (16 color) ($20) - Smaller, but great range with mattes and glitters for Aragon/Boleyn/Howard/Parr/orange alt

Nicka K Fifteen Color Palette ($5) - Wild Matte palette has decent options for just about every costume (principal and alternate). However, it's not as versatile in how flattering it will be on every skin tone/undertone.

LaRoc Circus ($30) - Great for Boleyn/Howard, options for Aragon/Cleves/orange and pink alt

NYX Ultimate Shadow Palette ($20) - I Know That's Bright has several good options for Aragon and Howard, as well as one or two good shades each for Boleyn/Cleves/Parr/potentially alts. - Warm Neutrals has shades that could work for Aragon and potentially Seymour/black and silver alts.

De'Lanci Mysterious Queen ($50) - This one is expensive but huge (72 colors). Very comprehensive with good colors for just about every queen and alt.

Juvia's Place Warrior 3 ($20) - best for Boleyn/Cleves/Howard/teal

Juvia's Place Wahala 2 ($36) - best for Seymour/Cleves/Parr/black/silver, with good options for Boleyn/Howard/orange too

Juvia's Place Culture ($36) - best for Boleyn/Howard/orange/pink, with good options for Parr and some silver/black alt

Juvia's Place Culture 2 ($38) - particularly good for Boleyn, but has some options for most others

Jessica Gallant's PEI Palette ($25) - Neutrals plus a base for Boleyn/Cleves/Parr

LIQUID/CREAM EYESHADOWS

MAC Paintstick ($25) Colors: Landscape Green (Boleyn), Basic Red (Cleves), Process Magenta (Howard), Marina Ultra (Parr)

Made by Mitchell Gel Glaze Cream Eyeshadow (UK link, US link) ($14) Colors: Sparky (Boleyn), For A Grey Day or Silver Fox (Seymour), For A Grey Day (Cleves) Pink Monday (Howard), Ocean Eyes or Ecliptic or Denim Dood (Parr), For a Grey Day or Silver Fox (black or silver alt), Ocean Eyes or Denim Dood or Dreaming of You (teal alt), Peachy Keen (orange alt), Sweet Beat or Peach Dusk (pink alt) - not all colors are available in every country

Danessa Myricks Colorfix Liquid Metals ($20) Colors: 24K (Aragon), Platinum (Seymour/black alt/silver alt), Gilded (orange alt)

Danessa Myricks Colorfix Foils ($20) Colors: Cosmic (Cleves), Blossom (Howard), Cosmic (black or silver alt), Mermaid (teal alt), Petals (pink alt)

Danessa Myricks Colorfix Metallics/Cream ($20) Colors: Goldmine (Aragon), Limesickle (Boleyn), Titanium or Iconic (Seymour), Magnetic or Fireworks (Parr), Titanium or Obsidian (black or silver alt), Magnetic (teal alt), Romance or Ballerina (pink alt)

Danessa Myricks Colorfix Matte ($20) Colors: Primary Yellow (Aragon), Secret Garden (Boleyn), Lift (Seymour), Primary Red (Cleves), Latte or Valentine (Howard), Primary Blue or Colbolt (Parr), Beaches (teal alt), Carrot Top (orange alt), Latte (pink alt)

Haus Labs Hy-Power Pigment Paint ($24) Colors: Charcoal Shimmer or Silver Shimmer (Seymour), Scarlet Matte (Cleves), Fuchsia Matte or Magenta Shimmer (Howard), Charcoal Shimmer or Silver Shimmer (black/silver alt)

OTHER EYE ACCENTS

Maybelline Tattoo Studio Gel Pencil ($9) Colors: Polished White or Sparkling Silver (general/Seymour/black and silver alt), Ultra Pink or Punchy Pink (Howard), Navy Bling or Deep Teal (Parr), Blue Disco or Arctic Skies (teal alt), Orange Flash (orange alt)

Fast Stroke Crystal Liner ($4) Colors: Funk (Aragon), Glitz (Seymour/silver and black alt/general highlight) - Several UK queens use this as some highlight and to fill in their glitters.

MAKEUP CRYSTALS

Designer Dust Co. Face Sparkles ($2) Colors: Green (Boleyn), White/Crystal (Seymour), Red (Cleves), Pastel Pink or Glow Pink (Howard), Blue (Parr), White/Crystal/Black (silver/black alt), Glow Blue (teal alt), Orange or Glow Orange (orange alt), Pastel Pink (pink alt) - Many of the mainland US actors use these. Keep in mind that these require a glue to apply.

Makeup Rhinestones from Amazon ($10) - I’ve seen a few of the alts use this set or a similar one. The glue is included. Has colors for all principal costumes and potentially all alt, although it depends on your preferences.

#six makeup #makeup masterpost

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justsleepyrune · 6 months

Text

@fallenlondonficswap @tales-from-the-neath

In which a tailor’s shop has dubious customer service and a child preaches the virtues of slugs. Did my best to capture Nyx’s personality.. Writing them was a lot of fun! For the group swap!

General rating | Éadaoin Blank, Nyx Darkhelm, Arlen Blank | 1369 words

The tailor’s apartment was a cramped little thing, nestled between a soup shop and a millinery, crouched low underneath Veilgarden’s eaves. It was two stories, one built atop the other, with shuttered windows carefully peering into the darkness. A faint light flickered.

Nyx Darkhelm stood in front of the shop, smoothing a fold of their suit. The amber hued light woven into the dreamlike linen glittered, casting a soft glow. Behind them, a hansom cab rattled, shuddering as it stumbled down the clumsily paved streets.

Their friend had recommended the place. Surely it couldn’t be too bad.

The fox took a deep breath, their ever perfect posture stiffening further, before they knocked twice on the blue painted door. It swung open, a girl watching them curiously. “It’s too early,” she said, eyes narrowed. “We aren’t open yet.”

Nyx paused. “I must have been misinformed, my apologies,” they muttered. They glanced about the streets, considering where it would be best to wait. “I wanted to get a gift for a friend.”

She waited for a long moment, studying them. She was young. An urchin? No. She was dressed far too nicely, stood far too tall to be an urchin, even if she leaned against the frame of the door as if she had an army to back her up, as if she had no reason to be afraid, despite the late hour. “Oh, fine,” she snorted, shaking her head. A dark curl had escaped from her arrangement of hair, a few stray pins trailing. She must have been midway through disassembly. “My father won’t mind opening a little early.”

She stepped away, beckoning them into the entry hall. Someone had been drawing on the walls, scribbling in a dizzying amount of fonts. Scraps of poetry or doodles on higher levels, a childish scribble on the lower, nearest to the floor. “Interesting choice, coming here,” she called, deftly stepping over a discarded dolly faceplanted on the floor, little ribbons wrapped around its arms a colorful contrast to its dark skin. “My father isn’t known for practicality.”

Nyx paused, already halfway down the hall, considering what Alisha would like. “It doesn’t have to be practical.” It likely should be. Still, they weren’t above pushing their friend a little.

She laughed. “Your loss or luck, I suppose.” She offered no further explanation. “What’s your name?”

“Darkhelm. Nyx Darkhelm. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss..?” They trailed off, waiting for a name. A flash of their teeth in a smile, sharp rows.

The girl laughed. “Marie-Suzanne. I stick with Suzy, typically. This way.” She pushed aside a curtain of purple fabric, streaked with orange like some distant memory of a sunset sky.

They stepped inside, nearly stumbling back when the curtain fell into their face again, but braving it despite. They grinned nervously, gleaming teeth showing. They stepped inside.

The tailor’s shop was sectioned off by more curtains, making a maze out of what could have been simplicity. Holes had been cut into the sides of scattered lanterns, allowing scattered light to slip out in strange shapes and shadows. A few strips of fabric lay half sewn on a table. A mannequin wrapped in a cape of arms stood amongst a pile of tiny painted blocks.

“I’ll go tell him you’re here,” Marie-Suzanne told them, already ducking behind a curtain of sharp blue. Her footsteps trailed away.

In an instant, they were abandoned.

Nyx hesitated, fidgeting with the golden rose on their lapel, tail swishing back and forth. Doubts were beginning to swirl in their mind. Still, they were nothing if not adventurous on occasion.

“A gift?” The voice came from behind another of the curtains. “Right, of course. I’ll need specifics, of course.” The man who emerged had a child on his hip, one with Naples yellow eyes and a pale blue bow in her curly hair. He set her down and she toddled forwards, eyes focused on Nyx. They weren’t sure who to look at, with the disdainful gaze of the man, the wide eyed scrutiny of the child.

Finally, they settled on the man. The tailor, they assumed, leaning on a dragon headed cane. Strange patches of rippled material trailed up his neck, down the arms exposed from his sheer sleeve. Almost reminiscent of glass.

“Nyx Darkhelm. I’m in the process of acquiring a gift for a friend.” Another grin, their tail flicking back and forth.

“Of course,” he smiled back. It was not a kind smile. “Call me Blank.”

The little girl stomped forward, reaching for Nyx. They froze, looking down at her. Without hesitation, she bumped her forehead into their leg, then looked up at them with a wide small-toothed smile. “Hello!”

They looked down at her, then back to Blank. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing, taking a seat beside the scrap covered table. “Er, hello,” they said, standing a bit stiffer.

The little girl blinked. “You’re fluffy,” she observed, with a peculiar brand of solemnity. Her little hands formed clumsy signs as she spoke, little gestures that they did not understand. “An’ your suit glows.”

“Ah, yes. It does.”

“That’s kinda nice.”

They nodded, considering. “Yes, I do find it quite nice.”

“You should wear some purple. I like purple. It’s the color of slugs Like Bijou! Bijou is yellow an’ purple an’ my best slug ever, but I gave him away because he wanted to go do more adventures. Now I don’t have a slug, but I do have a teeny tiny snake.” She took a breath and did not stop. “I think snakes are kind of good, but slugs are better. Slugs are all small and squishy, but snakes are too tricky and say mean things. Bijou didn’t say mean things. He said nice things. Slugs are always very nice, it’s in their,” a pause and a soft mumble as she sounded out the word, “in their nature.”

They tried to look back, think of if they had ever met a slug, one that was particularly purple or named Bijou. Nothing came to mind. “I see,” they said. They, in fact, were lying. “I am not purchasing anything for me, however.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it is a gift?” They glanced to Blank again. He made no movement to do much of anything, just watched his daughter. “A gift for someone else,” they thought it best to clarify.

The little girl thought about this, taking a seat on the ground and looking up at them, before nodding. “Okay.” Before they could open their mouth, continue their conversation with the tailor, she continued. “Do you have a name?”

“Ah, yes. Nyx.” They offered a shallow bow. Éadaoin did not bow back, just sat on the floor and began to pick her nose.

“I’m Éadaoin. Are you a fox?” Behind her, Blank’s faint smile grew, his gazer sharper than there was right for. They had the feeling they were being tested. They just didn’t know what they were being tested on.

“Ah. Yes, yes, I am.”

“Huh. Okay. I’m not a fox.” She squinted up at them.

“Yes, I could tell.”

“I like your flower. It’s shiny.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

Finally, Blank saw fit to cut in. “I think that our guest may wish to place their order before my scheduled client, little one.” He pulled himself up again, a few short gestures being directed towards Éadaoin before he offered Nyx a gloved hand to shake. His smile was genuine now, if no less sharp. In some way, they had passed. “We can discuss details, payment, and time restraints, of course. If it’s a fitted garment, I’ll need some sort of measurements. We have not technically opened yet, despite Suzy’s decision otherwise, so you have approximately a half hour until my client arrives.”

They took his hand, glancing down to the little girl who had already begun to lose interest, wrapping the pale blue ribbon that had sprung from her curls around her fingers in curving loops. “Wonderful,” they nodded. “I have nearly assembled an idea.”

“We’ll work together then, complete that thought,” Blank nodded. “I believe you’ll find that I am quite skilled in making simple ideas reality.” For some reason, they believed him.

#oc: blank #others ocs #fallen london fic swap #rune writes #does blank make every potential customer interact with his kids to judge whether they're worthy of taking on?#not In Court obviously but now he has a little more freedom to judge #i hope you enjoy!!!

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zpl1nt3r3d-b0n3-zhardz · 12 days

Note

hello hello! we've been following your blog for a looooong time now and are back for ✨more names✨ that said! we humbly request some names that just scream "red"? nouns preferred, we're punk rock over here /hj /nf

thank you!!!!!

Hope you enjoy !

Adam

Blaze

Flynn

Rowan

Phoenix

Auburn

Rose

Jasper

Cherry

Scarlett

Poppy

Ruby

Garnet

Crimson

rebel

blood

bloodie

bloodlette

bledor

red (duh)

Redcurrant

velvet

Crab

Begonia

Cardinal

acerola

brick

fire

firework

magma

mars

saffron

amaryllis

anthurium

brass

cayenne

lava

radish

paprika

Newt

clay

pomegranate

granate

spider lily

rust

sandstone

wine

Rhubarb

Sumac

rubicundus

rufus

rubrum

ignis

flamma

incaendium

inflammo

plamya

Aero

alyx

andrix

ant

artery

axel

beedle

benrot

bergamot

calsifer

canis

carnis

carnivore

konrad

corveum

cyx

davros

deimos

diavolo

Duncan

Engel

fenris

fenrir

fox

gadora

Garrett

gizmo

heinous

Holt

horror

husk

icarus

inferno

inzra

ives

julian

jules

junos

kaizer

kenji

Kerrigan

Keegan

khaos

Lucian

Lucio

lucifer

lucid

maverick

maddox

ashton

malak

mania

Maroon

Marshall

moxie

moxel

nox

nyx

paint

paradox

Parker

pasha

patch

razor

raze

Reid

remor

riot

Rion

rottyn

ronnie

Sabastion

salami......

salmon

salsa

sanity

satyr

savion

Sawyer

scabz

scotch

seros

shadow

sorrow

spit

spitfire

spyder

tecula

theseus

uriel

Valdemar

valera

vampir

vesper

vriska

wyatt

zagen

zayden

Some noun and just some that scream red to us ! - 💜/🎸

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utterlyotterlyx · 2 days

Text

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

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123moiaussi · 2 years

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Hello lovely!!!!

I have a headcanon prompt for you!! *clears throat*

Elain and Azriel secretly meeting at the townhouse, what would happen? 🥰

🌹

Hi there nonnie!

I hope you’re doing well. I do love a good HC prompt, so let’s set the scene😏

Location: Townhouse

Time: A couple months after the solstice incident

Characters involved: Azriel, Elain, and a special guest👀

Situation: An awkward secret encounter at the townhouse

Elriel secret meeting in the townhouse- LET’S GO!

- Azriel had been away from Velaris for weeks at a time and Rhys had tasked him to complete more tasks than ever. More traveling, more investigating and more staying away from a particular person.

- Azriel was both grateful and resentful towards his brother at present. Grateful for the fact he could avoid Nesta and Cassian’s as well as the uncomfortable interactions with a particular Acheron sister. He was resentful towards Rhys because of his order to stay away as well as his assumption that he had some sort of I’ll will towards Elain. That what he felt for her was merely jealousy or something fleeting. He resented Rhys for the fact that he couldn’t face her and apologise to her. He felt awful that he and Rhys were lying to Elain in some capacity, Feyre to an extent too. Elain was a pawn in a court of politics and it angered Azriel that he can’t say anything without causing political upset or the wrath of his High Lord.

- So, Az stayed away and followed an order he’d much rather disobey. He still asked about her. Nuala and Cerridwen would sometimes mention Elain’s health or activities and Az would relish in the updates. It’s as close as he can get for now but he felt that the twins were hiding something from him for the sake of their friend.

- Something was happening with Elain and Azriel could do nothing about it without raising suspicions. He told the twins to keep training Elain and showing her how to defend herself. Az knew that Elain did want to learn the basics of certain things but felt that if her sisters knew they’d judge her for some reason. Her people pleasing and non confrontational ways from her human hood were slowly fading away but old habits die hard too.

- Azriel had just come back from snooping in the human lands. He did visit the Band of Exiles of course for updates from Vassa and Jurian as Lucien was away in other courts. Apparently, he stopped in Night for a visit. Of course, Rhys would send him on a mission to get him out of the way for the fox. It pained Azriel that his own brother thought so low of him and so highly of a bond that one party (and maybe both) did not want.

- A summer ago, Az and Elain had sat in the river house garden. He’d been helping her harvest some vegetables from her new patch as well as help her with some cutting of flowers for some bouquets she was commissioned for an event.

-Elain had made quite the name for herself in Velaris. The people loved her here and she reciprocated. She helped various fae in their communities with their own personal gardens and events. She would take time to listen to local stories and history of the fae and tell them to Az. She even said she had collected some storybooks and lullabies for Feyre and Nyx. She attended classes and few events. She celebrated the smaller holidays with friends and patrons. She played with the local children in the streets and spoke fondly of the shopkeepers in the Rainbow district. She knew Velaris as a citizen and not just as a High Lady’s sister. The people adored her because she was helpful, attentive and willing to learn and love this community and they welcomed her with open arms.

-Elain wanted more than being a wife, not that being a wife was a bad thing but she finally had the option of being more than one without bringing dishonour on her family. As she was toiling in her garden with the shadow singer at her side, Elain expressed her frustration with the court. Azriel could tell that she had grown weary of her sister and Rhys’s antics. Sometimes, they would bring Lucien around unannounced to surprise her and make for some mate on mate interaction. She hated it. She hated that even her sister expected her to cave and give into this so called bond that she thought Elain would love. She hated the fact that she was viewed as a kind of disappointment. Why doesn’t she just give into it? Give him a chance? She would hear them whisper into the night. She could not give in so easily. Her heart was her own to keep and to hold and it couldn’t be parted with because of another entity outside of Elain. Feyre had learned to back off a bit but Elain feared that there was something that they weren’t telling her. Maybe an arranged marriage. It wasn’t uncommon in the human lands when they didn’t have much choice but here in their court she thought she could do as she pleases as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else. And for some time she rambled as Az listened quietly to his friend expressing herself. Elain didn’t seem to be the type to voice her frustrations often so he kept the memory close to his heart. This must mean something he told himself yet he was just a fool.

- Azriel landed in the townhouse garden. He’d report to Rhys at a later stage. He didn’t want to see his brother or witness Elain and Lucien in the same vicinity. Maybe Elain and Lucien got on these days and maybe this bond was something she thought worthy of her heart. He was a fool to believe that he would’ve given it to him. Maybe she once did but after Solstice she locked it back in her chest. He needed to avoid her because of Rhys’s orders but also to protect himself from the torment of his own mistakes. But the townhouse reminded him of the peace and tranquillity that she gave him.

- Azriel opened the mud room to take off some of his armour and his boots to change into something a bit more comfortable than the stuff he’d taken on his mission. He placed his knifes and equipment on the table. But at the corner of his eye, he saw some wellingtons. Much smaller than his own clunky feet and they were the colour of daffodils. And against the wall, was a cobalt blue two wheeled device with a large basket at the front. He’d seen it before in Dawn but couldn’t remember the name of it yet it was on the top of his tongue. They smelt familiar and recently used. Someone was in the townhouse with him.

- Azriel contemplated if he should leave now or stay a little longer. His shadows seemed to whisper to LOOK LOOK FOR HER and much against his good judgement he walked into the townhouse.

- The house was illuminated with the colours of Dusk, and the shadows of the furniture and garden seemed to warp and sway with the breeze that was outside. There were hardly any lights on, just the ones in the kitchen, the foyer and the lounge. The carpets had faded a little more since his last visit and the stained glass windows of the foyer glistened in an array of cool shades of blue, purple, pink and some shades of red and orange.

- Azriel smelt the air, it smelt of lavender and of her and a hint of something else. Someone else was with her here. He needed to depart quickly and without a sound but he had to see her. Elain on quite steps walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She walked with a tray of tea and baked goods and faced the back of the house where the large bay window looked onto her garden. Her back was turned to face him and she probably hadn’t noticed him yet so he stalked towards the mud room and-

- “I know you are there”, she turned to look over her shoulder and right into the corner of the foyer he hid himself in. “Your shadows are traitors to you”, she breathed, “they tell me when you’re near”. Azriel couldn’t breathe.

- In those months he hadn’t seen her he had forgotten how dazzling and beautiful she was. She had grown and settled into her fae body and her hair and skin seemed to glow with power. Elain was like a goddess walking amongst the living. Powerful and ethereal and to everyone’s surprise a little bit deadly. The way she was looking at him lacked some of the fondness she used to have for him.

-It’s what you deserve, a voice breathed down his neck. Azriel agreed but he did not think that voice was from inside his head. Azriel dared look up at the foyer ceiling and saw a pit of darkness. Bryaxis.

- “Don’t mind Bryaxis, Azriel. He is my friend” Elain said to him as she poured two cups of tea and laid out a small cake to the side of the table. “Please don’t fret and brood in the corner. I’d much prefer it if you could sit down for a chat if you were going to snoop around my residence.” Azriel broke his gaze from Bryaxis and walked his way towards Elain where she sat on a worn couch. “When did you move in here?” he asked as he sat down. “About a month ago, I told Feyre that I needed a space of my own and that she, Rhys and Nyx deserved to have their own space.” She spooned some sugar into her own tea and skipped out on Azriel’s, added a dash of milk to both cups and sprinkled cinnamon onto the top of Azriel’s tea. She remembered how he took his tea. She cared still even though she was hurt.

- “Why here?”, Azriel knew that he was asking the obvious but he’d do anything to keep her talking. Elain looked at him then, “it was the only open house and I felt guilty to ask Rhys to pay for a place of my own.” Of course, she would feel guilty to spend money after Feyre had done so much for her. “Plus, I get to work on my garden plans for this house. It’s closer to many of my clients that I work for. The commute is easier whether I’m walking or cycling. There are many benefits.”

- “You cycle?” he asked and smiled just a bit. “Yes”. Ah, he was only given practical answers now. No more causal and lingering conversation between them after her hurt her. It was understandable. “It’s easier than you think”, she quipped. A morsel she was giving him and he’d take it.

- “l think the wings would put me off balance.” He was being Frank, he’d rather fly anyway than fall over and bump into pedestrians.

-“You’ve got a point there”, Elain tapped the edge of the table. “Bryaxis, your teatime cake is ready.” From the foyer ceiling, darkness crawled along the walls, and pooled on the deep crimson carpet. Slowly, Bryaxis collected itself into a shadowy heap that stood tall. Its limbs were long and it had no facial features. Azriel couldn’t help but flinch as Bryaxis stalked toward where Elain and Azriel were sitting. No wonder Cassian was scared of that thing.

- Bryaxis bent down and blackness surrounded the small cake and slowly it’s shadows broke it down into pieces. Az was a tad horrified (perhaps morbidly curious)but Elain wasn’t bothered at all. She didn’t judge a soul, her heart was pure and good. Something he no longer deserved; he didn’t deserve it in the first place.

- The 3 of them sat in silence for a while, looking out of the bay window and onto the garden in progress. Elain had been working hard. New beds had been dug, paths had been ripped up and relocated, different species of crawling plants were beginning to grow along newly designed iron frames. A season past, Azriel mentioned to Elain that iron frames made by a blacksmith in the Rainbow could add to her garden. He was surprised that she remembered but that is Elain. She had a talent and a flare that she had the time to foster now. Without him. He knew that it was probably too late to apologize now but in his heart he hoped that it would do something to ease this tension between them.

- Bryaxis finished its plate and gracefully set it upon the tea tray Elain had on the table in front of him. Thank you the entity breathed and in a matter of seconds Bryaxis dissolved into thin air. Az didn’t know that was possible, but that question could be answered another day.

- Az cleared his throat, “Elain,” her gaze rested on him a moment before settling on one of the patterns on the wall paper behind him.

-“I’m sorry —“

-“For what exactly?,” she huffed at him. Her tone was colder than what he was used to from her but it was justified.

-“For hurting you. I did not intend to call you—“

-“You called me a mistake”, her eyes suddenly stared into his own. It was too much the sadness that he found there. “And you left me there with no explanation for months.” Her eyes began to gloss over.

-“I have been away on missions and in other courts.”

-“It was never an issue before. You always found time for me no matter your schedule. You disappeared…,” she paused her monologue for a deep breath. Most likely to steady herself. “Like— like a shadow.”

-Az didn’t know what to say so he repeated himself, “I did not intend to hurt you. I didn’t want to walk away.”

-“Impact matters more than intent. Your actions seemed clear to me. You rejected me and you feel guilty for hurting me. Why else would you be here?”

-To see you. To look at your beauty and fall on my knees. Anything from would suffice even your scorn. Azriel did not have the courage to say these things aloud. Too much blood and pain could come from his confession. He’d rather have her here than her in pain. He gave her a blank expression and she turned away.

-“I have to attend an appointment with a client now,” she said as she stood up to take the tea tray. Liar. She couldn’t bear to see him any longer. Coming here was a mistake and he might’ve made things worse.

- “Elain, let me help—“ Azriel pounced from his seat to meet her on her way to the kitchen.

-“Azriel,” she never used his full name. Ever. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I think it’s time you should leave.” She was right and Azriel knew that he’d salted her wound.

- Giving her one last glance, he bowed his head and strode to the mud room. He fumbled to get his armour and boots. He didn’t bother to take his time to put it on, he just picked it up in a bundle and carried it out into the garden. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He couldn’t winnow inside the house but he decided that he could put on his attire in a corner of the garden that Elain couldn’t see before he flew into the skies. He needed a flight to cool his nerves and his body.

- As Azriel hastily put on his armour and placed his knives into their scabbards, a darkness emerged from the walls in the corner of the garden.

She still asks about you when visiting the High Lord, Shadowsinger. She is kinder than you deserve.

-“I know”, Az whispered, “she’s kinder than anyone I’ve ever known.” He didn’t need truthteller to confirm that, in the past he bore witness to her heart. And once upon a time wished that she would give her heart to him.

The Vanserra attempted to visit her twice during his stay. She made herself invisible so he’d go away.

- Az stopped. Nuala and Cerridwen had not reported Elain’s powers manifesting invisibility.

The shadow twins have hidden stuff away from you. They are loyal friends.

“Indeed,” Az could no longer entertain Bryaxis. He knew too much. Elain didn’t want him or anyone to know. He had access to information that she wanted private. He didn’t deserve to know even though as a spymaster he did. Azriel finished buckling the straps of his armour and prepared to take flight.

Goodbye, Shadowsinger.

Without a backward glance, Azriel shot into the sky. He was in for a long flight.

AND SCENE!

Thanks once again nonnie for sending me this prompt. It took me a couple days to finish and tbh I want it out of my drafts so I haven’t asked someone to check for spelling and grammar mistakes.

Have a lovely day🪩💕🫶

#elriel #Casio asks #Casio anons #Elriel HCs #secret meeting in the townhouse HC #it’s a little angsty #also Bryaxis

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