crossfandomslut

[crossfandomslut]

My poor emotionally constipated bucky 😭🫶

for better or for worse (5) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader (fake marriage au)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors, dni, heavy angst, mentions of torture

summary: you and bucky are forced to play newlyweds at a luxury honeymoon resort. he’s controlling, you’re reckless, and now you’re sharing a bed. the problem? it’s getting harder to play pretend. and you’re not sure either of you will survive what comes next.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: hi sweethearts! we are at chapter of this series and oh my gosh, i am so excited to get the last 2 chapters out because i am debating between the type of ending i would like this series to have! your feedback is always welcomed 💌 love ya guys and stay safe out there! 💕

series masterlist

The penthouse was excessive.

It was the kind of wealth that laughed at subtlety—the kind that didn’t whisper its power, but screamed it. It assaulted the senses in every direction, a crystalline fortress carved into the sky, perched at the top of Monaco’s most elite tower. 

Glittering chandeliers hung like jagged ice sculptures from mirrored ceilings, casting fractured rainbows across floors of polished ivory marble. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and money.

A wall-to-wall aquarium stretched across one entire side of the room, aglow with bioluminescent fish imported from some private reef halfway across the world.

Even the water shimmered like it had been distilled from diamonds. Every inch of the space screamed exclusivity, opulence, danger. 

You could feel it in your skin—like silk suffocating you.

Beyond the towering glass windows, the Monaco skyline glittered against the velvet night. Yachts drifted below like ghosts, their lights blinking lazily on the dark sea.

And at the center of it all was Raskovic.

He was built like a war—not a man, but a monument. Thick-necked, wide-shouldered, a towering frame that made the tailored lines of his suit look stretched and choked. 

He radiated the kind of threat that didn’t need to be spoken. Every guard in the room flinched just slightly when he turned his head—a glance carrying the weight of a command.

You’d seen powerful men before. But this… this was different. Raskovic didn’t just own power. He embodied it.

His face was carved in hard lines, his mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. It didn’t soften him. It made him look sharper. Hungrier. Like a lion watching dinner stumble straight into the den.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes,” he said, voice smooth like old leather and too much vodka. He didn’t stand, just gestured lazily for you to join him at the long glass table set in the center of the room.

Bucky was close behind you. His hand slid to the small of your back—part of the act, of course. But his fingers pressed in slightly harder than they needed to. Like a warning, like reassurance. You didn’t know which one you needed more.

“We’re honoured,” you said smoothly, your voice polished and poised, as if the glittering tension didn’t make your skin itch. Bucky gave a nod beside you, his eyes tracking every guard, every movement.

The table had been laid out like an art piece, foie gras resting atop toasted brioche with violet fig compote, lobster bisque in impossibly thin porcelain bowls, and Duck à l’orange carved so precisely it looked painted. 

Surrounding the spread were polished silver utensils and deep-red wine glinting in faceted crystal flutes, poured with care by servers in floor-length black gowns.

You sat, and the moment your body touched the chair, something in your gut twisted hard.

It wasn’t anything obvious. 

No flashing lights, no sudden danger. Just instinct—a whisper at the base of your skull that grew louder with every breath you took. The way the servers didn’t meet your eyes. The way Andrei leaned in the shadows of the far wall, watching, waiting.

You knew. Something was wrong.

Raskovic took his wine in hand and swirled it lazily. “So. I heard from Andrei…” He turned those cold eyes to you. “You know me?”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “Who wouldn’t?”

A smile crept across Raskovic’s face. “A good answer.”

He chuckled and sipped his wine, exuding the confidence of a man surrounded by his kingdom. You let the conversation glide around you like smoke, lips curved just enough, playing your part. 

Andrei hadn’t moved from the wall, but you could feel him, gaze heavy, predatory. You didn’t trust the shadows here—they belonged to him.

“And what do you specialise in?” Raskovic asked, breaking off a piece of bread with delicate fingers. “Explosives? Biochemical toys? Or are you more... traditional?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, casual on the surface but coiled beneath. “Mostly smart-range pulse rifles. Electromagnetic scatter rounds. Some Stark-modified EMPs, the kind that make your eyes bleed if you’re standing too close.”

Raskovic laughed, low and genuine. “Ah, Stark. Yes. He did have flair.” He lifted his glass. “To creative destruction.”

You raised yours to match. Glasses clinked. The wine shimmered.

You hesitated. Then drank.

And regretted it instantly.

You blinked. Swallowed. Your hand tightened around your glass as you turned slightly in your chair.

“I—I don’t… feel so—”

Your words fell apart, slurred and sticky. Your throat closed. The room twisted violently beneath your feet. Bucky was on his feet before your head even dipped forward.

“What the hell did you do?” he snarled, voice tight.

Raskovic didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Andrei moved like a shadow—fast, precise, and cruel. You barely saw him before his arm wrapped around your body, dragging you upright as your legs gave out beneath you.

One thick arm locked around your chest, yanking you back against him, while the cold edge of a knife pressed into the delicate line of your throat.

You whimpered—not from the pain, but from how far Bucky suddenly seemed.

He surged forward. “LET. HER. GO!”

But the guards were faster than he was.

Two lunged first, catching him at the arms. Then another. Then two more. They tried to hold him down, to pin the fury inside the soldier’s body—but he was already gone. 

Not Bucky. Not James.

The Winter Soldier raged, and the man underneath him broke.

His scream tore through the air—raw, unfiltered. “DON’T TOUCH HER!”

He fought like a beast, like he was tearing out his own soul to get to you. Every muscle locked and screamed with effort as he dragged the men across the polished floor. His eyes were wide, burning blue, locked on yours like they were the last thing tethering him to sanity.

You could see it—the pain in him. The terror.

“Get off me!” he shouted, slamming his elbow into someone’s face with a sickening crack. “You touch her again, I’ll kill you—I’ll kill you all!”

“Try something, Barnes,” Andrei hissed into your ear, his knife pressing harder into your skin. A thin line of blood slipped down your neck. “Give me a reason.”

“STOP,” Bucky roared, his voice shredded and frantic, “PLEASE��please, take me instead—just let her go—”

But Raskovic only leaned back in his chair, amused. “Look at you,” he said, voice like rot. “The infamous Winter Soldier. Look what they turned you into.”

Bucky thrashed harder, dragging three men with him as he reached toward you, fingertips almost brushing yours before another slammed into his gut. He coughed, staggered, and still tried to crawl.

“Let her go!” he screamed again. His voice cracked this time—a break in the steel.

You could barely keep your eyes open, your limbs like water. But you turned your head—just slightly—enough to meet his gaze.

And even through the fog choking your mind, you knew what you saw in him.

Rage. Fear.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed.

“No—no, don’t—” His eyes widened, frantic. “Please—don’t—don’t leave me.”

“Go. Please.” you managed to choke out.

And then you fell. Andrei’s arm caught you, yanking your limp body back as you slipped into unconsciousness.

The last thing you saw—or maybe only imagined—was Bucky’s face as he screamed your name like a prayer no god ever answered.

You came to with the sharp sting of blood in your mouth and the icy ache of metal biting into your wrists.

At first, it was hard to tell what was real—the room swam at the edges, spinning in slow, nauseating waves. 

Your head throbbed. Your lips were cracked and dry. And your shoulders screamed from the strain of your arms wrenched behind your back, cuffed so tight that you could already feel the skin splitting beneath the metal. 

Cold concrete bit into your ankles where they were tied to the chair legs. Your knees burned and your spine howled with every twitch of movement.

The drug was still in your system—not fully, but enough to slow your thoughts, to fog the corners of your brain like frost on glass. You blinked, trying to force focus into your vision.

The room was dim, windowless. Cement walls scarred with water stains and age. 

It smelled like damp stone and blood and the metallic tang of old air. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling on a rusted chain, swaying with each low hum that vibrated through the floors—generators, maybe. Or worse.

You were underground. You were alone.

And then you realised—you weren’t.

A figure sat in front of you, legs spread, hands resting loosely on his knees. Like this was casual. Like he was waiting to chat over coffee.

Andrei.

But he wasn’t smiling this time. Not exactly. The amusement from the dinner—the smug, showman’s flair—was gone now. What was left behind was leaner. Sharper. Hungrier. 

He looked at you like prey.

“Tough girl,” he said after a long silence, his voice low and smooth. Too calm. “Didn’t even scream when I hit you.”

He stood slowly, circling the chair. His footsteps were soft, deliberate. You followed him with your eyes but didn’t move your head—your neck was too stiff, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Trained well,” he murmured, coming to stand behind you. You could feel his breath at your ear, warm and intimate and rotten. “Let me guess. Romanov?”

Still, you said nothing.

Silence was all you had left. Silence and the rhythm of your heart, pounding slow and hard in your chest. 

One beat for every second Bucky wasn’t here. One beat closer to whatever came next.

Andrei exhaled, circling around again. He crouched low in front of you, arms braced on his thighs, and looked up at you like you were something he’d found crawling under a rock.

“Almost believed your little act,” he said. “Almost. You were very good. And he—he was damn near convincing. Protective. Devoted. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Barnes might actually care about you.”

The corners of your mouth curled in a humorless smile. “He doesn’t fake things well.”

Andrei raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re not wrong.”

He stood again, restless energy leaking into his movements now. Pacing. Turning. Talking more to himself than you. “But Layna—sweet girl, fucking dumb, but she has good memory. Told me she saw you before. You were blonde, standing behind a Swedish diplomat during a black-tie in Prague.”

You stiffened.

That op had been burned. Buried. There should’ve been no trace left.

Andrei’s grin returned, sharp and self-satisfied. “Told you. Almost.”

He drifted to the side of the room, plucking something off the metal tray on the workbench behind him. You couldn’t see what it was at first—until the low light caught the blade. Polished. Thin. Surgical.

Your blood ran colder.

“You know,” he said casually, running his thumb down the flat of the blade, “I’ve dealt with a lot of spies. A lot of agents. They’re all the same when you strip them down—arrogant, mouthy, trained to suffer but everyone breaks eventually.”

He turned toward you again. His boots scraped slightly across the floor as he came closer, blade gleaming.

“But you,” he said, voice lower now, almost admiring, “you’re different, so impressive. So decorated. Partner to Steve Rogers, mentored by the Black Widow."

He crouched again, placing the knife under your chin—just enough pressure to tilt your head up, to meet his eyes.

“But look at you now,” he murmured. “All alone.”

You glared at him, breathing hard. Your ribs ached with each inhale.

“You’re still not gonna get out of this,” you rasped.

Andrei gave a soft, mocking sound—almost a laugh. “Still fighting,” he said. “I love that.”

He pulled the knife back. Then his hand—the same one holding the blade—cracked across your face.

Your head snapped to the side. Fire bloomed in your cheek. Your vision spun again, and for a moment, you tasted nothing but copper and heat.

You forced your head back up. Stared at him. And then spat blood on his shoes.

His expression twitched—not anger, not quite. But it changed. Shifted. Amused and annoyed all at once.

“So dramatic,” he muttered, straightening up. “Barnes really married a firecracker.”

You smiled, lips cracked and bloodied. “Yeah. He has excellent taste.”

He turned his back to you. You didn’t trust what that meant.

“You know,” he said, picking up something else—a cloth, maybe. “When I first saw the two of you, I thought it was a clever front. Pretty couple, good chemistry and such an easy cover.”

He turned.

“But then I saw his face when we took you.”

Your heart lurched.

“I saw the way he screamed for you. Like he’d rather die right there than let you go. And that,” Andrei said, walking back toward you, “told me everything I needed to know.”

You went still.

“And now,” he said, crouching once more, “we find out just how long it takes to make you scream.”

You didn’t flinch.

But somewhere, deep in your chest, you whispered a prayer.

Not to be saved. But that Andrei would get out alive.

Because you knew Bucky was coming.

And if he didn’t find you soon— He’d tear this whole place apart.

Yelena slammed a fresh mag into her pistol with a sharp click that echoed through the hangar.

“I’m done,” she snapped. “I’m done waiting around like a fucking headless chicken."

Her vest hit the open duffel with a thud, followed by two extra mags, a smoke grenade, and a roll of wire.

Her hands moved fast, efficiently, but her face—her face was all fire, controlled only in the loosest sense of the word.

“Val said to hold,” Ava said from across the room, but even her voice sounded unsure. Her fingers were curled too tightly around the hilt of her blade. “It’s too risky for an extraction.”

Yelena’s jaw clenched as she zipped the duffel shut with a savage pull.

“Bullshit,” she cursed. 

“She said their cover was still good!” John yelled suddenly, pacing across the cracked concrete like a caged animal. His voice cracked from frustration, boots striking hard with each step.

“Cover’s blown, Ava. Raskovic’s got them. We saw that footage from the drone feed. You think Bucky screams like that when things are fine?”

No one answered. The silence that followed was deafening.

They had all heard it— the live feed that cut out halfway through, but not before they heard your slurred voice, the scrape of a chair, and—

Bucky’s scream.

It wasn’t just your name.

It was a sound torn from the center of him, ripped out like something primal—like grief, rage, and helplessness all wrapped into one brutal, broken cry. A roar that echoed through the comms with so much pain it made Ava flinch and John go deadly silent.

It didn’t even sound like a name by the end. It sounded like a man being ripped in half.

“Val’s still trying to assess options,” Ava said finally, quieter. “Wants to keep it clean. Low profile. Wait for the opportune moment.”

Yelena turned sharply. “She wants to wait until there’s nothing left to save.”

“(Y/n)'s not dead,” she added, voice lower now, shaking. “Not yet.”

Across the room, Alexei tightened the last strap of his tac vest and let out a heavy grunt from the loading ramp of the jet.

“Then we go,” he said simply. “Fast. Before is too late.”

It was Ava who moved next. She didn’t say anything.

Just unsheathed her blade, slid it into the thigh holster, and grabbed her gear. 

Bob passed her the radio jammer without a word.

John pulled a second glock off the weapons table, racked it with a sharp motion, and tossed a rifle to Alexei.

“You’re flying.”

Alexei caught it mid-air. “Da. And if Val calls mid-flight?” he added, raising an eyebrow.

“Ignore it,” Yelena muttered, strapping her vest down tight. “Unless you want to hear more bureaucratic bullshit while someone guts her open.”

“Val have our asses for this,” Ava said flatly, though she didn’t slow her pace as she climbed into the jet. “You know that, right?”

John snorted. “What’s new?”

The engines roared to life behind them—a deafening hum of rebellion.

Back in the jungle of halls and locked doors, Bucky was losing his mind.

He had already taken down four men—maybe more. He couldn’t keep count anymore, it was all a blur of fists and fury, of red-soaked sleeves and splintered bone. His knuckles were split wide open, blood running down his fingers like oil, blood that he didn’t even know was his own. 

The once-pristine black suit he’d worn to dinner, tailored, pressed, immaculate was in ruins. The white shirt beneath was streaked with blood. Buttons missing, collar torn, cufflinks long gone.

He looked like a ghost dressed for a funeral.

Yours.

Somewhere behind him, alarms blared in a shrill, endless loop. He had triggered them when he shattered the keypad on the security gate with his bare hand. 

Somewhere ahead—locked doors, concrete walls, goddamn silence.

He didn’t know where they’d taken you.

And that not knowing—that not knowing—was what was killing him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rasping, barely human. “Fuck, fuck—”

He stumbled sideways, shoulder crashing into the wall. The cold bite of cement anchored him for a second, but not enough. 

He was unraveling. Frantic. Adrenaline wearing thin.

He reached for the comms, blood-slick fingers fumbling with the dial, all he heard was static, it was dead, no signal.

His breath hitched in his throat.

“No—no—come on—” He hit it harder this time, palm slamming into the casing with a sickening smack. Blood smeared the plastic. His hands were shaking.

“Come on, come on—please—”

A crackle. Static. Then—

“—arnes?”

Yelena’s voice.

His knees almost gave out.

He pressed himself back against the wall, clutching the comms like it might vanish if he let go.

“I got out,” he breathed. “I got out, I’m—I can’t find her.”

His voice broke. Shattered.

“I can’t—I don’t know where they took her. They drugged her. He had a knife at her throat—I couldn’t fucking stop it—”

He swallowed a sob. Tried to breathe, and failed.

“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known. She knew. She felt it in her gut. And I just let her get taken.” He pushed off the wall, stumbling forward down the corridor, every door a dead end, every hallway too quiet. 

The sound of his shoes—black dress leather, scuffed now, stained red—echoed down the sterile concrete like a countdown.

And he was running out of time.

John’s voice came through next. 

“We’re in the air. Twenty minutes out. Hold tight, Bucky. We’ve got you.”

But the brunette wasn’t listening anymore.

He stopped in the middle of the hall, chest heaving like he’d just sprinted through fire. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, blood dripping to the floor beneath him.

“She was scared,” he whispered. “She told me to go. Begged me.”

The words tasted like glass in his mouth.

“She looked me in the eye like it was the last thing she would ever say to me. And I fucking left her. I left her there.”

His voice cracked again. Barely a sound.

“I can’t lose her.”

His hands curled into fists — raw, trembling. “I can’t.”

He slammed his fist into the wall—vibranium meeting concrete in a sickening crunch—and staggered forward. He was pacing now, wild and cornered and coming undone.

“I know I screw things up. I know I push people too hard. Say the wrong thing or nothing at all. I don’t... I don’t let myself feel shit unless it’s already too late.”

He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth, dragged it down his face.

“But (y/n), I—”

A pause. A beat of silence.

“Every time she disobeys me on a mission, I yell. I chew her out like she’s reckless. Like she’s careless.”

He swallowed hard. Blinked. Focused on the darkness ahead.

“It’s not control. It’s not protocol. I just—fuck, I’m scared she won’t come back.”

He stopped, spine against the wall again. Voice low, almost fagile.

“That I’ll lose her. And it’ll be my fault. Because I never told her what she really means to me.”

Yelena’s voice crackled through the line again. “Then don’t stop.”

A pause.

“You find her.”

His jaw tightened.

“I will,” Bucky said.

The tone in his voice changed—gone was the shaking, the hesitation.

“I swear to god, I’ll find her.”

His steps quickened. He pushed through the next door like it owed him something, storming into a stairwell, eyes wild, movements sharp. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Even if I have to burn this whole fucking place down.”

And he meant it.

He’d burn the compound, the mission, the goddamn world to the ground.

He was coming for you.

a/n: and that's chapter 5!! i hope you enjoyed, and please drop a comment or a reblog, it genuinely gives me so much motivation to give you guys my best! love y'all!

[crossfandomslut]

This series NEEDS to be more popular !!!!!!!! The plot is so original and soooooo fucking good I am DYING FOR MORE 😭💕

A Hand in the Dark Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Hurt/Comfort. Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Suicidal thoughts (neither Bucky nor Reader). Canon-Typical Violence.

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Status: Ongoing.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[crossfandomslut]

AHHHHHAHAHAHHHH IM DYING THIS CHAPTER HIT ALL THE RIGHT SPOTS 😭🫶

A Star Without a Sky (#6)

Pairing: Sheriff! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff. Slow Burn. Smut.

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Word Count: 5k.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

The next night was Bucky’s watch.

He sat motionless in the barn loft, hunched in the hay, one knee raised, and a thick blanket draped over his shoulders like a second skin. The air was cold enough to make the wood groan, and his breath came out like smoke. His rifle lay across his lap.

Then he heard it.

A faint thump of hooves. Slow. Measured. A single rider cutting through the dark.

He leaned forward just enough to part the slats in the wall. He couldn’t make out the face -the rider had a dim lamp strapped to the front of the saddle, throwing just enough light to blur details- but the figure was upright, confident. Not cautious like a traveler. No hesitance. Whoever it was, they knew exactly where they were going.

Bucky shifted, every muscle tensed under his coat.

He already knew.

----

Inside, she was letting her hair loose, getting ready for bed, when she heard a knock on the door.

Not loud or frantic.

Her brow furrowed. It was strange, Sam and Bucky had been taking turns keeping watch from the barn, sure, but neither had ever knocked. Not once. Not even when the snow fell harder or the wind cracked against the shutters. They stayed at a distance, watchful and respectful.

This was different.

She reached for her shawl, pulled it over the thin cotton of her camisole, and padded barefoot to the door.

Another knock. Still no voice.

Her hand paused over the latch. “Yes?” she asked cautiously.

No answer.

She frowned. Crossed to the side window, pulled back the curtain with two fingers, and leaned just enough to peek.

The light of the lamp she held in her hand was dim, but she knew that silhouette.

The slouch of the shoulders. The stance that was too familiar, too casual. A smirk, even without seeing his mouth.

Brock Rumlow.

Her heart stuttered.

“Hey there,” he rasped, his voice muffled by the door.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Rumlow?” she asked.

He shrugged casually. “Was heading back from Pierce’s land. Took care of some things for him, figured I’d check on ya. Saw some fellas on the road lookin’ like they didn’t belong. Thought you might be in need of… neighborly concern.”

She didn’t answer.

“Now don’t be rude,” he went on, “Least you can do is let a man in, out of the cold when he’s gone and worried over you.”

“I’m fine. Thank you. But it’s very late.” She stated.

His voice dropped. “I came all this way...”

She gripped the shawl tightly around her chest. “And I appreciate that. But again, there’s no trouble here.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, and the word rolled like oil. “Open the door. Don’t make me think you’ve forgotten your manners.”

Her bare heel met the floorboard behind her. The lamp in her hand trembled just slightly, the flame swaying inside the glass.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” she said, voice quieter now. “But I don’t open my door at night for uninvited company.”

Silence. Heavy on the other side of the door.

Then a slow, deliberate exhale. “So that’s how it is now?” Rumlow huffed. “Sheriff got you playin’ house so good, you forgot who your neighbors are?”

She swallowed. “I think you should leave.”

“I think I should come in.”

A pause. The latch clicked. Not by her doing.

Her eyes widened. Spun toward the back of the room, but before she could panic, another sound cut through the dark.

The porch boards groaned beneath a sudden weight. Rumlow stepped back instinctively, only to find himself eye to eye with a silhouette stepping up out of the night like a goddamn ghost.

Bucky.

Black leather coat framing his body, rifle on his back, the look on his face -calm, deadly- could’ve stopped a stampede mid-charge.

“Evenin’,” he said coldly.

Rumlow’s hand twitched by his side, but didn’t reach for anything. “Sheriff,” he greeted with a nod, too slow to be polite. “Didn’t see you.”

“Clearly.” Bucky didn’t blink. “You lost?”

Rumlow’s mouth ticked. “Just checkin’ on the widow. Heard there might’ve been trouble. Figured I’d help.”

“She’s got help,” Bucky said. “You’re not needed.”

Rumlow’s jaw ticked. His eyes flicked to the door. Then Back to Bucky.

“Y’know,” he muttered, sniffing as he cocked his head and spat off the edge of the porch. “I really didn’t wanna believe she was spreadin’ her legs for you already. Figured she was just playin’ at bein’ proper, but turns out she’s just another Jezab-”

He didn’t finish the word.

Bucky’s fist cracked across his mouth so fast and brutal that it sounded like bone striking bone.

Rumlow stumbled backward off the porch, boots sliding in the frost, blood blooming across his teeth before he even registered the hit.

He looked up, stunned for a second, with a hand pressed to his mouth and wild eyes, and Bucky was already stepping down after him.

Silent. Deadly.

Rumlow reached for his belt, too slow.

Bucky slammed him against the hitch post before the steel even flashed, a forearm across his chest, pinning him like a nail to a beam. His voice was low. “Try to finish that sentence, and you won’t leave this property with all your teeth.”

Rumlow moved fast.

Too fast.

There was a flash of steel glinting in the moonlight, and then pain. Hot, sharp, and sudden.

The son of a gun had a knife. Small, hidden. Slipped low from his belt and driven into Bucky’s side.

He grunted and staggered a half-step, but didn’t let go.

Didn’t scream.

Instead, he surged forward.

The knife pulled free in the motion, and Rumlow tried to twist out of his grip, but he was already slamming him into the dirt, his full weight driving them both to the ground with a sickening crunch.

They rolled in a mix of mud, frost, fists, and blood.

No rules. Just rage.

Rumlow hit Bucky below the ribs, trying to take advantage of the wound. But he didn’t yield. He never had.

Instead, he caught Rumlow’s collar, yanked his head down, and drove his forehead into the bridge of the other man’s nose with a dull crack.

Blood sprayed between them. Rumlow cursed, blind now, swiping wildly.

Another punch. Bucky’s shoulder screamed with pain, but he didn’t stop. Not until Rumlow’s breath stuttered in his throat.

“You think you can touch her,” he rasped, with clenched jaw and red knuckles, “run your mouth like that?”

Rumlow snarled, dragged them over again, slamming a knee into Bucky’s thigh, but Bucky’s hand found the knife where it had dropped nearby.

He drove it into the earth just beside Rumlow’s head. A warning.

It could’ve been his throat.

Could’ve ended it all.

He leaned close instead, with blood dripping from his brow. “You come back here -so much as breathe in her direction- I’ll bury you so deep, even Pierce hounds won’t find what’s left.”

Rumlow spat again. Didn’t speak.

Bucky pushed off him with a hiss, clamping a hand to his bleeding side, breathing hard. Rumlow limped mere feet away, wiping the blood from his split mouth with the back of his hand, stumbling toward his horse.

“You got no idea what you just done,” he slurred, spitting red into the dirt.

“Keep talkin’. I’ll knock out what’s left of your damn teeth,” Bucky mumbled, half-doubled now by the pain.

Rumlow tried to climb into the saddle, swayed once like a drunk, then clicked his tongue and turned the horse around.

Bucky didn’t move. And then he heard it.

The creak of leather. The familiar click of a revolver.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Rumlow’s voice muttered like poison, barely audible.

Bucky moved just as Rumlow drew, and this time there was no hesitation.

One second the gun was rising, the next, he had closed the gap and struck him clean across the jaw with the butt of his rifle. Rumlow’s hand jerked, the revolver fired once into the dirt, then went skittering across the ground.

This time, Bucky didn’t stop, didn’t slow down.

Fist met flesh. Once. Twice. And again.

Rumlow went still.

Then he knelt beside him, bleeding, panting, rage burning through the pain, and struck him once more. “Seems to me,” Bucky rasped, shaking out his hand, “you’ll want a cozy accommodation in the jailhouse, you son of a bitch.”

He leaned back, breathing hard, slick hair falling in his face. His palm pressed harder to his ribs. Blood soaked the side of his shirt.

He didn’t care.

Not yet.

He’d get him locked up first. Then maybe he’d fall apart.

----

She’d been watching.

The minute Rumlow stilled in the mud, she stepped outside. Not frenzied, not screaming.

Just fast.

If living out here had taught her anything, it was that when men started swinging, you stayed out of the way ‘til one of them stopped moving. And then you acted.

She hadn’t seen the knife in the dark. Just the blur of limbs, the wet thud of fists into flesh, the crunch of boots in the snow-packed mud. But she saw Bucky now, standing like the wind might knock him over, a hand clamped to his side, and blood seeping between his fingers like rust.

Her bare feet padded across the porch. The white of her nightgown glowed under the moon, her loose hair moved with the wind like something out of a fever dream.

“Are you alright?” she asked, already reaching for him. “What did he do?”

“Go back inside,” he muttered, with ragged breath, not meeting her eyes. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“And you’re gonna bleed out in front of my goddamn house.” She was already at his side, her fingers brushing his, trying to lift the fabric at his side. “Let me-”

“Just-” He winced, jaw clenched. “Go cover yourself, put on some shoes.”

Her mouth opened. Shut.

“I reckon I need a hand,” he forced out, eyes flicking to Rumlow’s limp form. “Tying this snake up ‘fore he wakes. Lock him in the barn ‘til morning.”

Her jaw ticked once. She nodded.

Didn’t argue.

She stepped back toward the house just long enough to grab the shawl again and dress her feet, no more. Then she returned, with her sleeves rolled and her lips pressed tightly, all quiet fury and fire, already a rope in hand.

And he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

----

They worked in silence, in the the snow-bitten yard.

Bucky didn’t need to speak; the way his hands moved said enough. Quick, efficient, looping the rope around Rumlow’s wrists, chest, and ankles like he was tying down an unruly steer. Not one knot was wasted. Every pull was tight. Brutally.

She stood beside him, holding low the lantern, the light catching the sweat still clinging to his hairline. He was pale. Shaking. But his hands didn’t falter, not once.

When the last knot was finished, he stood with effort. She didn’t comment on that, just stepped aside as they each took a side of Rumlow’s limp body and dragged it toward the barn.

Once inside, she held the lantern high while Bucky patted Rumlow down, roughly, thoroughly, unapologetic. Pulled a bootknife from one boot, then a thin little thing tucked in the back waistband. Then he tied the last length of rope around the post behind the man’s back and gave it a final jerk that made him groan softly in his stupor.

“Won’t be slicin’ through nothin’ now,” Bucky muttered.

“I’ll get his horse.” She said.

“You don’t gotta-” he started, but she was already walking, camisole swaying with purpose.

She turned once at the barn doors, her hair whipped loose by the wind. “I’m perfectly capable of guiding a horse into my own stable, Bucky,” she said, arching a brow. “And I don’t much fancy draggin’ your half-dead ass into my house again.”

That caught him short. He blinked, jaw half-slacked. Then, slowly, a soundless huff of something close to a laugh pushed through his nose. It hurt -he pressed a hand to his side- but the corner of his mouth lifted just enough.

“You’re bossy when you’re worried,” he rasped.

“And you’re stubborn when you’re bleeding,” she shot back, disappearing into the snow-dusted dark.

----

The fire was going strong now, throwing shadows over the floorboards. The lamp on the table burned low and steadily. Bucky sat stiff in the wooden chair near the hearth, his coat gone, shirt soaked through at the side. His fists were clenched on his thighs, trying not to tremble, trying not to look.

She moved calmly, a bowl of steaming water set on the table beside him, a needle and thread already laid out like a promise.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. How her bare feet padded softly across the wood, how the lamplight traced the shape of her body through the thin cotton of her camisole that had slipped off one shoulder.

He turned his head, clenching his jaw.

“I’ll take care of it,” he rasped, reaching for the buttons at his shirt with one blood-slicked hand.

“No, you won’t,” she said gently, stepping in front of him, “You’ll sit there, and let me do it.”

He went still.

She reached for the buttons, and he flinched.

“I ain’t gonna bite you, Bucky.” Her voice dipped softly. “Or steal your dignity.”

He cleared his throat. “Ain’t that. Just… I can undress myself.”

That made her pause and sigh.

“I already saw all of you, remember?” she murmured. “Bathed you while you were unconscious. Got blood, sweat and piss off places you probably don’t even wanna know. Only difference now is you’re awake to be embarrassed about it.” The smile she gave him wasn’t a teasing one.

He didn’t move. Just stared, no less mortified.

“And I know you’re tryin’ real hard not to look at me right now,” she added, softer still, her fingers still working the buttons of his bloodied shirt, “so I’m tellin’ you, it’s alright. I ain’t scandalized by you.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t dare.

She glanced up, caught the flicker in his jaw.

“You’ve already seen me like this before. Camisole’s the same as a working dress, less fabric maybe, but same job. No need to act like I’m sittin’ here in the flesh.”

She leaned back a little, not stepping away, just giving him space to meet her eyes if he could. “We’re adults. It’s only weird if you pretend it ain’t happenin’.”

He still didn’t look at her. Not fully.

Because the problem wasn’t that he didn’t look at her to not seem socially improper. The problem was that every time he caught even the edge of her body -the skin between her collarbones, the sway of her hips beneath that soft cotton- his hands itched to do things he shouldn’t. To reach. To fist her hair. To drag her into his lap and trace every inch of her skin with his mouth.

“I’m lookin’ enough,” he muttered, voice thick. “Trust me.”

The edge of her mouth twitched, just a hint of a smile. Then she peeled the shirt open with care, pulling it away from the wound with gentle fingers. He winced when the fabric tugged at the flesh, and she soothed the sting with her palm on his uninjured side, then turned toward the cupboard and pulled out the small glass vial he already hated on sight.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Yes,” she said back, her tone not leaving room for argument.

“That’s turpentine.”

“And this is a stab wound.” She uncorked the bottle, not even looking at him now, focused on pouring a clean cloth full of it. “You’d rather fester? Want the doctor to carve your side open in a week and scoop out the rot?”

His jaw clenched. He said nothing.

“Thought so,” she added, and came back to him, with the soaked cloth in her hand. “Now hold still.”

He didn’t. Not quite. His whole body jerked when the cloth hit his skin, the breath shoving out of his chest like a curse. One hand fisted on the edge of the table hard enough to make it creak.

“Jesus-”

She pressed firmer, not unkindly, but without relenting. “Burns like hell. That’s how you know it’s workin’.”

She dabbed until the bleeding slowed and the angry red around the gash faded to a cleaner pink. Then, pulling her sewing kit closer, she threaded a needle.

“It’s clean through the flank,” she muttered, half to herself, testing the knot. “Didn’t get deep enough to gut. We stitch.”

Bucky gave a single grunt of agreement.

His flesh pulled under her touch, but he didn’t flinch again. He just watched the way her brows knit, the way her lip tucked inward as she tied the last knot. Then she wiped the area again with what was left of the turpentine and stood up.

“Stay there,” she ordered, already crossing the room. “I’ve got pine sap near the stove.”

He leaned back slightly, resting one elbow against the edge of the table, watching her grind the resin down in a small mortar. She added a few drops of oil -linseed, maybe- and what looked like a spoonful of honey, mixing it into a soft paste.

He squinted at it. “Is all that really necessary?”

She paused, lifted her eyes to his like she couldn’t quite believe him. “No. I just like playin’ apothecary while men bleed out in my kitchen.”

His mouth tugged at one corner, but before he could respond, she went on, “How in God’s name did you live this long, if your concept of wound dressin’ is whiskey and spit?”

He gave a little huff, glancing away. “Didn’t say spit.”

“Didn’t have to.” She crossed the space slowly, the little bowl in one hand. “That blush gave you away.”

“I ain’t blushin’,” he muttered.

She knelt beside him. “You are,” she said softly. “And you’re not used to this.”

He didn’t answer.

“Let me take care of you,” she said, quieter now. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me.”

She dipped two fingers into the salve and then brushed his side. It was cool when it touched him, but her hands were not. They lingered. Just a second longer than they had to.

Her gaze flicked up briefly, and their eyes met.

She didn’t speak. Just smoothed the last of the resin gently across his side, her fingers skimming close to the line of his ribs, then down. He was breathing harder now.

His hand twitched on his knee. Like maybe he’d reach for her.

But he didn’t.

She reached for a fresh bandage and began wrapping it carefully, perhaps more carefully than necessary.

“You’re doin’ it again,” he rasped.

“Doin’ what?”

“Touchin’ me like I’m somethin’ that might break if you press too hard.”

Her fingers slowed. Then stilled.

She didn’t apologize.

Didn’t pull away.

“Well, maybe,” she murmured, “you’re not as unbreakable as you think you are.”

He swallowed once. His voice, when it came, was rougher than before.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll forget I got a knife wound.”

She looked up.

Her eyes met his and then flicked, just for a heartbeat, to his lips before rising again to the pale blue of his stare.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. Softly, a little breathless. But not playing dumb. Not teasing.

He exhaled slowly. His gaze dropped to her hands still resting near his ribs, then climbed back up, fixing on her face.

“Means that I’m tired of pretendin’,” he said. Voice low. Rough. “Tired of actin’ like your hand on my arm don’t feel like mercy. Tired of sayin’ it’s for show when I wait by the office door knowin’ the hour you’ll come. Tired of sittin’ composed across from you like my thoughts ain’t always further along than my manners.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. He didn’t wait for one.

“I’m tired of the game,” he said, quieter now. “And now it’s come to an end. Rumlow’s done.” His gaze flicked to the bandage she’d just wrapped. “Can’t pin the orchard on him. But what he tried today… I’ve got enough to hold him. Trespassin’, attemptin’ to kill an officer.”

Silence stretched between them. He ran a thumb over the bandage at his side, then set his gaze on the floor.

“We don’t need to be seen in town anymore, don’t need to keep puttin’ on a show. Just wanted you to know I ain’t been fakin’ a damn thing. Ain’t touchin’ anyone else. Ain’t thinkin’ of anyone else. And I ain’t expectin’ anything back from you, just…” He shook his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I couldn’t leave that unsaid.”

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t dare.

She didn’t fidget. Just watched him like she was trying to memorize every line of his face while he looked away. Then, slowly, she slid a hand just enough to rest over his, where it lay in his lap, brushing his battered knuckles like the answer she hadn’t found words for.

“I thought I was the only one playin’ pretend-,” she said, “that you didn’t affect me the way you do.”

That made him look up. Slowly. Carefully.

“I feel real foolish for bein’ a grown woman scared to want what’s been sittin’ right in front of me.”

His gaze widened a fraction, and his hand twitched under hers, like he meant to reach for her, but then, he didn’t move. Not quite. That hesitation slipped in on him again.

“I ain’t got much to offer you,” he mumbled, voice barely there. “Ain’t… as educated, or gentle as I oughta be. And I-”

He didn’t finish.

Because she leaned in.

Pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. Then to his cheek. His temple. His split brow.

Tiny, reverent kisses that scattered across his skin like blessings, like he was something worth worshipping.

“You’re tired,” she murmured against his jaw. “And bruised. You’ve bled for me. And you still think you gotta sell yourself like a horse with bad teeth?”

He let out a shaky breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. His eyes closed, as if her mouth near his skin was too much to bear.

“You don’t gotta offer me anything, Bucky,” she murmured. “You already gave me more than I knew to want.

He turned then, slowly, and looked at her properly. His hand finally moved, lifted to touch her wrist, her cheek, the line of her jaw. Like, he didn’t believe she was real. Like he might wake up and find himself bleeding in the snow again, with only the wind for company.

“Tell me this ain’t pretend,” he said hoarsely.

She leaned forward again, brushing the corner of his mouth with her lips once more, firmer this time. Slower.

“It ain’t.”

His eyes didn’t move from hers. Not even when she pulled back just enough to breathe.

He was the one who closed the distance this time.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, not at first. Just the press of his mouth to hers, careful and uncertain, like he was asking permission. She answered him with a tilt of her chin, a sigh against his lips, her hand sliding from his cheek to his nape to keep him close.

Then it changed.

Turned hungrier. Needier. Deeper.

She tasted like tea and honey and something warm he didn’t have a name for. His hand slid to her waist, digging his fingers through the thin cotton, and she gasped softly into his mouth. Her own hand slipped up under his shirt, grazing the hot line of skin just above the bandage.

He hissed -barely- but it was enough to break the spell.

She pulled back instantly, with her palms braced against his chest, eyes wide with concern.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, through ragged breath. “Just- keep goin’.”

“James Buchanan,” she said flatly, hands still on him, “you just got a knife in the side less than an hour ago.”

He had the decency to look sheepish.

“I swear,” she muttered, standing up, fussing with the mortar like she needed something to do with her hands. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked being bled.”

“I don’t,” he rasped, but his mouth quirked a little. “But it’s a hell of a thing to finally have you kissin’ me.”

She paused, just long enough to meet his gaze.

Then- “Come on now. Bed.”

“I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“No you won’t.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want to-”

“You already slept there,” she cut him off. “And the roof didn’t fall on top of you. Come on, help me get you to the room.”

He muttered something that sounded like a protest but let her slip her arm beneath his and guide him, slowly, down the hallway.

Once inside, she nudged the door shut with her hip and turned down the bed.

“Alright, come on,” she murmured, reaching for the waistband of his pants. “Ain’t puttin’ those muddy things on my sheets.”

Bucky froze like a weed caught in a sudden frost. “I can -uh- handle it.”

She gave him a look. “You got a knife wound, and your hands are still tremblin’. Let me.”

He winced, and not from pain this time. She helped him ease the garments down and revealed his drawers. A worn pair, with a half-unraveled seam at one hip.

She paused, then huffed softly. “Well. Someone’s gotta talk to the mayor about raisin’ the sheriff’s salary. We can’t have the lawman of the county runnin’ ‘round in frayed underthings.”

He gave her a long, slow look from under his lashes, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or die.

“Well, I wasn’t plannin’-” he muttered a curse. “They are warm.” He mumbled as he helped himself onto the bed.

She tucked the quilt up his chest after he settled in, then smoothed the edge with care.

And then he said it, so soft it barely made it past his lips.

“…Will you stay?”

Her fingers stilled over the edge of the blanket.

He wasn’t looking at her. Couldn’t. His ears were pink again like he was ten years younger and askin’ some girl to contra-dance.

Her heart squeezed.

“Yeah,” she murmured, brushing hair from his brow. “I’ll stay.”

So she blew out the lamp and climbed in beside him, close enough to feel his warmth.

----

After a while, her voice stirred the silence.

“How are you gonna deal with him tomorrow?” she asked softly. “I can lend you the cart, but if he’s awake and resists…”

Bucky shifted slightly against the mattress, just enough to turn toward her. The motion pulled at his side, and he winced, his breath catching. She moved instinctively, ghosting a hand toward him, but he caught her wrist lightly before she touched his skin.

“I’m alright,” he murmured. “Just gotta move slow.”

She didn’t pull her hand back. Let it rest against the mattress, warm between them.

He exhaled.

“Sam’ll be here by midmornin’,” he added, keeping his voice low. “We talked it through. If the one on duty doesn’t show up at the office by a certain hour, the other comes lookin’. No questions. Just comes.”

She nodded in the dark. “Good.”

They lay quiet again, listening to the fire crackle in the other room, to the soft gusts of wind tapping against the shutters. Then-

“He’s not gettin’ near you again.” It wasn’t said with bravado. It was a promise, not a boast.

She shifted closer. “I know.”

Then, unable to stop herself, her hand rose between them, slow and sure, and brushed the rough line of his cheek. Her fingers moved gently, like she was mapping every edge of his jaw, every patch of stubble.

"Instead," she whispered, her thumb ghosting the corner of his mouth, "I get you close."

Bucky closed his eyes at the contact. His Adam's apple bobbed. He let her touch linger and didn’t move, didn’t breathe more than necessary. His fingers curled in the quilt. A quiet, nearly strangled curse slipped from his lips.

Because she was there, right there, all softness and warmth, and he couldn’t even pull her in, couldn’t roll and pin her beneath him the way his whole damn body was begging him to.

He turned his head slightly, eyes still closed, trying to shield himself from the sight.

She caught it. The retreat. The stiffness.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

His jaw tensed. “They ain’t proper,” he muttered.

A pause. Then her voice again, low, right against his ear.

“If it helps,” she said, “I’m not having proper thoughts either, Sheriff.”

The way she pronounced his rank curled over her tongue like a sin and went straight to his groin. He groaned, tipping his head back into the pillow.

“No,” he rasped, “it doesn’t help to know that.”

Her hand began to retreat from his cheek, slow as if unsure. "Should I leave?"

His bruised hand caught her wrist before he even thought to move. “No. Fuck. No, just-”

He eased himself down onto his back again, gritting his teeth when the wound pulled again. A low curse hissed from between his lips.

As if taking a cue, she shifted closer, the mattress dipping with her weight. Her head found his chest, and her hand settled just beneath the bandage, warm over the plane of his stomach, like she belonged there.

He felt her hesitate, then press herself against his uninjured side with careful intent.

"You should sleep," she murmured.

He almost fired off some crude reply, some road-worn jab about what he’d rather be doing than sleeping, but caught himself before it left his mouth. She wasn’t some saloon girl or roughneck buddy from the trail who wouldn’t have blinked if he bled out. So he swallowed it.

Instead, he grunted. Low. Noncommittal.

But his body slowly started to register everything at once now that the adrenaline had burned off. The throb at his side. The bruise on his ribs. The ache along his jaw. The pulsing at his brow. The ghost of her hand pressed into him. The softness of the bed beneath him. The clean scent of her hair. The warmth of her body beside his.

Maybe sleep didn’t sound so laughable after all.

Next Chapter

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Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[crossfandomslut]

pov: I find a good smut fic but it includes a daddy kink

[crossfandomslut]

So It Goes...

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x mate!reader (Reader is apart of the Dawn and Night Court), former lover x reader

T/W: Sexual themes and allusions to sex

Walking out onto the balcony, [y/n] was met with an expectant sight. Tall, handsome but not dark. 

“I didn’t need your protection from that mongrel brute.”

Mother save her from the ego of males, she silently prayed as her eyes rolled.  “Why don’t you admit that you like me?” 

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat as she realized she fell into his trap. His proud challenging gaze and devilish smirk were evidence enough. “You first, Firefly.” 

She supposed she could but was this the time? Leaning on the balcony’s balustrade, she took in the night before her. The balcony held an autumn warmth despite the chill that had set across Day’s desert terrain. 

However, her words of gratitude died on her lips as a touch grazed her upper arm. His heat spread across the lines of her bandages, the only evidence left of the failed assassination attempt. “Why was this not properly healed? Was Thesan too cock drunk to help his childhood friend turned Court emissary?” 

“Do not talk about Thesan that way!” Ripping her arm from his hold, she glared at him. But the outburst was more out of anger for herself than Eris. Anger towards herself for failing to be there for her childhood friend when he had only ever been there for her. Even when she was a traitor to her Court while she helped her family in the Night Court. “The blade was covered in Aspidistra.” She sighed, “He did all he could, but sometimes things need to heal naturally.” 

“And the bodyguard?” The edge to Eris’ voice was not lost on her. She felt the same way when Thesan suggested it. Despite her protests, she knew her friend would only let her attend this meeting if she brought Jax. Beautiful, blonde broad Jax whose smile rivaled the sun. Who only ever wished to shine that light onto her. 

“As a general myself, I didn’t know suffocating you counted as his job.” Eris snidely commented. He knew that this was dangerous, that she was dangerous to both himself and his plans. And yet, he couldn’t stop. Damn the Mother and this female. 

“Am I interrupting something?”  An unapologetic voice spoke, breaking the tension.“Please tell me no because I surely want to join. I would love nothing more than to be between your twin flames.” 

“Lord Helion.” Returning Helion’s smile, [y/n] exhaled the breath she was holding.

“I had to fight your soldier to get in here [y/n].” Joining the pair on the balcony, Helion curiously eyed the fireling heir. “How did you get in here Eris?” 

Eris took a moment to consider. Or rather pretend to consider, his cryptic smile offering no truth. “As lord of this court, you should know of the many doors in this hall.” 

“Yes,” Helion began matching Eris’ smile before glancing at [y/n].  “Especially the ones left purposefully open.” 

As if tired of Eris games, Helion turned his attention fully to [y/n]. Bridging the gap between them, Helion took her hand in his.  “A little flower told me you’ve left your soldier quite unsatisfied in recent months.” 

“My Lilli telling you sordid stories amidst the throes of passion?”  She asked, her tone amused. How it related to her best friend’s fun with Helion she didn’t dare or care to guess. But she didn’t mind that her best friend spoke of her and Jax. She and Jax were a thing of the past and Lord Helion the diary of fae pleasures. 

“Well if you joined us, you could have done it yourself.” As he kissed the back of her hand, [y/n] realized she was wrong. Helion hadn’t been tired of Eris’ smoke and mirrors but rather was toying with Eris. Toying with the intention to figure them out. She wondered if Eris knew. 

With a clearing of his throat, Eris decided he was tired of this farce. He knew it would show weakness but the choice was between a throat clear or ripping Helion’s throat out. 

At the sound of the interruption, Helion’s eyes swept across Eris’ figure. A knowing smile spread across Helion’s face as if the Lord of this Court wouldn’t know what was brewing between them.  

Dropping [y/n]’s hand and stepping back, Helion put his hand over his heart in mock deference. “Forgive me, I’ll leave this healing salve on the table for you [y/n].”  But turning once more back to them, Helion offered a final smile, “Though selfishly,  I did very much enjoy the scent of your arousals.” 

Once Helion was gone, Eris allowed himself the moment to roll his eyes. With his gaze on [y/n], on the soft planes of her face and beautiful eyes, he knew Helion was right. If this was a taste of the smell, he would never survive this. He knew he would never survive them. 

“What?” She demanded, rueing his gaze. “What, Eris?” 

“Nothing,” Moving in closer, Eris traps her between his body and the balustrade, a pregnant space between them. “I just find it curious that he has been left unsatisfied since after the Mountain.”  With a step forward, their bodies almost touch. “Is it because of me?” 

Eris was shameless for her truths. Shameless in knowing that the bond, an ancient and primal thing, demanded nothing but clear devotion from them both. No matter how hard they fought it. 

Looking into his amber eyes, the gold flecks within them seemed to shimmer. The breath she took, didn’t steady her heart as she hoped. Instead, it made her realize how she was a hostage to her feelings in his gold cage. “A lot of things happened after the Mountain.” 

Watching her, Eris realized denial never looked so good on anyone as it did on her. 

“Mmhm,” The sound was a deep pleasant hum, and his lips tilted up teasingly. “And yet your gaze tells me differently.” 

“And what of yours?” She threw it back at him, “You are not above it all Eris. I saw your envy in Jax’s hand on my back, in Cassian’s hug, in Rhysland’s hand kiss, in Helion’s -“ 

His gaze hardened with each mention of a name until the words burst out of his mouth. “I do not need you to remind me of the casual touches you so willingly allow those males.” 

“Why? Say it.” The conflict in his eyes did not dissuade her from pressing further. “The choice is yours, Eris.” All the hardness in her voice softened, “I am yours to keep or I am yours to lose.”

“Vulnerability from the indomitable [full name]?” Eris’ deep voice fell into a conspiring whisper as he softly gazed at [y/n].  

Holding his gaze, [y/n] kept her voice steady. “Sensitivity from the unconscionable Eris Vanserra?” As his name left her mouth, his warm hand cupped her cheek. With each gentle caress, she found herself momentarily obnoxiously frozen beneath his touch.  

Neither of them knew who leaned in first. All they knew was that there was a space between them and then it was dwindling. Knew that they were gazing at each other and then suddenly their eyes were closed as their noses brushed against each other. Knew that they had had their own breaths and then suddenly they were sharing one as their lips brushed against each other’s. 

“We can’t do this.” [y/n] murmured breathlessly, as her fingers brushed the visible skin by his collar. The smooth warm expanse of skin was the only temptation she would give herself as all her strength went to not crushing her lips against his. 

“I know.” Eris wantonly replied, tilting her head to the side allowing him the reprieve of getting closer to her. Of allowing him to nuzzle his nose against hers as he tested his self control of her lips being a fraction of a space away. 

“We must be careful. If anyone were to find out, it would be disastrous.” He forced himself to not think of how sweet she felt in his hands. 

“Yes.” She forced herself to not think of how fast his heart was beating against her hand. 

Neither of them moved from their shared proximity despite those evident truths. With their foreheads leaning against each other, she supposed it would paint quite a pretty picture. She could see it now, Freye would call it ‘The Mating Bond: A Choice’. 

As if the Mother knew neither of them had the strength to separate, the door to her suite opened and closed. While the intrusion was not welcome, it was necessary. 

“Lord Eris.” Like a sunbeam breaking through a cloud, Jax watched out onto the balcony.  “I wasn’t aware sneaking into places was your thing.” 

[y/n] never quite understood when people spoke of a ‘sexy smoldering look’, how can burning slowly be sexy? But a flash, a flash spoke of uninhibited and unconscious things, of involuntary sparks that fan a fire. 

Like the flash of frustration across Eris’ face and the clench of his jaw from this interruption further sparking the flame of arousal burning inside of  her. 

She knew she could rationalize it all away. Maybe it was their placement in the Day Court. A court known for its prioritization of love and pleasure that had kept her in a constant state of arousal since her arrival. Having nothing to do with her brush with death a day ago nor arriving and seeing Eris. Eris who swaggered in looking like a man with nothing but free time to tease her. Or maybe, it was her close proximity to her former lover who once brought her immense pleasure and would do it again, if she only asked.

Or maybe, it was more primitive than that. Maybe having two handsome generals fighting over her and their constant snips for possession of her were going to drive her to insanity. Death by lust, she wondered how many beings died this way. 

“I think it speaks more about your skills than  mine when you left such a wide window of space.” Eris’ derisive tone was a stark contrast to his polite smile. 

Laughing mirthless, Jax clapped his hands behind his back. “Or maybe I let you ‘sneak in’.” 

“Did you?” 

Sensing this would only end badly, [y/n] stepped in between them. “I think it’s time to retire.”

Agreeing with the sentiment, Jax extended his right arm toward the door. “You heard the lady, goodnight lordling.” 

Stepping closer to [y/n] once more, Eris held Jax’s gaze as he leaned in to whisper in [y/n]’s ear.  “You should know by now that I always play to keep. Never to lose, Firefly.” 

And like a flame extinguished, Eris Vanserra winnowed away. Leaving [y/n] cold and short of breath by the implication. When the bond snapped, he called it a game but his words now spoke of intention. An intention to not run or reject the bond. She understood why many spoke of the mating bond as a blessing and a curse. 

“You need to be careful. I trust you, and your decisions but I don’t trust Eris. Why was Eris here? The assassination attempt very well could have been from Autumn, Beron is unpredictable. Or even Rhysland, we don’t truly know the motives of the Night Court.”

More like you don’t know the Night Court motives, she thought as she turned toward the balcony’s view. “Jax, I know Thesan sent you to watch me but I take very good care of myself. The assassin was literally dead before anyone even noticed he was there. You can relax and think of this as a vacation.”

“This is no vacation. You don't even believe that.” He joined her against the balustrade. 

“You’re right,” She sighed, wrapping an arm around herself. “We don’t know a lot, which is why we are here.” It was another pretty lie. 

Placing his hand over hers, Jax spoke with utter devotion. “I am here because I want you to be safe.” 

“Thank you.” It would be so easy to cup his face and enjoy the brush of his scruff against her hand. Easy to accept the offer of marriage sitting on the tip of his tongue. But it would all be a lie. It was after the Mountain. Now his sunshine burned and suffocated her. Now, she craved the warmth from a roaring fire and not a strong sunbeam. “I’m going to bed. If the couch is too rough, you can always take the suite next door.”

“This is Day, [y/n].” He called after her, watching her retreating figure. “These couches are made for comfort.”

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! This is partly inspired by the song So It Goes by Taylor Swift and the show My Lady Jane

[crossfandomslut]

Me trying to convince everyone that Eris isn't this masculine, Colleen Hoover li looking guy, and that he actually looks like Cardan but with red hair and whiskey eyes:

[crossfandomslut]

I just reread this series and fell in love all over again this author is so wickedly talented !!!!!! Crying over my soft sweet Eris ❤️❤️❤️

chapter xxv – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count:  4,100+

masterlist

Y/N wanted to wake up to Eris’ warmth wrapped around her, to have his autumn scent taking over her senses once again, and his strong arms reminding her that she was protected, safe. 

But Eris had left hours ago – and so stealthily that Y/N had no idea when. 

Instead, Y/N had shot up in bed breathing heavily. 

There had been a surge of power. So strong that it jolted the witch from her deep sleep. 

Both her movements and the surge woke Ronan up, growling as if there was danger in the bedroom. 

“Eris,” Y/N breathed. 

Somehow she knew the power had erupted from him. 

Something was wrong – very wrong. Even the night Eris had defeated Beron, even the night Y/N followed him deep into the forest to test his new strength…she had never felt such power come from Eris. 

If he were using it now, then he was under some sort of attack. 

Y/N jumped out of bed, flinging off her nightgown and threw on trousers and a tunic – quicker than worrying herself with a dress or a damn corset. 

If she was off to battle, she would order a sentry to fetch her the same armor Eris had forced upon her before. 

But Y/N needn’t look far, for as soon as she flung the door open, she was met with a handful of sentries standing guard outside her chambers.

Amongst them were all of Eris’ smoke hounds. And as soon as they heard their master’s mate open the door, they had shot to their feet and whined with anticipation. 

Y/N’s eyes raced amongst the sentries, half expecting Lucien to be with them.

But Eris’ brother was nowhere to be found, which meant he was surely with him. 

“Where is the High Lord?” She asked curtly. 

“There was rebellion in Drumenthoul,” the highest ranking responded quickly. She recognized him well enough to know his name: Captain Respen. 

Her brow furrowed. “Lord Muiris’ demesne?” 

“Yes, my lady. It is one of Autumn Court’s largest cities. Its subjects attacked the manor of the late lord, after they heard of the attack on you. His son retaliated, using what was left of his father’s army to wreak havoc on his own people. But it appeared to be an attempt at a trap.” 

Y/N’s stomach dropped. “Walk with me,” she ordered all of them. 

Instantly, they fell into step with her. 

“Ready my horse with my weapons,” she continued. One of the sentry rushed ahead to do as she asked, making his way to the stables. “I must go to him.” Then she looked at Captain Respen and silently told him to continue.  

“Before the attacks started, Lord Muiris’ son had called for reinforcements...from any Lord who did not agree with the High Lord’s usurping.” 

“They knew Eris would aid his people and they used that to lure him intro a trap with a bigger enemy than he could have anticipated,” Y/ noted aloud. 

“Precisely, my lady.” He didn’t hide how impressed he was with her intelligence. She had the makings of a High Lord's wife, despite her mortal and witchling upbringing.

“Do not fear though, Lady Y/N. Eris anticipated such an attack. He brought his best infantry.” Respen hesitated before he added, “And he has gained much power since becoming High Lord.” 

Y/N knew Respen was trying to calm her, to assure her Eris couldn’t be in danger. But no words would calm her.

“And you were left behind to guard me?” Annoyance was clear in her voice. 

“Protecting the High Lord’s mate is no lowly task, Lady Y/N. It is a great honor. The High Lord will take no chances at you being attacked while he is preoccupied with civil war. It would be the exact time for an assassination attempt.” 

When they reached the courtyard, Aengus was indeed ready, with her sword, bow, and satchel of arrows attached to the saddle.

But Y/N suddenly remembered that Drumenthoul was on the north coast of the court.

She had included cardiography in her Autumn Court studies. And it would take days to reach. 

Why had no one said anything?

“Can someone winnow me?” She asked. 

All the soldiers shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her gaze. 

Captain Respen was the one who broke the silence. “We are under strict orders to do no such thing.”

He at least had the decency to look guilty about it. 

That was why no one had questioned her orders to grab her mount: she would never get close to the danger in time.  

“Lucien is with them?” She asked quietly. 

He nodded. 

“So I am to just wait here?” 

Before anyone could answer her, there was another surge of power. 

Between the courtyard of the Forest House and the outer gates, there was a half mile. 

But despite the distance, Y/N could see him – no – she could feel Eris. And she sensed that something was not right. 

The next second, she was jumping onto Aengus, and digging her heels into gelding. The horse needed no other signals to throw him into a run. 

“Accompany Lady Y/N,” was the last thing Y/N heard before she was in the forests and meadows between the courtyard and outer wall. 

When she was close enough to take in her mate, she noted that while Eris was walking on his own, his entire body was tense. 

A gust of wind hit her. “He is injured…faebane…faebane…faebane.”

Another gust of wind. “He took…his beastly form.”

Y/N had heard of the High Lord’s beast form from a night of drinking with Cassian. He tried to scare her by sharing the murderous creatures she could stumble upon in the Prythian wilderness. 

“But none are more terrifying than the beasts of High Lords," he had whispered to her for dramatic effect. Then went into great detail of the few times in his centuries when he witnessed Rhysand’s own beastly form. 

Y/N still didn’t know much about them, but she did know it drained one's power. It was no parlor trick, but a skill that only a powerful High Lord could wield – and use sparingly. 

That must have been the blast of power that had woken her up. 

When she was just a few yards away, Y/N swung her leg over the side of the saddle and jumped while Aengus still cantered and had yet to come to a stop. 

“Eris!” Y/N gasped at the sight of him. 

Though he walked on his own, Lucien watched his eldest brother with caution a few steps behind him.

And now Y/N could see that Eris had at least twenty arrows sticking out of his back. 

Then she heard the galloping of her guard catching up to them. 

As soon as Eris’ spotted them, his posture straightened even more. 

He does not want to appear weak in front of his men, Y/N realized. 

“The infantry?” Y/N asked the two of them. 

“Only a handful lost,” Lucien told her. “But many injured. They are being winnowed. The rest will return on horseback.”

Y/N turned to her guard. “Ready the infirmary tents! The injured will be returning any moment. Have a female alert the human women that I will need their help. They will know what to prepare.” 

Captain Respen barked orders at the others, but he and another lingered. 

“Leave us,” she ordered them, more harshly than she ever would if the situation did not call for it. 

Respen eyed Eris. 

“Do as my mate demands, Captain.” The High Lord finally spoke.

Y/N was surprised by how strong his voice sounded, when it was becoming more and more clear to her how much pain he was in. 

Respen and his lieutenant nodded before galloping back to the Forest House. 

Once they were out of eyesight, Eris fell to his hands and knees. 

“Eris!” Y/N whispered, not wanting any fae senses picking up their panic. 

“For Cauldron’s sake!” Lucien growled as he helped his brother off the ground with Y/N. 

Y/N carefully put one of his arms over his shoulder, while Lucien did the same with his other arm.

“How bad?” She hissed.

“I shall live,” Eris muttered. 

His pale skin was not its usual glow, but sickly looking. His hair was covered in mud and blood – and she could only hope most of it was not his. 

“It’s the faebane,” she acknowledged. 

Eris and Lucien looked at her with surprise. But she ignored them. 

“Can you ride?” She whispered to Eris. 

He gave her a shaky nod. “Behind you,” he clarified. 

She nodded and whistled for Aengus. “Lucien, help me get him in the saddle.”

Y/N climbed on first, and pulled him up as Lucien lifted from the ground. 

Eris growled at the pain, making her heart race with panic. 

As soon as he was sitting, Y/N gave orders. “Lucien, get a cot brought to my witchery.  Do it yourself and tell no one. Discretion is key.”

Lucien nodded and winnowed to the Forest House. 

“You want to show them how strong you are, then show them,” Y/N muttered before she urged Aengus into a gallop. 

When they got closer, she softly urged him. “Take the reigns.”

Eris did as she said. 

Y/N knew why Eris did not winnow back into the Forest House on his own. She knew why he would not show pain, despite his back being littered with faebane-poisoned arrows. There were those who still questioned his power. Therefore, he would not show weakness. 

Instead, it looked like two lovers returning after sharing a relieved embrace. 

Y/N jumped down from Aengus and handed the horses to a stableboy, making sure not to watch Eris with worry as he dismounted on his own. 

“Make sure all the healers have been alerted,” Eris told his sentries. Then he looked over his shoulder of the forest and meadow they had just come from. 

With the wave of his hand, a hundred tents appeared out of nowhere. Healer tents for the injured that would soon be brought back. 

“Come,” Y/N offered her hand to her mate. 

Eris didn’t hesitate, taking it and letting her lead him into the Forest House. 

——

Y/N had offered Eris a pain relieving tonic, but he refused it. 

Not having time to argue with him, she fluttered about her witchery, brewing a potion and cutting herbs. 

All while Eris sat patiently on the cot Lucien had snuck in.

Within minutes, Y/N had a healing paste ready. 

“The arrows,” she gulped. “Shall I remove them one by one or all at once?”

Eris met her gaze over her shoulder, “All at once.”

“I will help,” Lucien offered. 

“Touch me with your grimy hands and I will set you alight,” Eris growled in warning. 

Y/N ignored the outburst. “Ready?” She whispered. 

He nodded. 

But Y/N moved in front of him and crouched before him. She took both of his hands in her own, squeezing them lovingly.

She closed her eyes and started chanting a spell.

And Eris immediately felt his back start to heat. 

Even as a bystander, Lucien felt the witch’s power fill the room. 

Eris almost forgot he was about to suffer, too enamored with watching his mate take over with her magic. 

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but they looked at no one and nothing. 

Lucien watched as they glazed over in white, which they had all put together was only when she was stretching her magic to new and powerful heights. 

And then, as if there was an invisible lasso around all of the two dozen arrows in his back, Y/N’s spell got louder and then abruptly stopped. Along with her spell ending, the arrows were all ripped from Eris’ back in one pull. 

But the only noise that came from the High Lord was a low growl. 

Y/N gasped at the exertion of power, and was quickly trying to catch her breath. 

But her eyes had returned to normal. 

Lucien leaned over to look at Eris’ back. “Well, you sure got all of them.” Then he bent down to pick up the fallen arrows from the ground, burning them in his palm until they were ash. 

“You better clean that up,” Y/N warned as she saw it flutter to the floor. 

She turned her attention back to Eris. “Alright?”

He just nodded. 

“I must clean the wounds individually now,” she told him gently. “Some will need stitching, but not many.”

Silence filled the room as the real work began. Y/N treated Eris’ wounds as if he were made of glass. She was gentle and kind, always giving him a moment when his body tensed with pain. But he never complained and barely made a sound. 

“It was not…it was not how it should be,” Lucien finally spoke after some time. He was sitting on the ground now, knees propped up as he watched from the corner.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with confusion. 

Lucien watched Eris, who would not meet his gaze. “Beron’s beast form was that of a multi-tailed fox – still a tremendous size – and with the wings of an owl. Smaller than the beasts of the other High Lords, but still ever so deadly.” 

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And…?”

But Lucien didn’t speak. 

“I was something else,” Eris finally answered, trying to pass through the subject. 

“Something more,” Lucien corrected darkly. 

“I don’t understand,” she admitted quietly. 

But Eris just stared at the ground, his face emotionless. 

Lucien cleared his throat awkwardly, but continued. “He too turned into a fox, but that of a bear – something to rival even Tamlin. He had the antlers of our court’s stag. And the flames…he was engulfed in flames.”

Was it fear in Lucien’s tone... or awe? Y/N couldn’t figure it out. 

Lucien finally finished with, "The arrows you pulled from his back are just those of hundreds that failed to take him down.” 

“Then I shall thank this beast when I see him,” Y/N snapped. “For he seems to be the reason that Eris returned alive.” 

That was her only warning to Lucien to stop his antics. 

“Leave us,” Eris ordered his youngest brother. 

He didn’t need to be told again. 

“I will check on the injured,” Lucien announced to no one in particular. 

He closed the door louder than necessary, making both of them roll their eyes. 

The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire in the witchery. 

“How do you know how to treat faebane?” Eris’ tone instantly switched to the softness that was only reserved for his mate. 

“I shall tell you when you tell me why you ran into battle without waking me," she countered grimly. 

Eris was smart enough to look guilty, even though she couldn’t see his face as she worked on his back. “I did not wish to worry you.” 

“And being woken up by your surge of power was not more worrisome?” 

“I did not realize you would sense my magic in such a way,” he admitted. 

Y/N paused her healing and walked around to look down at him. “You could have been killed, Eris. And I never would have even said goodbye.” 

Without hesitating, Eris reached up and gently grasped the back of her neck, pulling her down until her lips crashed to his. 

She was sure the movement did not feel good for his back. But one would never know from the way his body only tried to pull her in further.

The subject was lost for a few moments, while their lips moved together.

Eventually, they pulled apart. 

“You are right,” Eris told her, voice raspy. 

“I am right?” She questioned, suddenly forgetting what they had even been talking about before he kissed her. 

“I should have woken you before I left,” he clarified. 

Then he smirked. “But I knew you would have tried to come.” 

“Of course I would have!” She admitted with a playful glare. 

His eyes darkened in warning. “You cannot rush into battle alongside me every time there is danger I must face, Y/N.”

“And why not?”

“Because I need you safe. Do you forget why you are here? And because these are not your battles to fight."

Y/N looked into his eyes before she answered, “They would be if I accepted the bond.”

She yelped when she was suddenly sitting across Eris' lap. He had pulled her so swiftly that there was no stopping it. 

“Do not tease me with such things, witch.” 

His body felt so hot, it was as if there was fire itself beneath his skin.  

Y/N swallowed. “I need to finish healing your back, High Lord.” 

Eris watched her before allowing her to get up. 

A tension filled silence settled in the room. 

“Will you let me see your beast form?” She finally asked him, her tone innocent. 

Eris smirked, only because he knew she couldn’t see it. “Why, so you can make me your pet, like Ronan?”

“I think it would be rather hard to cuddle a grizzly fox that was immersed in flames…” She thought aloud. “Cuddles would be much easier when you are in this form.”

Y/N had finished with her spells and healing salve, and was now wrapping Eris in gauze to keep it in place and protect the mending. 

“Where is this torment coming from?” Eris asked as he slowly stood. 

Y/N stepped to him, her eyes seemingly innocent. 

Then she suddenly kissed him again, but pulled away only after she bit the corner of his lip, making him hiss – not from the pain, though it did sting – from arousal. 

“For not waking me,” she answered, as if it were obvious. 

She stormed out of the witchery and threw open the door to his bedchambers that were next down the hall. 

“Also, I put a sleep tonic on my lips. So you will want to get in bed in the next few minutes, or you will be passing out on the cold, hard floor. And if you ruin my hard work from that, I shall punish you even worse.” 

Eris looked at her, utterly stunned. 

“You poison your High Lord?" His eyes narrowed playfully. “Finally, your true self is revealed: you are an evil, little witch after all.” 

She ignored his teasing. “To bed, now.” 

Eris sauntered past her into his personal bedchambers. 

She waited until he sat on the bed, then she slammed the door behind her. 

Instantly, she started chanting a protection spell. 

Yes, she had just knocked Eris out, which left him even more vulnerable than he already was with his injuries and exertion of power from using his beast form. 

Therefore, she would not leave him unprotected. 

She knew his guards would be lingering further down the hall. Lucien would have ordered to give the two of them space until further orders. 

All of them straightened to attention when they saw her round the corner.

“The High Lord is to stay in his rooms and rest,” she explained firmly. “If he comes out, do not engage. One of you is to inform me immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lady Y/N.” They all said in unison. There was no mockery or questioning; their tones held only respect and understanding. 

—🍁—🍁—🍁—

Eris awoke feeling much better than he probably should – and he knew he had Y/N to thank for that. 

It was dusk now. And he’d left for battle before the sun had risen that morning. So he must’ve been asleep for quite some time. 

Y/N’s poison had knocked him out so quickly that he hadn’t even bathed since battle. Though she had cleaned his wounds, he probably smelled of sweat and blood. 

Eris quickly went to his bathroom and bathed, finally ridding himself of the battle filth. 

Then he threw on a simple tunic and trousers, and rushed out of his chambers. 

His sentries were waiting for him and bowed immediately. 

“The injured?” He asked, getting straight to the point. 

Captain Respen stepped forward. “Tended to, High Lord.” Then paused before he added, “More were lost, their injuries to dire. The healers did all they could.” 

Eris frowned, but gave a slow nod. 

“Where is my mate?” 

All the sentries behind their captain shared a look, silently communicating. 

“She insisted that you are to stay in your bedchambers and rest,” Respen explained.

Eris ignored that. “Where is she?” 

——

Eris entered the grounds where all the healer tents had appeared. He expected to hear moans of pain or tears of grief. But there was a subtle peace amongst the camp. 

The sun had just passed the horizon, leaving the forest and sky with a unique mixture of faded blues and oranges. 

“This way, High Lord,” Captain Respen nodded in a direction past the tents. 

Servants had erupted countless fire pits to both warm the camp and make visibility easier for everyone, despite faelights glowing inside each healer tent. 

Eris’ walk slowed when he heard the giggling and laughter. 

It was not a common sound in Autumn Court.

Once they walked past the last of the tents, Eris halted. 

Y/N, ran around with the mortal children they had been sheltering. It appeared they were playing a game of tag. But every time one of them got away from her grasp, a gust of wind would tickle them, causing a fit of giggles. 

“She has been running around all day, aiding the healers in any way she can. She has saved many lives today.” Captain Respen told him quietly. “When someone finally managed to get her to take a break, she came to entertain the children whose mothers were still helping the wounded.” 

Eris didn’t respond, just watched his mate, who looked utterly exhausted, yet smile and played with the children despite it. 

“Will she stay?” Respen dared to ask his High Lord the question that all of Autumn Court had come to wonder. 

Eris ignored him, but the clenching of his jaw was visible. 

He stepped towards his mate, purposely making noise to bring attention to his arrival. 

The children’s laughter stopped immediately at the sight of the High Lord. Some of them even eyed him with fear. 

“It is alright,” Y/N assured them.

Then she beckoned Eris closer, to her. 

He did as requested, following that invisible string attached to his heart.

“Is it true you turned into a beast?” One of the brave children asked hurriedly. 

Y/N bit back her smile. 

“Can you show us?” Another cried out before Eris could even answer. 

“I do not think your mothers would appreciate that,” Eris told them. 

“I don’t have one. So can you at least show me?” Another begged. 

“Now, now,” Y/N playfully scolded them. "The High Lord is far too powerful to show off his gifts like some court jester.” 

“Awww!!!” They all whined in unison. 

But Eris kneeled before them, pausing dramatically to get their attention back. 

The children leaned in, believing they changed his mind. 

With a subtle and small flick of Eris’ wrist, his palm twisted to the sky, and fireworks erupted above them. 

The children cheered and jumped underneath the fireworks as they continued to erupt in every color they could ever want, some even turning into little animals before exploding. 

They tried to catch the falling light in their hands. But it would always disappear before they could, creating a new game for the children. 

Y/N moved to her mate’s side to join him in watching the new joy.

“Neat trick," she told him.  

Eris gave her a shy smile. “I used to do the same for Lucien when he was a child. Sometimes it was the only thing that could stop his crying fits after father… reprimanded him.” 

But they both knew it was more than reprimanding.

Eris sighed. “It has been so many centuries, I almost forgot about it entirely...until now. 

“How are you feeling?” Y/N asked him. 

“I am fine,” he answered too quickly. 

She sighed, but didn’t push. 

“My guards say you have not rested since tending to me,” he pointed out. 

She shrugged dismissively. “There were many injured. And the healers were overwhelmed. I helped as much as I possibly could.”

“And I am grateful for it.” He countered. “But for someone who does not wish to join this Court, you certainly care about its inhabitants.” 

“Shhh,” she warned. “None of that. I am quite tired.” 

The next second, Eris had scooped Y/N up in his arms. 

“Eris!” She admonished. “Your injuries!”

“My injuries are healing – thanks to you.”

Eris passed his guards, who had been watching over them from a distance. “Once the fireworks finish, make sure the children return to their mothers and caretakers.”

“Of course, High Lord. The children will be looked after.” Captain Respen bowed. 

When they were at the doors of the Forest House, Eris locked eyes with one of the footman who stood at the ready. 

“Bring dinner to her bedchambers,” he ordered. 

The footman nodded and rushed off. 

Eris looked down to see that Y/N had closed her eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck. 

“Are we too tired for a bath?” He asked quietly. 

Without opening her eyes, Y/N mumbled. “Never too tired for a bath.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “Good. It is my turn to take care of you.” 

“Will you promise that I will wake up next to you tomorrow morning?” 

“I promise, Y/N.” 

-----------

Thank you thank you thank you for your patience. I'm sure no one will read this...but work was really terrible around the holidays. I was trying to find a new job, but the job market is so terrible. So my mental health just took a real hit. I've also really gotten back into reading, so that because my thing unwind after work, instead of writing. I had also been doing a lot of different personal art projects – painting, editing, and photographing. And those started feeling better than writing for me.

Anyways...thank you for those who stuck with me and were patient and supportive.

[crossfandomslut]

Shut the fuck up right now

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad

For @elucienweekofficial Day 7: Tension/Healing

I wanted to illustrate a bit of what I think their banter will look like. I think Lucien’s rakish charm will drive Elain mad (in the best way).

Enjoy the little comic of Elain trying to stay mad at Lucien but getting a bit distracted by his lips🫦

[crossfandomslut]

Good morning to everyone who loves Eris Vanserra and who will love Eris Vanserra in the future.

[crossfandomslut]

So fucking good I can't

Help Me, Help You - Part Seven

Fenrys x F!Reader

Summary- With help from a certain prince, Fenrys and Y/n go into Antica to search for Vaughan.

Warnings- Arguments, a bit angsty

Series Masterlist

Part Seven

Y/n felt warm when she woke, it didn’t feel like the unbearable heat of Antica’s days, but the warmth of the fireplace in her little cabin back home.

It took only a moment to remember what had happened the night before, to know where she was, to realize who’s arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his chest, her cheek resting just above his heart.

Everything played in her mind, over and over, the conversation with Hasar and Renia, the disappointing search for her brother, the nightmare caused by both.

She’d ran straight to him, her terrified mind somehow deeming the male as safe, she’d told him, of the dream, of the memories, of her fears. And she’d begged him to stay, to lay beside her, he did, and now she was nestled on his chest.

She froze completely, even as it felt like her skin had lit on fire. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could do nothing but lay there, barely even able to breathe.

“Please don’t claw my face off, kitten.”

His voice jump started her heart, the low gravely tone telling her he’d just woken up as well.

She lifted her head to look up at the male, finding his gaze already on hers. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep, and his lips were curled into a lazy smile that had her heart racing. She wondered if he could feel it where her chest was pressed up against his skin, wondered if his own was beating just as fast.

“Who knew you were such a cuddler,” Fenrys laughed.

The teasing somehow brought her back to her own mind, she needed to get off of him, to go back to her own damn room.

She glared halfheartedly at the male a soft hiss leaving her lips as she tried to pull away. Only for Fenrys to hold her to him, one arm still wrapped around her waist, the other lifting to rest against her cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

The question was so soft, his touch so gentle, that Y/n froze again. His onyx eyes pinned her down, searching her gaze for the answer to his question. He wouldn’t find it, she hardly even knew, especially not now, not with him staring at her, not as she laid practically on top of him.

“I’m fine,” she said finally.

He gave her a look, “Kitten-“

“Mostly fine,” she interrupted him, giving him a hesitant smile, “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her lips, nor the way his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth.

Fire, everywhere their bodies met, pure fire. Terrifying, the way she burned with it, the way he seemed completely oblivious to it.

“I should go,” she said, hastily pushing against his chest to free herself from his grip.

He let go without protest, as if he finally realized what he was doing to her. The blankets fell off of her, exposing her skin to the soft breeze floating through the room.

She cursed the stupid little nightgown, cursed Altan for laying it out for her, cursed the onyx gaze that fell down her body, cursed her own gaze for dipping down to Fenrys’s exposed chest.

“Y/n,” Fenrys breathed.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said carefully, no heat, no anger, nothing.

It took everything for her not to run away, to force herself to walk towards the door and slip into the hallway beyond. It was then that she collapsed against the door, head thrown back, eyes firmly shut, taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart.

“Fun night?”

Her eyes snapped open, finding the future empress of the Southern Continent grinning wildly at her.

She pointed at the woman, “Not one more word.”

Nesryn laughed, pointedly looking at the tiny little nightdress Y/n wore, at the door behind her.

Y/n only hissed like the feral animal she was.

Fenrys could admit that it was pathetic that he hadn’t stopped thinking of her since the moment he’d woken with Y/n laying there, nestled on top of him, peacefully sleeping, like a house cat curled up on his lap, he’d laughed to himself when he’d made the observation.

He could also admit that he’d been a creep, just silently watching her, that’s how he’d known the exact moment she’d woken up, the moment she’d realized where she was, who she was with, when the panic had set in.

He’d expected her to react badly, to go back to hating him after the momentary lapse in judgment from her nightmare had passed, to hiss those four words again.

Do. Not. Touch. Me.

He’d readied himself for it, for the physical pain in his chest when she said it, when she struck him down with her tongue, but she didn’t.

She’d been nervous, he realized quickly, her skin flushing with it, she’d even smiled at him, a soft, shy smile, that had nearly taken his breath away.

And then she’d stood up, gods she stood up and he hadn’t been able to stop his eyes from dropping to that gods forsaken dress, hadn’t been able to stop the plea of her name on his tongue.

She’d left, and Fenrys had only been able to lay there, staring at the door like a fool, hoping she’d walk right back in. She didn’t.

So he’d forced himself to get up, to dress, to walk down to the large dining hall where breakfast was already served. Y/n was already there, a small portion of fruits and pastries on her plate.

The seat beside her wasn’t empty, he noted with some disdain. Instead occupied by Prince Kashin, who was angled towards the female, as if she was far more interesting than his breakfast.

Y/n was speaking to the prince, her eyes observing the man casually, even from this far away, Fenrys could see the shine of curiosity in them.

“You’re clenching your fist like you’re going to punch my poor brother with it.”

Fenrys didn’t bother looking at the crown prince, which only caused Sartaq to laugh loudly, drawing the attention of several people, including the prince he had been staring at, and the female beside him.

Kashin gave Fenrys a simple nod, nothing in his expression saying he either noted, or cared for Fenrys’s death stare. Y/n on the other hand, gave him a look of confusion, obviously noticing his current disdain for the prince, but having no idea the reasons why.

“I thought you said nothing was going on between you two,” Sartaq said much softer, the words only for Fenrys.

He dragged his gaze from Kashin, “It is nothing.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing, friend,” Sartaq replied smugly, “Come, sit with us.”

Fenrys found Nesryn sitting on the other side of the room, a matching grin to her husband’s on her face.

“I shouldn’t leave her alone-“

Sartaq cut him off, “She’s seems fine enough.”

His gaze found the female again, found her smiling at the prince beside her, that same smile he’d been struck by this morning. It felt like her elbow driven into his gut, the air escaping his lungs through the wound.

Kashin seemed to have a similar reaction to Fenrys, only staring at her smiling lips, entranced. Y/n noted the stare, her smile faltering under his gaze, she ducked away, shyly hiding behind her hair.

“Come on.” Sartaq clapped him on the shoulder, “I have some news about your little bird friend.”

Even with the prince dangling Vaughan in front of his face, Fenrys found it difficult to turn away from her, to leave her under the appreciative stare of a prince.

Kashin said something then, leaning forward so that the words were only for Y/n, whatever it was had her lifting her eyes to the man, her smile so bright it hurt.

“What news?” Fenrys ripped his attention away, turning to walk beside the crown prince.

Sartaq was grinning from ear to ear but he wisely kept his thoughts on the scene behind them to himself.

“A healer from the Torre said she may have seen him,” Sartaq said, “He was getting supplies for a trip supposedly. She gave me a list of things he’d requested, seemed like a simple first aid kit.”

Not surprising, the male had always been the most prepared out of them all. Fenrys had needed the male’s help on more than one occasion, Vaughan had silently stitched him up and left without a word each time. Perhaps in another life, Vaughan would have been a healer instead of a warrior.

“When was this?” Fenrys sat down across from Nesryn, “He could still be around.”

“Two days ago,” Sartaq answered, “He may still be supplying for whatever trip he’s planning on.”

Fenrys hoped so, “I’ll go to the Torre today and ask some questions, see if Vaughan is still hanging around.”

“Will you bring Y/n with you?” Nesryn had her brow raised at him, “She seemed skittish about the Torre. I didn’t want to pry and ask.”

Fenrys didn’t either, he’d seen the way her eyes had flitted over the building several times that first day, but he’d been to preoccupied with his own excitement at seeing his friends to really question it.

“I can check myself,” Fenrys decided, “I don’t want to get her hopes up for nothing.”

He looked back at her then, saw her sitting there, still with that small, shy smile. Kashin talking to her, his eyes roaming over her.

The gown her servant had picked out for her today was gorgeous, pale lavender silk that loosely hugged every curve of her body, he couldn’t fault the prince for his wandering gaze.

Like she felt his eyes on her, she looked at him, and Fenrys found his heart stopping dead in his chest when her smile widened, when she spoke to Kashin before standing, turning her back to the prince and walking straight to Fenrys. Revealing a slit in the fabric of her skirt that rose nearly to her hip.

“Close your mouth,” Sartaq chuckles beside him, “You’ll get drool all over my table.”

Fenrys didn’t have the time to snap at the man before Y/n was before them, sliding into the free seat beside Nesryn.

“I hope my brother didn’t chase you away,” Sartaq said, “His time spent with his soldiers has been wearing on his manners.”

“No, no, the opposite really,” she said, “He’s actually quite the gentleman.”

Fenrys wanted to laugh, the way the prince had been watching her was less than gentlemanly, especially when she’d walked away from him.

Though, Fenrys knew he was no better, worse perhaps. He hated to admit it, but his mind had drifted back to that first day, to the image of her standing before him with only a towel to cover her.

“Kashin actually had some good news,” she continued, “One of his soldiers recognized Vaughan down in the markets near the Torre.”

Fenrys briefly wondered why the prince was even looking for the male.

Nesryn turned to look at Y/n, “Oh? When did he see him?”

“Yesterday evening,” Y/n replied, “Kashin offered to come look with me after breakfast.”

“Of course he did,” Fenrys couldn’t help but grumble.

Y/n raised a brow at him, her expression unguarded, like the thought of her brother being so close had smashed through the walls she kept around herself, or maybe the prince had knocked those down.

He saw the confusion, the concern in her eyes, right next to the hope. It shined brightly, the hope that her brother was close, that she could finally talk to him, to make things right between them after so many years apart. Fenrys wanted nothing more than be the one to help her achieve that.

“Well, if you’re done eating.” Fenrys stood abruptly from his chair, “I’ll grab Kashin and we can go.”

He didn’t give her the chance to respond, didn’t stop to look at his friend’s smug faces as he stalked towards Prince Kashin, who was already standing, grinning at Fenrys like he knew exactly what was going on in the male’s head, even though Fenrys hardly knew himself.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly.

Kashin’s grin only widened, and it took a lot of Fenrys’s self control to not snarl at the man.

Y/n could barely keep her pace steady as they walked towards the Torre. The proud tower looming over the nearby markets where her brother may well be.

“Batu spotted him closer to the Torre,” Kashin said beside her, “Clearly stocking for a trip, a long one. Dried meats, cheese, warmer clothes, if I had to bet, he may be heading straight for the Tavan mountains themselves.”

Fenrys stood on her other side, “Are there any inns nearby that he could be staying in?”

Kashin looked at the male over her head, she felt insignificant between the two massive bodies.

“I have a few of my men searching the area,” he said, “Sartaq mentioned Vaughan stopped by the Torre?”

“More supplies,” Fenrys nods, “I was going to go ask the healer he’d seen some questions, see if he mentioned anything of use. You could meet up with Batu and Y/n and I can try the healers.”

Y/n let her eyes drift to the white stone tower, she’d felt its presence lingering over her the entire time they’d been there.

“I’ll go with Kashin,” she said quickly.

Fenrys stared at her for a moment, “Okay, I’ll- I’ll meet you here in a few hours.”

She tried not to wince at the disappointment in his tone, tried not to stare at him as he quickly turned from her and started towards the Torre’s main entrance.

“Batu should be nearby,” Kashin said behind her.

Y/n turned, seeing the prince with his arm offered to her. She stood there for a moment, felt the weight of eyes on her back, she knew she would turn and find onyx watching her every move. And when she took Kashin’s arm in her own, that weight lifted, and did not return.

Either her brother was in a hurry to reach his destination, or he was deliberately hiding from her. They spent hours in the scorching heat, searching through the markets, the inns, the surrounding neighborhoods, her, Kashin, Batu and even more of the prince’s soldiers, nothing.

It was like Vaughan was a ghost, drifting through the world and disappearing the second they got to close.

As the day went on, it seemed more and more likely that Vaughan was already well on his way out of the city, it would be a miracle to catch him now.

Y/n wanted nothing more than to keep looking, but even the prince looked exhausted. So they’d parted with Kashin’s soldiers, Batu promising to keep his eyes and ears open for her brother, and they went to meet up with Fenrys.

“You’ll find him,” Kashin told her, patting the hand that hooked around his forearm.

She gave him a halfhearted smile, “Thank you, I really appreciate your help today.”

The prince grinned back at her, “Of course, we’ll keep looking. He’ll show up wether he wants to or not.”

She chuckled, “Not many have been able to make my brother do something he did not want to do.”

“Well,” he nudged her gently, “I’ll just have to be one of those few.”

Y/n felt his presence before she saw him, she felt his gaze like onyx stone dropped on her shoulders.

Fenrys was leaning against the wall they’d designated as their meeting spot. His eyes were narrowed, completely black in the shadows as he watched them approach.

Something about that stare made her uneasy, something was wrong with him.

“Fenrys?” She dropped Kashin’s arm to move towards the male, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he snapped, pushing off that wall to step past her.

Y/n reeled for a moment, turning to find him already stalking towards the palace. Kashin was watching the male with his brow raised curiously, a small grin on his lips.

“Hey!” She quickly caught up to Fenrys, “What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?”

Fenrys didn’t spare her a glance, “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” she caught his arm, forcing him to stop, “Don’t start this.”

Fenrys glared down at her, “Start what?”

“This,” she gestured to his scowling lips, his clenched fists, “The brooding male crap.”

Fenrys only stared at her, and for a moment she saw his gaze softening, his hands relaxing. But then his gaze flickered past her, and his glare turned near leathal.

“I’ll see you back at the palace.”

“Fen-“

But he was already walking away from her, leaving her. Y/n was half tempted to find the nearest object and hurl it at the back of his golden head.

“Hey,” Kashin’s voice was soft, “Are you alright.”

Y/n whirled towards him, finding the prince watching her with genuine concern, his hand outstretched like he wasn’t sure if she’d want his comfort.

“I’m fine,” she lied, “I- we should go back.”

“Is that what you want?” He glanced behind her, no doubt at the retreating form of Fenrys, “We can stay away a little while longer if you need it.”

Stay away, hide away, give Fenrys the space he so clearly desired. Would he even talk to her if she knocked on his door, would he leave her, alone, again and again, like she’d been her entire life.

“Where would we go?”

Kashin’s face lit up, “Have you ever been riding before?”

She hadn’t come back, not for lunch, not for dinner, and neither did Kashin.

He’d tried, and failed for most of the day to rid his mind of the image of her holding onto the prince’s arm, smiling up at him. Fenrys wondered if Kashin felt the same way he had, when she’d laid on his chest only that morning, smiling shyly up at him.

And then his traitorous mind had brought even worse things, images of her laughing with the prince, sighing his name, laying on his bed, moaning.

By the time dinner had been cleaned up, Fenrys was fuming over nothing. Even Sartaq had put aside his teasing and gave Fenrys a pitying smile before leaving for bed.

“Suffering in your own misery won’t help anything you know,” Nesryn said as she followed her husband, “And shoving her away won’t protect your heart.”

He didn’t have it in him to respond, he barely lifted his hand to wave at her. Nesryn only shook her head as she left him there, with only the glass in his hand as company.

She still wasn’t back by the time he got sick of wallowing in his liquor, when he went back to his room, when he’d collapsed into bed, when his eyes had involuntarily closed.

Fenrys wasn’t sure if minutes, or hours had passed when he woke, all he knew was that it was still dark outside, and Y/n was finally back.

Her laughter had woken him, from the hallway beyond his door. Muffled by the wood, he still recognized it, even if she’d so little shared it with him. Yet she easily laughed with Kashin.

Fenrys felt that truth like a knife to his heart, felt himself bleeding out on his sheets as he strained his ears to listen. He heard their mumbled voices, heard heavy retreating footsteps, heard the soft click of her door.

He was moving before his brain could catch up, already in the hall, already pounding his fist on her door before it did, before it took reins of his body and forced him to stop, too late.

She hadn’t made it far, the door swung open in seconds, revealing a wide eyed Y/n, her hair a tangled mess around her head, her beautiful silk dress rumpled and dirty.

Fenrys saw it all, each thought more insane than the last, all coated in the red rage. The way the prince touched her, pleasured her. His fae instincts wanted him to find the prince, to gods damned kill him.

“Fenrys?”

She was looking at him with pure confusion, eyes wide and questioning. She searched him, like she’d be able to see into his mind, see the bloody red images that assaulted him from every angle.

He stepped past the threshold of her door, without invitation, forcing her to take a step back, to let go of the door which he slammed shut behind him.

He saw the words in her eyes, do not touch me. Had she said the opposite to Kashin, begged him to do exactly that? Was Fenrys so revolting to her?

“What is wrong with you?” Her tone turned furious, “What-“

“Where have you been?” He cut her off, taking another step towards her, his voice lethally soft.

She didn’t step back this time, only glaring up at him, “None of your gods damned business. Not if you’re going to act like this.”

Another step, and they were standing toe to toe, she had to tilt her head back to keep her glare on him, her wild mess of hair cascading down her back. Fenrys found himself wanting to wrap the strands around his fist.

“Where have you been? He asked again. “Where did he take you? What did he do to-”

She hissed, cutting him off, “Fuck off.”

He wanted to snarl, to snap his teeth at her, to yell at her, to beg her to tell him, to grab her and shake the answers out of her, to kiss her.

He staggered backwards with the thought, like it had physically struck him.

“Fenrys?” Confusion, anger, concern, “What the fuck is happening with you?”

Jealous, he was gods damned jealous. That realization hit him even harder.

He’d gone half crazy with it over the past few days, the first night with the imaginary servants, now with Kashin, and he’d been so damned oblivious to it.

“I- Fuck,” he groaned, “I should go.”

He turned, fully intent on leaving, on hiding away in his room for the next day, maybe even the day after that. Y/n didn’t let him, her hand wrapped around his arm, nails almost digging into his skin.

“No,” she hissed, “You don’t get to just barge in here, snarling at me like a damned dog and then run away with your tail between your legs.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, tugging his arm from her fierce grip.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” She laughed, it lacked any humor, “You fucking left me with Kashin, and then you have the nerve to force your way in here, demanding to know where I’ve been, what I’ve done?”

What she’s done, it all hit him again, the jealousy, the anger. He couldn’t stop it all from washing over him, it was pathetic really. He was pathetic.

“If you really must know,” she snarls, “He took me riding. I’ve never ridden a horse before, so Kashin was teaching me because no one else has ever bothered.”

She’d been riding, her hair tangled by the wind, her dress dirty from the stables, her laughter from having fun, not from bedding the damned prince.

“Now,” Y/n continues, “You are going to tell me what the fuck your problem is today.”

What was he supposed to say, that he’d been going insane since the moment she’d gone with the prince instead of him, that he wished she’d taken his arm instead of Kashin’s, that he’d imagined the worst of her and the prince together.

Fenrys shook his head, “I can’t.”

Y/n was seething, not a wall in sight to hide that anger from him. She looked half close to clawing his eyes out, he’d let her if she did.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

“No,” he replied.

She took a step closer to him, poking him harshly in the chest, “Tell me.”

“No,” he snapped.

Another poke, “Tell me.”

They were toe to toe again, both of them glaring into each other’s eyes, both of them refusing to back down.

He growled, “No.”

She hissed, shoving his chest with her whole hand, “Tell. Me.”

Her strength surprised him, he took a single step back, “No.”

Another shove, another hiss, “Tell me.”

Fenrys kept his balance this time, catching her wrist, “Stop it.”

“Just tell me,” she snaps, her free hand slapping his chest.

He groaned, “Kitten, stop.”

She struck again, and again, repeating the words, “Tell me, you fucking coward.”

He caught her fist, tightly restraining her arms even as she thrashed in his grip. She reared back, like she was about to knee him in the groin.

“Damnit,” Fenrys snarled, he wrenched her towards him, pinning her to his chest so she had no room to move.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“Stop trying to hurt me,” he snapped back.

She glared at him, those keen eyes burning into his skull, “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Fenrys felt his resolve crack, felt it shatter to pieces, “You’re my problem! You and that gods damned prince.”

“Me and Kashin?” She gave him an incredulous look, “What the fuck are you-“

“I’m fucking jealous!”

His outburst was too loud to his ears, leaving them ringing, leaving him breathless. Y/n seemed to be in a similar state, blinking at him like she hadn’t quite processed what he’d actually said.

“I’m jealous,” Fenrys said again, “I turned into a pissy little shit because I am gods damned jealous.”

“I- I don’t,” she stuttered, “Jealous?”

Fenrys saw the look in her eyes, saw the words she said last time he’d seen it.

Do not touch me.

He let her go like she’d burned him, put some distance between them so he could breathe without scorching his lungs.

“Why?” She asked, staring at him with wide eyes, scared, “I don’t understand.”

Fenrys laughs mirthlessly, “I don’t either, kitten. I didn’t even know that I was until now, until I realized that I wanted to-“

He stopped abruptly.

“You wanted to what?” Y/n asks, keen eyes searching his own.

Fenrys shook his head. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t say that he wanted to gods damned kiss her when she had made it clear she didn’t even want his touch. She’d rather fall into the arms of a stranger, into Kashin’s, than his.

“Don’t,” she said, stepping closer, “Don’t shut me out.”

“Y/n, I can’t,” he pleads, “I can’t ruin this more than I already have. I can’t have you hate me more than you already do.”

“Fen- I don’t hate you,” she said, “I don’t, why would you think that?”

The way she was looking at him, confused, angry, hurt, heartbroken, he hated it, wanted it gone. Wanted to fix this, to pick up the pieces of their broken and shattered friendship and put it back together again. Wanted to go back to this morning when she’d lain on his chest, when she’d been to shy to look into his eyes, when she’d smiled at him. Wanted to kiss her then and there, before this day had gone by, before he’d ruined everything.

“Please,” she begged, and there was the smallest crack in her voice, “Please don’t shut me out.”

It broke him entirely, everything he was and is, the scars and wounds that never truly healed, ripped open, and there was nothing he could do about it, no way to staunch the bleeding.

It felt like when he’d broken the blood oath, that deep, ancient pain, unavoidable, nearly incurable, only this time, there was no one here to give him another oath, to demand him to live.

Fenrys was a dead man anyway, maybe that is why he took that step towards her, why he reached for her, why he took her face between his hands and tilted her face up, why he gently kissed her.

Just one small kiss, the light press of his lips against hers, the final wish of a dead man. He lingered for only a moment, caressing her face in his hands, savoring the softness of her lips again his, before he pulled away, his hands dropping to his sides.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” he choked, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME

He expected her to yell it at him, to claw at his face, to throw him out and never speak to him-

“Again.”

He stared down at her, not sure if the word had been hers or his own, “What?”

The was a raw emotion simmering in her eyes, a different kind of pain, doubt, fear, longing. Fenrys felt the echo of it in his own soul, the hurt, the terror, the desperation.

“Again,” she breathed, “Kiss me again.”

Fenrys surged forward the same moment she did, they collide, lips and bodies moving as one. Her hands on his chest, his face, his hair, everywhere she touches feels impossibly warm, like fire, like she was branding the shape of her into his skin.

His hands cling to her waist, snaking up to wrap her hair in his fist and tug, exactly how he’d imagined during their fight. She gasps and he’s able to taste her fully, to devour the noises that slipped past her lips, to claim her fully.

Y/n clings to him desperately, the hand in his hair moving to his cheek, right over the scar below his eye. Warm, so incredibly warm, like the fire of a hearth in the middle of winter, like the sun peaking through the clouds on a rainy day, like magic pouring into him.

Fenrys pulled away, just enough to look at her, watching the way her heavy lidded eyes flutter, so caught up in the moment that it took her several seconds to come back to earth. And when she did, her eyes searched him, landing on him, on the hand on his face.

“Gods,” she gasps, pulling away so forcefully she fell backwards.

“Shit!” Fenrys caught her around her waist, keeping her up right, “What the fuck, kitten?”

She kept staring at him, at where her hand had been, her eyes blown wide like she’d seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” He searched her face for an answer, “Y/n what’s wrong?”

She reached towards him, like she’d touch him again, but she hesitated, staring at his scar.

His scar, Fenrys realized, she was staring at his scar. The monstrous wound that Maeve had left him, the permanent scar he’d kept as a reminder, as torture for himself, as punishment for what happened to his brother, as a way to stop seeing Connall everytime he looked in the mirror.

He moved involuntarily, hand lifting to hide it from her, he’d never been ashamed of it, not until now, not when she’d been left so speechless from it.

Everything stopped when his fingers met his skin, met the smooth warm surface where rough scar tissue should have been.

“What-“

“Fen I’m sorry,” she finally choked, “I didn’t mean to.”

He moved, towards the wardrobe identical to his own. Wrenching the door open to find the mirror he knew would be sitting there.

She stood behind him, he noticed first, tears streaming heavily down her cheeks, crying, choking out the words.

“I’m sorry, so fucking sorry.”

And then he saw himself, where he’d expected to see his face, onyx eyes, one peering out from the vicous scar, he saw his brother.

He saw smooth golden brown skin, glowing and unmarked, healed, he was healed. She, she had, she was-

Fenrys found himself gasping the words, “You’re a healer.”

Tag list -

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[crossfandomslut]

Crying tears of joy for once

All other lifetimes

All lifetimes

46 years old

It was finally your favorite day of the year: Starfall. You had just woken up and prepared for the extremely long wait until the evening arrived.

You simply couldn’t wait.

You jumped out of bed and had just gotten dressed in a black dress with a dark blue jacket when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you sang.

You turned around as the door opened and immediately froze.

“Azriel,” you whisper yelled. “You know you can’t be here! If the high lord finds out you-“

“He won’t find out,” Azriel assured you. “I asked your mother for help.”

Your parents were the only two people that knew about your mating bond. How your mother found out, you never knew, but you had told your father in a hope that he would let you out of the marriage he arranged for you.

A smile big grew on your face as you realized just how supportive your mother was.

“We have to go now though, we only have a few hours.” Azriel continued.

“Where are we going?” You asked, but you didn’t actually need to know. You trusted him completely.

“It’s a surprise,” he answered with a smile as big as yours.

You flew together up to the mountains. Sometimes intertwined, sometimes beside each other, but most important as close to one another as possible. Not because you were scared, but because you two always felt better, calmer, being close.

As you landed, you saw a picnic he had arranged. With a blanket to sit on, your favorite flowers and some of your mother’s food.

“Wow,” you said in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted us to at least have a day to pretend,” Azriel said quietly.

“Let’s make it the best day ever,” you whispered, holding back tears. “No arranged marriage to separate us.”

He took your hand and guided you towards the picnic. You sat down and started to eat. You ate mostly in silence. It was a while since you had been together and you always loved spending time just being in each other’s presence.

The mating bond hummed stronger and stronger the longer you sat together.

“What would our life be like?” You asked Azriel.

You sat in between his legs, resting your back on his chest and your head on his shoulder. He sat with his hands behind him, holding you up. His shadows were playing with your hair.

“I’d like for us to stay in Velaris,” he answered after spending some time thinking. “Maybe not in the middle of the city, but close to everyone.”

“I’ve always wanted to live in a small cottage,” you told him. “It would be just big enough for me and you. And a few little ones if we wanted to.”

Azriel’s shadows left your hair and you turned your head to look at him. You were filled with his many emotions of both surprise and happiness, but also worry and sorrow.

“You’d want to have kids with me?” he asked looking into your eyes.

You sat up and turned so that you could see him better.

“Of course!” you exclaimed. You reached and took his hands in yours. “I’d love to have your kids. To watch them grow and look like a mix of both of us. To teach them how to fly and take our first flight together as a family. We would have to have at least two, of course. No Y/N can grow up without a Rhysie.”

You held back tears once more as you finished. Azriel’s thumbs brush over your hands.

“What else have you thought about?”

You sat up straighter as you spoke.

“I want us to have a big garden with many flowers and also a lot of grass for us to relax in. Enough space at the table for our entire family, Rhysie, Cass and Mor included of course.”

“A place that smells like us, where we do not have to hide,” Azriel added. “Not that we needed to push our smell onto everyone else.”

“I want you for myself, but our cottage would definitely be a place where the two of us could be free. Just the two of us.”

“It sounds amazing and exactly how I’d want it to be,” Azriel told you.

The two of you laid down on the picnic blanket and looked up to the sky.

“I don’t want to marry the heir of Spring.” You were no longer able to hold back tears. No longer able to ignore the truth of your life. You would never have your perfect life with Azriel. “I want you.”

Azriel turned to his side and his shadows tried to comfort you by playing with your hair.

Azriel took your hand as he said: “I want you too, Princess.”

His eyes stared deeply into yours and he tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your face with his hand.

“My beautiful mate. I am the luckiest male in all of Prythian even if I can’t have you in this lifetime.”

As the tears started to leave his eyes, you started to cry even harder. You hated that you had to hurt him by being with someone else. However, you also knew that you didn’t have a choice. Not in this life.

You let go of his hand and held up your pinky finger.

“All other lifetimes?”

Even though it was a question, you meant it as a statement. You would be his in every other life.

Azriel didn’t hesitate as he intertwined his pinky finger with yours.

“All other lifetimes,” he answered determinedly.

Two identical tattoos wrapped around your fingers.

You spent some time just watching him. Taking in every feature of his face. The small scar on his forehead, the shape of his eyes and ears, the color of his lips, the way his lips trembled when a tear escaped his eye, how his lips moved as he breathed out.

Before you even realized you had leaned in, his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, but suddenly everything seemed right in the world. You felt like you could to anything, be anything, because Azriel were kissing you.

You had thought of this since the day you realized what kissing was. You had dreamed about it since the mating bond snapped.

Finally, the day had come.

You needed more. The mating bond was humming like never before, but it was only calming, not the stressful and anxious screaming the bond usually caused you when you were apart.

You deepened the kiss. Your lips met and soon your tongues did too. The salty taste of your tears mixed with the hope from your kisses.

“I want you,” you told him in his mind so that you didn’t have to stop kissing him.

Azriel’s lips left yours.

“Are you sure?” His voice trembled.

You didn’t even need to think. If anyone should be your first, it should be your mate. You decided it a long time ago, and realizing Azriel was your mate only made you want it more.

You would never feel safer than what you did with him.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” I answered and kissed him once more.

*********************************

56 years old

And then you finally heard the door open and in walked your beautiful, sweet, majestic, mysterious and wonderful mate, your Azriel, ready for you to accept the bond.

He hesitated at the door.

“You are sure you want to do this? If you’re not 100% we can just have a normal two weeks off,” he said looking concerned at you.

Just stood up walked towards him. As soon as you stood before him, you raised onto your toes and kissed him deeply.

“I’m 100% sure, Az,” you told him. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since the day the bond snapped, love.”

You had to hold back your squeal and you ran towards the apple pie that stood on the cabin’s kitchen table.

You cut a slice and put it on the plate you had prepared earlier.

You then pulled out a chair and urged Azriel to sit down.

Your eyes met as you sat the pie slice in front of him.

“You make me the luckiest male in Prythian,” Azriel told you, still meeting your eyes. “I will make sure you always know that. I love you more and more for every day we spend together in this life.”

You almost glowed with happiness. The day was finally here.

“I love you too, Azriel.” You held up your pinky. “All lifetimes?”

His smile grew ten times bigger as he intertwined his pinky with yours.

“All lifetimes!”

You pushed the place closer to him.

“Now,” you said. “Please eat. I want to ravish you.”

Azriel laughed as he picked up the fork and took a big bite out of the slice.

*********************************

170 years old

You were dying.

You felt your legs give out, but the shackles held you up.

You had no way of getting any rest. If you passed out, they would just wake you again and continue the torture.

“Answer the question, Shadowsinger, and we will stop torturing her,” one of your captors told your mate.

What was supposed to be an easy mission turned out to be a trap. An ambush where 30 soldiers were against you and Azriel. You didn’t stand a chance, even though you took out about half of them.

“You have one last chance,” the captor continued.

You weren’t even sure Azriel was conscious. Your eyes were blurry from tears, sweat and blood.

The captors had tortured one of you to get the answers out of the other. They would keep going until you were on the brink of death and then give you a small break before they started again.

You screamed as you felt the tip of the knife go into your leg. It burned, the knife was definitely laced with poison.

“You’re doing great, princess.” You heard your mate’s shaky voice. He must be in bad shape, since let the captor hear his voice that desperate. “Please just hold on a little longer.”

You weren’t sure you could. It had been three days. You weren’t sure if you had a uncut place on your body.

“I’ll carve an K here I think.” You felt the knife on your upper thigh.

“Don’t you dear,” Azriel threatened, but both of you knew he couldn’t do anything.

“If you just tell me where I can find your High Lord’s most used estate, I’ll stop.”

He gave Azriel some time to answer before he carved a K deep into your left thigh.

You tried to get away, but it only made him cut you deeper.

“Stop it, please. It burns,” you cried out hating yourself for showing weakness.

Your captor only laughed. “If your mate only loved you enough, he would have stopped it.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you heard Azriel say. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Y/N.”

Your ears started ringing and was soon louder than the words from your mate.

“Please hold on, Y/N.” Was the last thing you heard before you passed out again.

You laid in Azriel’s arms as you woke. His bloody left wing was covering you, the other one had a pole going through it. He was barely awake.

“Thank the caldron,” he whispered and kissed your head.

You then heard footsteps.

“So she’s still alive,” your torturer said as he walked into your cell. “Can’t have that can we?”

“Don’t you touch her,” Azriel replied, his voice weaker than ever. His wings tightened around you, but it didn’t help.

You were ripped out of his embrace and before you knew what happened, you felt the knife entering your stomach.

“We don’t need you two anymore.”

You heard Azriel’s restrains unlocking and then you were back in his arms.

“Stay with me, love. Look at me. I’m here. I’ll get you home.”

The captor only laughed. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, giving false hope now too?”

He grabbed the two of you and winnowed.

You landed harshly on the forest floor beside Azriel. A pained scream left your lips.

“Have a good death.” The captor left you.

You turned your head to see your surroundings. You were in a clearing not far from Velaris. If your family was looking for you, they definitely could find you, but you didn’t dear to hope for it.

You were dying.

You turned your head to look at your mate.

He laid on his stomach, the pole still sticking out of his wing. Luckily for you, you had been laid on your back, so that the knife didn’t stick further into your stomach.

Azriel weakly scooted closer to you. He spread his wing out and covered you.

“Stay awake, love. Please don’t leave me.” His voice was weak and you knew he was as tired as you were.

With the last of your energy you moved your hand towards his. Your pinky finger found his. Neither of you needed to say anything. You both knew what you meant.

You’d meet again in the next lifetime.

Azriel’s eyes closed and you felt the bond between you two going further and further away.

As your eyes grew heavier and your body gave out, you felt talons in your head as you heard: “stay where you are, we’re coming.”

You opened your eyes and blinked to get used to the light. You looked around and realized you were in your old room in the House of Wind.

Azriel

You immediately stood up from your bed.

Where was he?

You felt nauseous as you started to walk towards the door.

No no no no no no. Why can’t you feel him?

You walked out to the corridor outside your room. You were going to his old room. He had to be there.

You felt drunk as you made your way down a flight of stairs.

You hadn’t gotten far when you felt a hand around your wrist and another around your waist.

“Y/N,” your brother said.

“Rhysie?”

“Come here, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“Where is he?”

Azriel was all you could think about.

“I’ll go get him. Let’s get you back into bed, you’re hurt.”

The mating bond was screaming inside your chest.

“Where is he?” You asked desperately.

“Please, Y/N, you-“

“WHERE IS HE?” You screamed at your brother.

Rhys let out a sigh.

“His in the kitchen. He’s alright.”

You ripped your wrist out of his hand and rushed towards the kitchen.

As you went down another flight of stairs you felt them. His shadows. They were swirling all over your entire body, checking for injuries. As they noticed the wound on your stomach they gathered round your waist to keep you stable.

You had just stepped on foot onto the floor the kitchen was on as the kitchen doors flew open.

His hazel eyes met yours. You broke down with a sob.

He ran towards you and immediately wrapped his arms and wings around you.

“It’s okay. I’m here. We’re home. We’re safe,” he whispered into your ear and his hand rested on the back of your head. “You’re okay. You’re alive. We’re both alive.”

You finally felt the mating bond that connected you together and the overwhelming feeling of relief hit you.

“Let’s get you into bed again, love,” he said. “I won’t leave you. I’m yours in all lifetimes.”

*********************************

532 years

“I’m going in,” Azriel said.

“No,” both you and Rhys snapped at him.

You stood in the middle of the battle against Hybern.

He spread his wings and you almost whimpered at the sight of the bruises.

“Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” your mate said in he’s beautiful soft voice. “Go ahead. I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

You heard the determination behind his voice and knew that it was nothing you could do.

You heard the horn and felt the terror together with your family as the rest of Hybern’s army sailed towards you. You swore. There would be no way all of you made it out alive.

In the midst of it all, Azriel moved to stand besides you.

His pinky finger wrapped around yours as he said your most important saying: “All lifetimes.”

He whispered so that nobody else could hear it.

“All lifetimes,” you answered.

“Azriel,” Rhys said quietly, but his eyes met yours. “You lead the remaining Illyrians on the northern flank.”

You saw the guilt and fear in your brother’s eyes as he gave the commands, but you knew that he did the right thing.

Azriel turned to you, held his left hand on your back and gathered your hands in his right one. He pulled you into what must have been the most passionate kiss of your lives.

He let go and before you could say anything, he shot into the sky with unhealed wings to help your chance to win this war.

You have never been prouder and more scared at the same time as you walked back into battle.

You stumped towards your brother. You were fuming with anger.

He turned towards you and you raised your hand and slapped his cheek.

“You’re an idiot, Rhysand,” you told him with tears running down your eyes. “You knew you would die, knew you would leave us, and still did it? It’s your worst idea ever. You can’t always be the one sacrificing yourself!”

Rhys let you finish speaking before he stepped forward and embraced you.

“I’m sorry, little one,” he said. “Thank you for surviving.”

“Thank you for coming back to life.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I have to go help Miryam, but you can yell at me later okay?”

You started to seek for your mate. You knew he was alright, but you hadn’t had time to talk, just a quick kiss in between helping all the hurt survivors getting to the healers.

You hadn’t walked far before you felt his shadows wrapping around your waist and soon also Azriel’s arms were holding you.

He nuzzled his head into your neck and hair. Talking some time just smelling you.

“You alright, love?” You asked him.

He held you even tighter. You felt all kinds of emotions down the bond. Relief, happiness, love was some of them, but you also felt exhaustion, pain and anger.

“I’m not ready to finish this lifetime with you,” he said.

You felt your heart shatter as you realized what he meant. He thought you would die and he wasn’t ready.

“Neither am I,” you replied. “Let’s have a few more centuries, shall we?”

You felt his smile growing.

“We absolutely should.”

You turned your head and kissed him softly.

******************************

536 years old

You sat down on the couch next to your mate. You were holding your daughter, Cassandra, and he held your son, Rhyland. Both 6 months old.

Both of the twins were screaming their lungs out and had been doing that the last our.

“We should switch,” you suggested. “We all know she’s a daddy’s girl.”

You put down your daughter as you picked up your son. Azriel picked up Cassie.

They immediately shut up.

Both of you had to hold back a laugh. You loved learning about their big personalities.

“You know,” Azriel said. “I can’t imagine a lifetime better than this one. I think this will be our best one.”

You felt warm with love. Holding your son, watching your mate hold your daughter.

You were the happiest you had ever been.

“As long as you are in my lifetime, it’ll be the best one.”

[crossfandomslut]

I'm not usually big on AUs but this one slapped

half algorithm, half deity - (Mafia AU) Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Rhysand’s Sibling)

Summary: You try to date other people, but in truth you’ve only ever wanted Eris Vanserra.

Tags/Warnings:

Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI), SMUT with plot, Angst, Modern Mafia AU, Established FWB, Mentions of past Tamlin x Reader (brief), Mentions canon typical violence, Mentions of minor character death (Rhysand’s mom and other sister)

Alcohol, Oral (M & F receiving), Rough but make it tender & loving too, Hair pulling, P in V, Overstim if you squint (please lmkif i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.5k

Links: Masterlist | My Art

Despite your father’s best efforts, you didn’t inherit your family’s propensity for violence. 

You drink your wine and remind yourself of that fact for the umpteenth time tonight. But if this male gives you another backhanded compliment or, Mother forbid, another unsolicited criticism, you might reconsider that fact. Rhys had made sure you knew how to gut a man in just three moves and you remember each precise stroke as effortlessly as a breath.

To dissuade yourself from such thoughts, you take another generous gulp of wine - your only saving grace as you listen to him drone on and on about his most recent business acquisition. For the past forty-five minutes, the man has managed to recount his entire genealogy, his academic history and recited what felt like an itemized list of all his professional accomplishments. This is supposed to be a date, you’re tempted to remind him, not a chance to whip out his dick and measure it. 

He has yet to ask you anything about yourself, of course, entirely preoccupied with stroking his damn ego. You’ve stopped trying after the fifth cycle of appropriately timed ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, seeing he doesn’t seem to need you to continue his tirade. Your pointed glares and longing glances at your wristwatch remain unnoticed too. The number of drinks you’ve had seems to be an entirely different story, however. 

"You know, you should really slow down," he remarks, his sardonic smirk exposing a set of eerily straight white teeth.

“And why is that, exactly?” You ask before taking another long sip of wine with deliberate slowness. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, his smile little more than a collection of clenched teeth. 

“You wouldn’t want to be too drunk for later.” He makes a show of raking his beady eyes over your form. The predatory glint in his eye makes your skin crawl and your hackles raise in equal measure. 

“Bold of you to assume there would be a later,” you drawl, your eyes narrowing into slits, nostrils flaring in silent outrage. 

“Oh, there will,” he declares with an impressive amount of unearned confidence. “How else are you going to pay me back for this meal, sweetheart?” He says it as though it’s a given, like your body is something he’s owed for this paltry display. Fuck, if you don’t leave now, you’re sure you’ll end this night behind bars, probably charged with manslaughter. Rhys would get you out of it, of course, but he’d be incredibly smug about it and you couldn’t have that. 

The man makes another show of tracing his slimy gaze over your body, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I must say, I wasn’t a big fan of the dress - too revealing to be classy, in my opinion - but I suppose it wouldn’t matter when it’s on the floor of my penthouse.”

You admit that you don’t try very hard to hold back a gag. Without even dignifying him with a response, you hail the waiter and gesture for the bill in the hopes that the expression on your face is enough to convey the urgency you feel. To her credit, it only takes her a minute to rush to the table in all black and white salvation, the bill in hand. 

With haste, you pull out the cash from your wallet and slam it down the table. It should be enough to cover everything, even the tip. You give the man one last scathing glare before you rise from the table. A fish out of water - that’s what he looks like, wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing, probably on the cusp of claiming to everyone in the room that you’re crazy, that you’re overreacting.

Before he can do any of that you pivot sharply towards the exit, ignoring the man’s indignant sputtering. Your feet protest beneath you, your new stilettos digging painfully into your skin with every step. Only when you’re five blocks away from the restaurant do you let yourself slow to a stop. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, undoubtedly ruining the makeup you spent such a long time putting on earlier that night. 

Suddenly, the dress you felt so confident in now feels suffocating. The fabric clings to your skin fat too tightly, constricting your every movement. The silken garment you had thought to fit you like a glove now surrounded you like a cage. You tug at the neckline, trying to find some relief, but the discomfort only intensifies.

Frustration bubbles in your gut as you collapse onto the nearest bench to catch your breath. You feel so stupid. Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been looking forward to a nice night out after an entire week of slogging through work. Instead, you ended up sacrificing what little free time you have to satisfy some asshole’s vanity. 

The city continues in indifferent chaos around you. The fluorescent streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars slice through the night. People bustle past, absorbed in their own lives, oblivious to your existence. At this moment, you’ve never felt more alone. 

Seeing Feyre and Rhys fall in love has been an eye-opening experience. You’ve watched them gradually find happiness in each other, watched them build a life together. There’s also Nes and Cass, Viv and Kal - all so utterly content, so in painfully love. It is a relief to know that love is possible despite the kind of lives you live. After what happened - your gun slotted in between those bright forest eyes, finger frozen at the trigger; the stumbling string of sorries, of depthless regrets; white marble tiles stained crimson by blood - happiness hadn’t seemed like a possibility. All you’ve had since then are inconsequential flings and ill-conceived dalliances, nothing that could lead to anything more.

It’s difficult to admit that you want something more.

But since you’ve started seeing other people, it’s only been a series of disappointments one after the other. What made basic empathy and human decency such a scarce resource these days? In all honesty, you’re starting to lose hope, starting to think that maybe that love just isn’t in the cards for you. 

You cared for Tamlin in your own foolish, fumbling way. He was solid ground, he was stubborn certainty. He clung to control so tightly that his nails left angry red indents on his palm. In many ways, you were his antithesis, his unmaking. He tried to be good but the both of you hadn’t been good for each other. Perhaps the two of you had been too lonely, too stubborn, too fucking young to realize not all forms of love were healthy.

Eris Vanserra is an entirely different matter. He came to you as a flicker of flame in the darkest night. He was a breath of fresh air - a lungful of ember and possibility - setting you alight from the inside out. More importantly, Eris understands you the same way one side of a coin knows the other. That, however, didn’t mean you could be together. 

Perhaps in some ways, knowing made the longing worse.

Your hand clenches around air, around the vestige of a memory you can’t seem to let go of. Your fingers itch to dial the same set of numbers you’ve deleted from your phone time and time again. You remember it anyway, though. Your mind has faithfully cataloged every memory of him - silky red hair brushing against your cheek, amber eyes crinkling in mischievous delight, arms wrapping around your body, making you feel safe for the first time in your life. 

Your body moves before your better judgment can catch up. Before you know it, the familiar set of numbers is staring accusingly at you from your phone screen. Droning rings of an outgoing call pierce the silence. On the third one, Eris picks up. 

“Firefly.” That word. You can hear the amusement in his tone. You refuse to acknowledge the hint of relief you sense there too, the note of near manic joy. It’s been months since you’ve last seen each other, since you told him that you needed something more - more than stolen moments, more than simply falling in and out of each other's beds only to be nothing but mere strangers come morning. 

You say nothing, trapping unsaid words behind teeth clenched so tightly it’s a wonder you don’t break your jaw. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Eris laughs, smooth, sensual, and utterly addicting. The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You fight the sudden urge to feel his lips shape the words with your own, to feel the vibrations of his laughter with the tips of your fingers. 

“Tell me where you are,” he tries again. You can hear him lean back on his office chair, undoubtedly working late yet again. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded perfectly calm. 

“I don’t know,” you sniff, fighting back the traitorous tears. “I’m near the Moonstone Palace.” It’s the overpriced restaurant you had been in earlier, the reason you’re going to have to struggle with rent this month. You could always ask Rhys, but you’ve long since divorced yourself from your family’s wealth.

Eris exhales, and you hear a suspicious amount of rummaging in the background. “Could you send your location to me?” He suggests, and you can make out the faint sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Okay.” It comes out as a resigned sigh. 

Before he hangs up, he makes sure, “Are you safe?”

“I am.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Eris arrives in ten.

You’re slumped on the bench, clutching your purse to your chest as the frigid night air rushes past you. In your haste, you completely forgot to retrieve your coat before rushing out of the restaurant. But then, the low growl of an engine captures your attention. You turn to find a sleek black Benz gliding into view before coming to a halt right in front of you. 

The window rolls down to reveal Eris’s smug face, familiar and foreign all at once. His bright fiery locks, longer now, have been tamed into a braid behind his back. Loose strands frame his sharp features, highlighting the severity of his beauty. He looks paler than usual, freckles now barely visible across his cheeks. 

Eris grins, voice laced with far too much delight. “Didn’t I tell you, Love? You wouldn’t be able to stay away.” 

Your nostrils flare involuntarily, equal parts irritation and wry amusement warring in you. When he notices the redness of your eyes, however, his smile banks. The only reason you can tell he’s worried is because you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time learning his tells, mapping the meaning behind the slivers of genuine emotion that sometimes slip through his carefully constructed mask. You’ve got it down to a science, interpreting him the same way astronomers find reason in the depths of the cosmos.

Without another sly remark, he steps out of the car and slips out of his coat as he strides toward you. When he moves to wrap the garment around your body, you try to protest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re freezing,” he insists before dropping the surprisingly heavy coat over your shoulders. The effect is immediate. Eris is a walking furnace most days and traces of his heat still linger on the cloth, thawing the ice that has gathered beneath your skin.

You groan in relief despite yourself, finally acquiescing and pulling his coat tighter around you. Eris smirks, and you shoot him a perfunctory glare in response. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t comment on the way you bury your face in the upturned lapels, inhaling a lungful of his cinnamon and woodsmoke scent.

“Fun night?” He asks once you’ve plopped down the passenger seat. 

“Obviously,” you reply, words thick with sarcasm. “I had the time of my life, really. Nothing like a date with another entitled, self-involved trust fund asswipe to liven up my Saturday night.” Eris looks entirely too pleased with this information. 

He shrugs. “Your dates can’t compare?” He shoots you a knowing look. You resent the implication, but can’t entirely deny it either. 

The truth of the matter is that you’ve never truly gotten over Eris. As brief as your explosive affairs may have been, the male has found a way to burrow beneath skin, to etch himself onto the surface of your mind. There is no washing him off you. In these last few months, all you’ve done is find fragments of him in faceless men. 

“Can’t compare to your arrogance, maybe,” you retort a beat too late.

 

“Oh Firefly, you know you love it,” the smug bastard shoots back smoothly. 

“You think you know me so well,” you grumble, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well enough.” Eris’s smile widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well enough to know those men you’ve found aren’t worth your time.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he is at least vaguely aware of your failed attempts at dating. Embarrassment coils in your gut, betrayed only by the steadily rising flush of your cheeks. “Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a hint of mischief lingering in his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?” He leans toward you, face hovering over yours. The intensity of his gaze feels dangerous, almost like a threat, a promise that he could easily tear down all your walls if he pleased. Memories flash - of him devouring your mouth with his own, of bare bodies intertwined on soiled sheets, of him greedily drinking in each moan from your mouth as you clench tightly around his length - playing on torturous repeat in your mind. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Your breaths come short, voice trembling. Eris’s smile widens, canines glinting beneath the warm light - a well-honed predator to and through. 

Eris chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

You sincerely can’t tell whether you want to clock him in the jaw or pull him down for a kiss. But then, in a rare show of mercy, Eris withdraws. He simply pulls your seatbelt down and fastens it beside you before turning back to the wheel. You release a breath you don’t realize you are holding. 

The engine roars beneath you and Eris begins to maneuver the car back onto the highway. You slump further down in your seat, only to have several objects dig into your ribs. You jolt up, patting down his coat for the offending items. In your search, you produce a stiletto hidden in the inner lining and a Glock 19 in one pocket. 

“Really?” You quirk your brow at him as you drop another knife on the car floor.

Amber eyes dart towards you for the briefest second, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the road. You don’t doubt Eris has more hidden on his person, maybe even in this car. 

“Can’t be too careful,” he replies with a shrug, his hand flexing on the wheel. You follow the movement with rapt attention, transfixed by the rhythmic contractions of the muscles beneath, by the faint blue of the veins that run in webs up his forearm. 

Eris, the bastard, catches your preoccupation with his body. Of course, he does. 

His smirk widens into a full grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoying the view?"

You snap your gaze back to his face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," you remind him, stalling, trying to regain your composure. “Perhaps you should put up a show for me, and I’ll decide then.” 

Eris chuckles at the challenge, a deep, resonant sound that never fails to send shivers down your spine. 

The rest of the drive to your apartment is spent in comfortable silence, Eris content to leave you in your corner, brooding and bundled up in his coat. You lean your head on the window, letting your thoughts drift by at the same pace the scenery slips away from view. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until you feel Eris tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“We’re here.” 

Your eyes flutter open, reality reluctantly coalescing into focus in front of you. There's an amused expression on the redhead's face as he watches you wake. A part of you is tempted to curl back into a ball, content to pretend at peace just a little longer. Eris has no such qualms, however. He undoes your seatbelt and tugs you out of the vehicle. His arms remain loosely wrapped around your waist, though, even as he closes the door to the passenger seat.

“I should go.” He is so close his hot breath brushes against your cheek, the scent of mint permeating the air between you. 

“You should.” 

But none of you move to part. Your hands remain tightly fisted on his otherwise pristine shirt, while his arms create a cage around you, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car. 

“Why did you call?” Eris asks instead. His cheek rests on your temple, his nose buried in your hair like he can’t quite help but gravitate towards you. Your grip on him tightens the same way the sun pulls celestial bodies into its orbit, completely, inevitably.  

“You know why.” 

“Tell me anyway.” He pulls back just enough to look straight into your eyes, molten amber burning into you. 

“I want you.” You confess. I’ve only ever wanted you, your mind further supplies. His gaze is searching, as if scouring for all the ways he can turn over your words in his head if the new angles would reveal some hidden meaning.

“I want to forget.” You continue, tugging him down by the collar. He follows willingly and rests his forehead on yours. Lips hover over your own, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. His mask turns translucent. Joy, pain, and regret flash in quick succession across his face before you can even parse their meaning.

“As do I, Love.” 

The moment you step into your apartment, all traces of tenderness dissipate. 

Eris has you trapped between the wall and the firm line of his lithe body. He easily towers over you. With one thigh wrapped around his slim waist, only his firm grip on your hips and his thigh slotted between your parted legs keep you upright. Your remaining leg stands precariously on the tips of your toes, teetering dangerously in whichever current Eris pulls you in.

His mouth is latched onto your neck, leaving blooms of red in his wake. You should tell him to stop, tell him not to leave any visible marks. But all words and reason are lost to you when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin in time with a particularly well-timed roll of his hips. 

“Eris!” You keen, clawing at his back in a vain attempt to find purchase. But there is no safe harbor to be found, not here. Eris is a force of nature. He is the living embodiment of wildfire, burning brightly, holding you so firmly, that it’s as though he intends to fuse your bodies together.

“What is it, Firefly?” He whispers the words against your ear, right before he catches your lobe in between his teeth. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. “What does my pretty girl want?”

“You.” It comes out as a demand, a desperate plea. 

“Use your words, love.” His movements settle into a languid pace, excruciatingly slow, pulling a whine from your throat. His single hand encompasses your entire jaw. Pads of his fingers press against the joint, his grip firm but gentle. Eris turns your face so you’re looking straight into his burning eyes. “Let’s try again, shall we? Tell me, how do you want me?” 

“I need your cock in my mouth,” you whisper your want against his lips, confessions you’d never be able to make in the light of day. Amber eyes roll back at the image your words evoke. Eris forces his eyelids shut as you continue to speak. “Then, I want to feel you inside me, fuck me into the mattress, until your name is the only word in my mind, until I can feel you for days after.” 

“Firefly.” With his face in the crook of your neck, he groans like you’re torturing him. You allow him a few short moments to gather himself - heavy heated breaths blown onto your nape - before tugging him by the hair insistently. His braid comes loose and a river of red falls in delicate curls over his freckled shoulders. Eris is an entirely different person when his head snaps up to meet your gaze.

“On your knees.” 

Electricity crackles through the air between you at the sheer command in his voice. Obediently, you sink to his feet, gazing up at him with wide hungry eyes. To his credit, Eris’s expression remains impassive, his ardor betrayed only by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes. With his thumb, he presses down on your bottom lip. 

“Suck.” 

Your mouth parts to welcome him, until you feel the cool press of his signet against your lips, a welcome contrast. You swirl your tongue around the digit, bobbing your head for a few beats. Eris clenches his jaw, the pad of his thumb lightly digging onto your tongue as he pulls it out. You release it with a pop of your lips.

“Good.” 

Eris tilts his head, a silent permission to continue. While you gradually slip off his belt and undo the zip of his trousers, Eris gathers your hair in his fist. With a single push, his impressive length is revealed to you, long and heavy. Anticipation sparks in your chest, eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Go on then.” 

So you do. You flatten your tongue against the base of his cock, licking a stripe to the tip. There, you take the head into the wet heat of your mouth and suck. Eris makes an involuntary thrust, despite the tight leash he normally keeps around himself.

“Fuckin’ Hel,” he groans, grip now deliciously digging into your scalp. You moan your appreciation against him, and the male shudders in response. For a few moments, you simply alternate between lazily bobbing your head and swirling your tongue against him as best you can. Your hand twists in tandem to accommodate the remaining length of him. 

“You’re a damned tease,” he accuses. “A demon.”

With wide eyes, you blink innocently up at him from beneath your lashes. Eris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but allows the torturous cycle to continue. When you sense his movements grow more erratic, his muscles tensing beneath your palms, you slow your movements just in time to deny him his release. At the third time of doing this, Eris looks close to breaking.

“Enough.” He growls, the command reverberating through the silent room, through every fiber of your being. 

You still immediately, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through you. He adjusts his grip on your hair, winding the strands around his knuckles and tugging lightly as if to test his grip. You groan at the bite of pain, your arousal dripping from you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty face now, Firefly.” He whispers with such disorienting tenderness. “Tap my thigh twice if it becomes too much, understand?” 

“Yes.” Your too-eager reply draws a lopsided smile from Eris’s otherwise stoic demeanor. “Please,” you add as an afterthought as you brace your hands against his thighs.

Eris tilts his head once more, and you take that as your signal to proceed. Your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing out, tongue curved around his length. His thrusts begin tentatively, but it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his firm grip on your hair directing each movement. You will yourself to relax, angling yourself to take him better, deeper. For a while, all your thoughts evaporate, your entire focus simply on breathing through your nose and watching the look of ecstasy unfold across his face. 

“You feel amazing around me.” Eris pants as he pushes impossibly deeper. You struggle to take him, throat spasming around him. “My good girl,” he coos, his thrusts stuttering. You groan against him when one stroke allows him to bottom out completely. Nose nuzzling the thin line of red on his lower stomach, tears bloom in your eyes. You look up, only to find him already gazing at you. His amber eyes were wide with want, transfixed at the sight of you taking him completely. 

“I’m about to come, Love. You’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” A drawn out mhm is all the permission he needs. “Every. Last. Drop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust. 

Then, on his final advance, Eris holds you there by the head until the very last moment, until the fire in your veins has spread into each lobe of your lungs. When you swallow around him, he chokes, rolling his hips into your mouth. Your fingers curl into claws against his thighs but you don’t tap out. He moves once, twice, then he’s gone. Eris allows you a bit of reprieve by retreating into your mouth as his length pulses the rest of his release onto your tongue. 

“Fuck.” He rasps. Then, with a single tug, he pulls you off of him and onto your two wobbly legs. Eris only gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before his mouth crashes against yours for a kiss. He groans as he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“So perfect for me, made to take me.” His hands roam your body as though eager to discover every square inch of exposed skin. This is Eris in his rawest form, you realize, all control turned into liquid flame in his hands. He practically tears your dress from your body, pushing down the silk until it pools on the floor. 

“Yesss,” you hiss, clawing at his shirt and shoving it off his broad shoulders. “Only you.” Heavy thunks follow soon after - the gun holstered at his side, the knife strapped to his thigh.

“I fucking love you.” He growls in between breaths. Without giving you a chance to reply, he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the raw flesh. 

You don’t even realize he’s corralled you into your room before he pushes you onto the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the ankle. Eris stands tall before you, rendered in sharp angles and steady lines, softened only by the warmth in his amber eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels between your parted thighs like a supplicant before their God and your body is the only conduit of worship he knows. 

“You okay?” He asks this while his head is pillowed on your thigh, as though he hadn’t just blown your mind. Eris, you’ve discovered, is a collection of contrasts - rough one second, and painfully tender the next. No amount of studying him could let you predict the direction of his passion. You don’t mind, though, you’d happily be carried away in his current.

“Perfectly.” 

“You remember your word?” He removes your stilettos, brushing over the raw skin where the straps have dug in.

“I do.” 

“Say it for me.” He lines your heels neatly at the foot of your bed. 

“Ember.”

“Good.” Eris begins his meandering path up your legs. A kiss on your ankle, lips ghosting over your leg. Once his lips reach your thighs, he starts to nibble and suck on your skin. The simple declaration of possession shouldn’t please you as much as it does, but it only deepens the pool of desire and anticipation in your gut. 

“Eris,” you whine, breathless, as he pauses at the seam of your thigh. His smirk only grows at your increasingly desperate pleas and the erratic movements of your hips.

“Use your words, Firefly.” Eris reminds you beatifically. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” you begin, already struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Please?” 

“My mouth?” He asks, pretending to consider it. “But I thought you said you wanted my cock?”

His taunting jolts you out of your reverie, always rearing to meet his fire with your own. You come up to your elbows to level him a raised brow. “Well, you’re already on your knees, aren’t you?” Despite knowing you’ll pay for your words later, you try to inject as much bravado into your voice as you can. The effect is dulled by your obvious desperation though.

Eris chuckles, shaking his head as if in disapproval. “What to try that again, Firefly?” He blows a hot breath towards your core, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “I’m sure you can do better than that.” 

You clench your teeth, a vain attempt to keep the pleas trapped within your mouth. Eris remains steadfast, of course, staring you down with obvious amusement. His lips travel a languid path, teeth teasing, mouth nipping, veering closer and closer but never close enough. This is a battle you’ve already lost from the start. 

“Please?” You grit out. “Can I please have your mouth?” 

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” Eris laps at the marks he’s left, just a few millimeters from where you want him to be. Practically vibrating with need, you dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation. The bite Eris plants on the soft flesh of your thigh is what pushes you off the precipice.

“Please,” you plead, each syllable dripping with need.  “Can I please have your mouth?”

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” Eris drawls, entirely indulgent. He places your leg over his shoulder and dives in. First, he runs the flat of his tongue over your flimsy thong, lapping at your slit. You shudder at the sensation, melting against the sheets as he continues.

“You taste divine.” He growls, the vibrations making you tighten around nothing. Then, closes his mouth over your slit and begins to suck. You throw your head back, heel digging into his back, hips arching towards the pull of his mouth. Your arousal seeps into the cloth. A heartbeat, a fraction of eternity, then Eris licks the lace greedily like a man starved.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mouths against the fabric. You feel the truth of his words as surely as the growing flame in your gut. Then, he slides your undergarments down one thigh, keeping it wrapped around the other, a mockery of a wedding garter. Finally, his lips close around your clit as he slides one long finger in you, then two, scissoring them inside. You release a choked sob. His fingers are much thicker than your own, but the stretch is a burn you’ve been craving for far too long. 

“Fuck, Firefly, you’re so damn tight.” He murmurs against your skin. He begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making it a point to curl his digits in just the right spot. The precision of his movements is enough to drive you out of your mind. Eris shifts between murmuring sweet nothings against your heated skin and drawing precise circles around your clit.

At some point, Eris’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with his own. It doesn’t take long for you to climb that familiar high. Hurtling over the edge so fast, you don’t even realize you’re cumming until you’re overtaken by a wave of pleasure. It saturates your senses until the only thing that makes sense is Eris, Eris, Eris. 

He doesn’t stop. His fingers hit that torturous angle, while his tongue laps at your bud. “One more,” he demands and you whine in protest. “Just one more, Love.” 

“‘S too much-“ you try to say, but your words crack into a sob. “I c-can’t-“

“You can,” he coos. “My good girl, my lovely little Firefly.” The praise does more for you than his hands could. “Always so perfect for me.” 

Desire is a living thing inside you, an inferno building beneath your skin. You crush his fingers in your grip, while the other threads itself through his silken locks, needing something to anchor you unspool for him.

“Eris, I’m-“ your voice cracks, reality blurring around you as you spasm around him, hips gyrating, driven only by pure primal instinct. He groans, as though your pleasure is as good as his own. His fingers speed up, his tongue licking your bud to and fro with dangerous precision.

“Cum for me, Firefly.”

You do. You break into flames with his name on your lips, back bowing, eyes trained to the unseen sky. You barely even register when Eris climbs into bed with you, too preoccupied with reacquainting yourself with your body. Only when he pulls your pliant form over his chest do you meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” There is concern in his gaze, and you wipe the worry from his face as you run your knuckles over his cheek. 

“Perfectly.” An invisible tug calls you to dip your head and taste yourself on his lips. Eris licks the seam of your mouth and waits patiently until your lips part for him. 

Without breaking contact, you wrap your hand around his girth and begin stroking him to full hardness. Your tongues meet, and you relish the trace of your taste in his mouth. Once his cock is ready, you line him up with your entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, slowly, inch by inch, until you’re fully on his lap. For a moment, you simply stay like that, with him seated deep within you, lips locked in a languid ebb and flow. When you begin to move, you do it together, rising and falling in question and answer to the other. You wonder if there will always be this constant compulsion to have Eris near, the need to feel his skin against yours, to feel his beating heart thump in step with your own. Somehow, against all reason, he’s managed to worm his way into your life, to make a home for himself within the chambers of your heart.

Eris becomes the ruined wreckage of a man as you slide off him up until only the tip remains, before slamming back down. Eris keeps his gaze on you as though he’d rather die than miss a single moment of this. He groans, meeting each and every single one of your movements. His one hand grips your hip, guiding and grinding, fingers digging into you. The other cups your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple. When your thighs begin to ache, legs quaking, powered only by desire and desperation, Eris easily flips you over. 

“Harder,” you choke out, “deeper.”

“So demanding,” Eris teases but seems happy enough to comply. He places a pillow beneath your hips. You almost whine at the pause, but Eris doesn’t give you a chance. He begins with an unforgiving pace, pistoning in and out of you with abandon. The new angle is torture specifically designed to tear your remaining sanity into shreds. Your legs lock around his waist, hands clasped tightly with his own. His lips hover over yours, drinking in each whimper, each moan, like it's ambrosia and you’re the sole source. 

“Are you about to cum for me, Love?” Eris breathes. And you nod frantically.

“Tell me, Firefly, who’s making you feel good, hm?” He punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You are,” you rasp, convulsing around him as his cock nudges the perfect spot inside of you.

“My name,” he demands.

“Eris.” It comes out as drawn out moan, a plea, a promise.

“And who do you belong to?” The force of each slam has you seeing sparks, and when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb? You’re gone, utterly defeated and consumed by the flame. 

“You!” You scream, repeating his name over and over and over. 

“That’s right,” he purrs. Your thighs shake, back arching completely off the mattress. The world breaks apart around you, reality melting into a flash of blinding light. He slows down and fucks you through the throes of rapture, extending seconds into eons while you flutter around him. With one last grind of his hips, you feel his cock throb as he spills deep inside you. 

Eris collapses on top of you, surrounding you in his scorching warmth. For a long while, only your shared breaths exist in the silence. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, as though unable to help himself.

Eris doesn’t tell you he loves you again. He shouldn’t, for both of your sakes. But you feel it in the featherlight kisses he leaves over your shoulder, his gentle touch as he traces each curve, line, and ridge of your body. He does it with such ease, as though it’s an art he’s perfected through the years, through lifetimes. 

Instinctively, you begin to run your hands over his back, fingers running over the lattice of faded scars there. Anger is a flaming arrow through your chest. Beron is not an easy father to have. Eris, as the prospective heir to his empire, receives the brunt of his brutal scrutiny. What you’d give to have the opportunity to tear that old bastard’s head from his shoulders.

As if sensing your sudden agitation, Eris’s roaming hands become more insistent, kneading away all the tension from your muscles. “Relax,” he whispers against your ear. 

Although he rolls off of you, he doesn’t go far. Without letting you out of the cage of his arms, he curls beside you like a cat, each plane of your bodies perfectly aligned. With his head resting over your heart, a rumble of contentment escapes him.

It’s startling to think that to anyone outside of this room, Eris is a villain, as well-versed in savagery as his father. But you know him, seen parts of him the world would never know. You and Eris have always been two sides of the same coin. 

He understands what it’s like to endure and inherit a father’s rage, to house a mother’s bottomless grief, to be saturated with so much shame it steals your every breath. The two of you are so different and yet are hewn from the same ore, forged from the same fire. Although there are a multitude of reasons why the both of you can’t be together, it feels as though Eris is the only one who's ever truly seen you as you are. 

But self-denial is a circus act you and Eris perform with practiced ease. You’ve already fucked up before and it wasn’t you who ended up paying the price. No, it had been your mother and your sister. Their blood will stain your hands for the rest of your life. 

You won’t make that same mistake again. 

Two twined heartbeats, breaths released and taken in unison, Eris drifts off as your fingers card through his hair. You drink him in, long lashes fluttering as he flits into sleep, faint freckles like stars scattered over the ridge of his nose, and his face, for once, open and devoid of that familiar mask. You map its planes with the tips of your fingers, cataloging each detail and etching them onto the back of your mind. 

Eris will be gone come morning. He always is. The only proof of his presence would be the ache between your thighs and his scent still lingering on your sheets. But for now, though, he is yours, as fleeting as this moment may be. 

This is enough, you tell yourself. 

AN: hello this is my first smut fic in a while & this is a bit different from my usual thing so i was a bit nervous about posting this one. Let me know what you guys think!

Dialogue and banter aren’t my strong suit but i tried my best ;u;

This started as pwp fic but now there’s plot and I’m invested. I’ve got a few ideas and I kinda want to do a series of one-shots for these two.

English isn’t my first language. If you see any mistakes please let me know thru DM! Thank you 💙

[crossfandomslut]

Love love love

Cauldron-born

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.

“I hadn’t meant to hide this from you Rhysand,” Helion’s usual warm tone was replaced with something sterner, bolder— unwavering.

A breeze pulled on your skirt, the floaty material rippling under the wind. It was always warm in Day, but now, with the appearance of uninvited guests, there was a coldness in the air you hadn’t experienced before.

A bite that pulled at your skin raising goosebumps across your arms.

You guessed this reaction wasn’t a rare occurrence when facing the Night Courts Inner Circle.

Helion shifted his weight, his body stood in front of yours in a protective manner. A nervousness emitted from his energy, an emotion that actually seemed strange to even be associated with him. 

Helion wasn’t the nervous type. Charming and flirtatious, bold and defiant— not nervous.

Helion pushed his shoulders back, his stance flexing against the shadowy group that had just arrived. 

They had shaken him. 

Perhaps you were naive to think these people wouldn’t, naive to believe you could live your life quietly. Slip through the cracks. Go unnoticed. No you were not destined for that, as much as your dear friend may have wanted that for you.

So if a quiet life was not meant to be, then you would at least claim it as yours. 

With a light step you moved from behind Helion to his side, coming into full view of the group who had appeared unannounced in the courtyard. Your hand came to Helion’s gently, giving him a soft squeeze and light smile that stretched to your eyes.

How they had gotten through Day Courts shields didn’t come as a surprise really. Helion had divulged how powerful the High Lord of the Night Court was. That if he really wanted to take them all down, then Helion suspected in that unrelenting pit of power Rhys probably could.

But despite this power, Rhys had never ravaged control over the land. Helion was fond of Rhys and his family, they were allies. Perhaps he would even consider them friendly.

And yet Helion hadn’t told them about you.

Energies and rhythms rippling from their bodies, all with their own melody of colours unique to them floated toward you. Your eyes scanned over their features quickly, reading their expressions, the tight lines their faces made before one look pulled you to a hasty stop.

A hazel lock held you tightly as a males gaze ensnared you. 

Golden rays broke through a midnight blue aura, trapping you in a moment that seemed to expand and retract all at once. He was the most beautiful male you’d ever laid eyes on, and it took every ounce of will power to pull your gaze from his.

There was a simmering at the pit of your stomach, something familiar and warm, and you swore you could hear singing—

“She is like us.” A girl from the back of the crowd spoke, beautiful and sweet. Elain, you assumed. Her aura, one that resembled sunlight radiating in golden flicks. If you hadn’t known who she was you’d had assumed she was a Day court resident from her glow alone.

Elain stepped forward, another girl stepping beside her as if they’d both been pulled by the same magnetic pulse to the front of the group.

This girl. This girl was Nesta. You were sure of it. That silver flickering aura licked at her skin, an energy so similar and yet so different to her sisters.

“Hm..no not exactly like us…” Elain seemed to mutter, more to herself than anyone else. Her eyes scanning you as she tried to get a read, try and decipher what had pulled her here in the first place. 

Why you had pulled them here.

“Something other.” Nesta spoke.

You don’t think she’d actually intended for it to sound so venomous, but the words had snapped like poison. You noticed how for a split second there was a softeness in her energy. Whether she was regretful of her tone or not, you had flinched at the word.

Other.

Hm. Perhaps that was the best way to describe you.

Elain glanced at her sister, her face not changing as she digested Nesta’s words. There was a shuffling behind them, only slight and small. Would barely be noticeable if it wasn’t so hard for you not to notice.

Him.

His scarred fingers twitched at his sides, shadows swirling around them as they peered over those giant black membranes that were drawn in at his back. A tattoo creeped up the side of his neck, peeking through his shirt as you followed up to his jaw. Black leather’s covered his body, blue siphons shimmering under the setting sun. You tried so hard not to let your eyes wander back, but as though you had no control you gaze landed on his again. 

Only to find he was already staring.

Azriel.

Helion had mentioned him to you before and you recalled how you had rolled the name a few times in your mouth. The name feeling so foreign and familiar all at once.

“Not cauldron-made, no not quite.” Elain had turned her attention back to you.

You had stepped forward now, stepped out from the shadow of Helion.

Stepped out to face what you had been avoiding. 

“You are Cauldron-born.” 

✵

“Would you like to join us for some tea?” Your response had been after Elain’s heavy statement.

Your words coming out in a flurry to cut through the heaviness in the air. Despite being outside it felt stifling. Several eyes piercing into you. You could almost hear the way they were trying to decipher you— breakdown what Elain had said. 

You hadn’t allowed them the time. Quickly offering them tea, as you glanced at the small set up you and Helion had come to the courtyard to enjoy.

It was only a matter of moments before more furniture was erected and began the awkward silence while the piping pot of tea began to simmer to a cool.

Your hands were scrunched up in your skirt, fists full of fabric on your lap being an obvious tell of unease to those who knew what to look for. A strained smile was forced to your lips, expression light and brows arched in apprehension as you watched the uninvited guests silently take sips of tea. 

With a quick sideways glance you gave Helion a nervous smile, your lips wobbling as you took a sharp inhale. Helion responded with a gentle pat of your head, his large hand coming to ruffle your hair while a lazy smiled adorned his lips.

His energy finally shifting to one you recognised more, warm and teasing. He was relaxed again. Whatever shock the inner circle had originally caused, Helion now seemed...somewhat nonchalant.

That should have been reassuring, but the tension in your muscles didn't want to relax.

“This is y/n,” Helion finally spoke, addressing the people who had barged into his court. 

At the revelation of a name, the inner circle cast their attention solely on you. 

“These are my friends y/n, I’ve told you about them already. We had anticipated your arrival at some point,” he continued giving a knowing look to Rhys.

Your eyes scanned the expressions of the five people in front of you. 

Rhys, Amren, Nesta, Elain and of course Azriel. Not the whole inner circle, no there were members missing. But Helion had done such a great job at explaining them to you, that it really wasn’t difficult to figure out who was who.

“It’s l-lovely to meet you all,” you managed out, voice falling softer than you had hoped. Your own eyes gently moving across them all before flitting to the shadowy presence that remained stood behind the Night Courts High Lord. 

Azriel.

Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from looking, among all the noise he sung the sweetest. His energy, amongst those swirling smoke coloured tendrils was the most beautiful display you had ever seen. Not the most powerful by any means, Rhysand and Helion’s outshone his aura in many ways but his was the most enticing— at least to you.

Composure wasn’t something Azriel usually lacked, but after hearing the softness of your voice fill the warm evening air he had to collect himself entirely.

From the moment he’d set his eyes on you, he couldn’t ignore the feeling in the depths of his chest. Maybe if you hadn’t been the cause of it, he’d have assumed there was something wrong with his heart. 

Azriel noticed the way your fingers nervously picked at your skirt, fists tight with the material as you sat up straight beside Helion. As if your posture would bring a confidence you were clearly lacking. 

He could sense it, your unease, nervousness. Picked up on it before even his shadows could whisper it to him.

Nervous, nervous, nervous.

He blinked them away. He already knew. 

Pretty. 

Another whispered. He already knew that too.

Pretty was putting it plainly though. You were breathtaking. 

Azriel wanted to reassure you. Comfort the anxiety he could tell you were drowning in. It was such a strange sensation, to feel this connection so deeply with someone he’d never met before, that Azriel couldn’t help but question why.

Azriel allowed himself to consider that perhaps something he’d been dreaming of for so long was finally his. 

That feeling, the ache in his chest you caused— was almost painfully lovely. He swore this was exactly how his brothers had described it to him.

Azriel found himself allowing the smallest curve spread to the edge of his lips, a gentle, secret smile. Just for you.

A smile that softened your own forced expression to something more relaxed and genuine. 

For a moment it felt as though it was just you two. The noise and vibrations of everyone else seemed to fade. An embrace of cobalt and hazel filling you with a warmth that felt so familiar.

“But Elain is correct. Y/n is cauldron-born.” Helion’s voice broke the trance you both seemed to be in.

Your nervousness from before simmering hotter.

“It cannot be,” Amren declared, disbelief tinging her tone as her gaze pierced into you.

“You think I lie?” Helion challenged. 

“How do you know for sure?” Rhys pressed back, an uncertainty in his tone.

“Because I know you all feel it too,” Helion’s voice was deep, a gleam in his eye as he turned to you proudly.

“She is the Mother’s daughter.” 

A statement. Even more bold than Elain’s settled a silence across the courtyard. This time it wasn’t stifling, their energy shifting to something of awe, admiration and then devotion.

In one quick movement a figure dropped to their knees. Head pressing to the cool stone ground.

Amren had bowed before your feet. 

And Amren bowed to no one.

a/n: Okay I know this a whole lot more of elusive-ness and I'm sorry, I just thought sharing this little bit more is better than nothing at all. I wanted to flesh this first out properly so here's the full part one! I've been so swamped with work and inspiration struck this evening so I quickly wrote this in my notes. I promise I will eventually finish it, even if it's just little updates here and there. I'm hoping maybe 2 more parts, so it'll be a nice little mini-series!

I also took it upon myself to try and tag everyone who commented and reblogged because you all seemed very invested so didn't want you to miss this installment even if it is tiny<3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

CB tags: @hannzoaks @je-suis-prest-rachel @awkardnerd @cleverzonkwombatsludge @faerieboismh @glitterypirateduck @paradisebabey @jesskidding3 @searchingforbucky @beardburnsupersoldiers @chubby-unicornz @toxicsociety17-blog g @sapphenaa @starsidesigh @kalistaangelsbane @bookishthoughtss @pit-and-the-pen

[crossfandomslut]

God damn 😭

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died.  

Warnings: angst angst angst

A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! 

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like that…Well, it seemed like it had healed something in him.

Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.

You hadn’t been good enough for him. Hadn’t been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadn’t been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadn’t been soft enough to bring him comfort. 

You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters. 

Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think you’d ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night you’d overheard him in the High Lord’s office.

The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.

Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way once—not like that. You’d been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each other’s lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.

On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake.  

But you didn’t want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deep—with the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didn’t regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl. 

It didn’t help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite. 

It hurt though, it hurt so much. 

You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he was—darkness and all. 

You were supposed to stick together through it all.

But…he hadn’t chosen you. 

You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home. 

Alone once again. 

As you always would be.

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.

Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadn’t brought it up again. 

Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didn’t want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of you—the one he still had no idea existed. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished he’d talk about you. 

You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any light—cold and dusty—the same way you felt inside. 

“Don’t you think…” you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat. 

“Do I think what?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at you. 

You looked away again. 

“I don’t know,” you hesitated before continuing, “Don’t you think that Rhys might actually have a point?” 

You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time you’d addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it once—just once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him. 

“Oh Gods,” Azriel groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just asking,” you said in your defense. “What if…what if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bond—”

“Is godsdamn stupid, is what it is,” Azriel scoffed. “She doesn’t want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” you grimaced, “But what if you find your mate? Would you…would you stay with Elain?” 

“Of course I would,” Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. “I don’t have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isn’t love, then what is?” 

“I don’t know, Az.” You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. “Is that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?” 

This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minute—give you a modicum of hope to hang onto. 

“I am,” Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and you’re acting just like Rhysand.” 

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. “No, Az, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“No, I get it,” Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. “You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadn’t said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into that. You hadn’t meant anything by asking him those questions—only wanted a bit of closure for yourself. 

Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes would’ve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azriel’s eyes was washed away.

But you didn’t stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldn’t. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.

• ───────────────── •

But you're so full of shit, 

Tell me it's a bit, 

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

• ───────────────── •

Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didn’t reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain. 

Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond. 

And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadows—content to observe and love from the corners of the room. 

But now it was just you in that corner, all alone. 

You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone else—not as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind. 

You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azriel’s closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassian’s sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Mor’s dancing partner or Amren’s pupil to bully. 

You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldn’t even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azriel’s feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation. 

It was just a reminder that you weren’t the one giving him those things. 

But you couldn’t disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments. 

You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat. 

You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhys’s office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defenses—bombarding you with Azriel’s emotions once again. 

His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. “Y/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you haven’t been around much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, “I never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it.” 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you might’ve been wrong but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much. 

Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you weren’t going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look. 

“It’s an invitation,” Azriel explained. “Me and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.” 

You stared at the envelope in your hand. 

Stared and stared and stared. 

Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting married…and not to you. To her. 

So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose. 

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

• ───────────────── •

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front with the rest of us?” Feyre asked.

You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine back here. You know I don’t like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.” 

Feyre gave you an understanding nod. “Okay, but you will sit with us at the reception. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reason—because Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night. 

This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you could’ve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dream—that’s all it would ever be. 

Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did. 

Azriel’s eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didn’t look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not you…never you. 

The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldn’t help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief. 

Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didn’t matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again. 

• ───────────────── •

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything. 

You were dying. Slowly.

But you knew this was the end for you.

Even if you could be saved, you didn’t want to be.

You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.

You wanted to leave behind this life finally.

Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyone—no one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.

Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory. 

It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips. 

Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that. 

You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw. 

It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet now…so, so quiet. 

It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed. 

“Mate,” Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. “You’re…You’re my mate.” 

You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. “You knew?” 

You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. “How long? How long have you known?” 

“A while,” you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again. 

Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life. 

“Why?” he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You…were…happy,” you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.

“No, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,” Azriel pleaded with you. “The healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.” 

“I-It’s…okay,” you mumbled. “Want…want to go.” 

You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. “No, you can’t. You can’t go. You’re my mate, Y/n. You can’t do this to me!” 

“I’ll find…you…again,” you slurred out. “Maybe…maybe I’ll be…good enough….then.” 

You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azriel’s beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest. 

And with that, the pain was finally gone. 

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

• ───────────────── •

[crossfandomslut]

Really freaking good I have no words

Across the Universe-ch.11 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

Y/n stirred awake slowly, feeling the warmth of a late afternoon filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she was disoriented, unsure of where she was. Then the events of the previous couple of days flooded back: the battle in the woods, Fenrys being injured, the ugly creature, and their vulnerable moment together in her room.

She shifted slightly and felt the weight of Fenrys' arm draped over her waist. He was still asleep, his breathing steady and deep. The scratches on his body seemed less angry in the soft morning light. Y/n gently turned her head to look at him, taking in the lines of his face, the way his brows softened in sleep, and the slight crease of pain that lingered on his features.

With a sigh, she realized how peaceful and content she felt in this moment, lying close to him. Despite the turmoil around them, there was a sense of serenity that she hadn't felt in a long time. Fenrys had always been strong, fierce, and protective, but seeing him vulnerable like this, trusting her enough to let his guard down, touched something deep within her.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, y/n shifted closer, her head resting against his chest where she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm tightened around her instinctively, pulling her closer in response. She felt safe, cherished even, in this simple gesture.

As they lay there intertwined, the world outside seemed to fade away. Y/n knew they couldn't stay like this forever, that reality would soon come crashing back in. But for now, in the quiet intimacy of the morning, they found solace in each other's presence.

Eventually, Fenrys stirred awake, blinking his eyes open slowly. When he saw her looking at him, a soft smile spread across his face. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but filled with warmth.

"Morning," y/n replied softly, returning his smile. She couldn't help but feel a flutter of happiness in her chest, a sense of gratitude for this moment they shared.

She shifted slightly, stretching out her stiffened limbs. Fenrys remained beside her, his presence a comforting weight against her side. The events of the previous day replayed in her mind like a vivid dream—encountering the Valg-spawned creature, the frantic chase through the woods, and finally, finding solace in each other's embrace.

Fenrys stirred again, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and relief. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice still tinged with the remnants of sleep.

Y/n couldn't help but smile faintly at his question. "Better, now that I'm not alone," she replied honestly. Despite the physical and emotional toll of the recent events, being with Fenrys brought her a sense of calm and reassurance she hadn't realized she needed.

He nodded silently, his gaze lingering on her face as if trying to read her thoughts. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

Her brows furrowed in confusion "What for?"

Fenrys sighed, his expression clouded with a mixture of emotions. "I just wish I could have protected you better," he murmured, his eyes searching hers for understanding.

"You did," y/n insisted earnestly. "You saved me back there, in the woods. If it weren't for you, my throat would have already been ripped out."

He turned his head towards the ceiling and closed his eyes, displaying his thick and tan neck to her, "You don't understand, these creatures....they are just newer forms of the ones that we fought against during the war. The Valgs are clearly creating new ones and this was just a warning to us. You probably never even saw such things in Prythian so now, you are also caught up in all this mess-"

"Fenrys, my world had even worse than whatever you all have here. I am pretty sure these monsters are nothing new to me."

His eyes popped open as he turned to her with a surprised expression "Really?"

Y/n giggled and said, "Yes! I mean, we had the Attor who was this disgusting thing that could fly, Feyre ended up killing it. Then, we had naga and the naga-hound who were slightly similar to what we saw yesterday. We also have Kelpies and Puca. But....worst of all was the Middengard Wyrm. I never saw it in real life but Rhysand did and from what he showed me through his memories, it was horrible. It's like this huge worm, the size of a whole mountain, with sharp and large teeth. Ironically, Feyre also fought against that and guess what? she won!! Everyone except Rhys thought that she would die but, she proved them all wrong."

Fenrys just stared at her with an amused gaze as he said, "Seems like your Feyre is a lucky one if she survived that."

Y/n sighed, her eyes going distant, to her memories with her once high lady "Yes, yes she is. Rhys is lucky to have her as a mate."

She noticed Fenrys tug her hair behind her ear as he whispered "Have you met your mate yet? If not, would you like one?"

At that, her expression turned sour as she pondered over his questions for a minute. She thought that Azriel was her mate. That them being together this long meant that at some point, that bond would snap. That because she loved him endlessly and thought that he felt the same, they were destined to be.

Of course, those thoughts were prior to Azriel ripping her heart out and crushing it in his hands. Now, she despises that word. Her heart has been completely shattered for anyone else. Y/n knows that she isn't destined for a happy end. She never was. That's why she vowed herself to never open up her heart, her soul, to anyone again. So, even if in the slim chance that she did have a mate and he or she ended up falling from the skies right onto her path, even if the Mother herself would tell her that 'this is your mate', y/n would just turn around and walk away.

It seems like she knew her answer.

Y/n's mood changed as she just got into a sitting position and said, "We should get up. They are probably worried about us."

Fenrys shifted to sit up, wincing slightly as he moved. "Y/n-"

Y/n watched him with concern, her hand lingering on his arm. "You should rest," she suggested gently. "Let me get Isolde—"

Fenrys shook his head, interrupting her. "I'm fine," he insisted, though the tightness around his eyes betrayed his words. "Just a few scratches."

Y/n frowned, unconvinced, but she nodded reluctantly. "Alright," she relented, knowing he was as stubborn as she was when it came to injuries.

Just then Eva burst into the room with Manon in tow as she came running at them.

"We heard noises and thought you two were awake!"

Y/n smiled at the younger girl as she just nodded her head and let Manon gently help her get off the bed.

At the noise, Aedion and Lorcan came in also helping Fenrys who was still skeptically glancing at the latter.

Aedion had a smirk on his face as he said out loud while leading Fenrys towards the door with Lorcan, "Seems like you two had quite the nap."

Manon shut him up before y/n could with a "Just take him and leave, blondie."

Everyone but Aedion laughed at the nickname as the males took Fenrys out of the room, y/n casting a final glance at his back before he disappeared.

Manon looked at Eva and said with a soft voice, "Go get the bath ready. She stinks."

The girl just laughed and nodded before going to the washroom.

When y/n looked back at the witch, she smelled....oh Gods "Seven hells, you stink of sex! And you say I stink?"

Manon blushed. She actually blushed as a pinkish tint overtook her pale cheeks.

"Can you blame me? I haven't seen him in.....three months."

Y/n couldn't hide the cheshire grin that was growing by the minute on her face as Manon sat her down on the chair near the vanity, slowly renewing her bandages as she said, "Oh really? How romantic, you two should definetly get married already."

Manon just smirked slightly "We'll see about that. What about you and your mate?"

When she saw y/n's frustrated expression, Manon quickly corrected herself, "I meant, I think he is your mate? I- Aelin told me you had someone like that, apparently he was going crazy over finding you."

Y/n just sadly shook her head, "No, he was my lover but not mate. Found his mate 50 years into our relationship and instead of telling me, cheated on me with her for two years while ignoring me. That caused me to have panick attacks and go back into my old habits which were.....not good so I don't want to talk about it. While this was happening, the rest of the family did nothing. No one gave me a shoulder to cry on or a presence to atleast vent to. They knew of his secret and didn't tell me either."

She saw Manon's expression go from one of concern and confusion to one of fury and ice as she said in a voice so cold, it made y/n shiver "Those bastards. You know, I would gladly go with you to your world just so I can kill them quickly and then slowly torture Azriel before ending him too."

Y/n just smiled while shaking her head.

"I leave for five minutes and come back to see Manon already plotting someones death."

They both turned their heads to see Eva standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed and glancing between them.

Manon's expression turned playful again as she stuck out her tounge to her while y/n gave a lighthearted laugh at that.

Eva just rolled her eyes with a small smile as she helped y/n get up and led her towards the bathroom with the witch.

When the three of them entered the dining room, they were welcomed by loud noises of everyone arguing.

The food lay forgotten as chaos erupted around the dining table. Rowan stood, his hands raised in a placating gesture, attempting to soothe Aelin who was in a heated argument with Dorian. Yrene shook her head in exasperation, trying to mediate between them. Chaol and Lysandra engaged in their own intense debate, their voices rising above the rest. Aedion, seated nearby, simply nodded along with whatever his wife said, wisely staying out of the fray.

Meanwhile, Lorcan seemed oblivious to the commotion, seizing the opportunity to shower his wife with kisses. Fenrys sat apart on a nearby couch, rubbing his temples with a look of frustration etched on his face.

Y/n heard Manon murmur "Grown ups but still act like damn children." before she gently sat y/n down with Eva's help on the couch opposite to Fenrys and went towards the table "We found an open gate!"

Everyone, including Fenrys and y/n, shut up and looked at the witch with absolute shock.

Dorian and Aedion spoke at the same time "What?! You're lying"

Manon just shrugged and went to take her place on the chair, "Yes, I am lying. Thought shouting this out would make you all finally shut up and come back to your senses."

Aelin just sighed while plopping back down on her chair "Manon, tell your little king to stop doubting every step of my plans."

Dorian just glared at her as he said, "If you call saying 'no' to a foolish idea 'doubting' then you are becoming mad in the head"

That earned him a growl from Rowan but before the silver haired prince could say anything, Eva interfered "What are you talking about?"

Rowan, not taking his eyes off of Dorian, replied, voice etched with frustration, "We are having a ball of sorts for tomorrow evening."

Lysandra just beckoned the girl over to her side with an exasperated sigh "The people are getting suspicious. Some residents said that they heard horrible noises last night, which was clearly because of your fight against the Valg-demon, the monks and sages in the sanctuary actually sent Aelin a letter demanding to know why some of their most ancient books containing dangerous information were used by me and Elide when we went there,"

Yrene filled her cup with water as she added, "Apparently, us all being here is also a cause for concern for many including lord Darrow who is getting really suspicious about us arriving here out of the blue. Not to mention, y/n, you weren't as slick as you thought because you were spotted by some when you flew over the city the other night."

Chaol just looked at his wife with wide eyes "You support their idea? We don't need any extra attention. Hosting this silly little ball for the sake of calming the lords and ladies is just a waste of time AND resources."

Manon just smirked "Actually, it is an amazing idea. Everyone will believe that we are here for this gathering and will therefore, stop worrying and sniffing where they don't belong. We won't have to look over our shoulder every second to see if anyone is suspicious. Especially Darrow."

Lorcan nodded as he looked pointedly at Chaol "It is also a great chance for the Valg's to try something. We can all be on alert and ready to strike if that happens. And then get some answers out of them."

Dorian just shrugged while coming to sit next to Manon "Well, if this woman beside me says that the idea is amazing, who am I to disagree?"

Aelin narrowed her eyes at the young king "Oh, so when I say it, the plan is horrible but when Manon agrees, suddenly the plan is amazing?"

"Exactly" Dorian said as a matter of fact while winking at the blond female.

Aelin was about to retort when Rowan put a hand on her shoulder while announcing to the room "It is decided then. We are having a ball tomorrow."

Dorian then turned his eyes to y/n and got up, coming closer to the couch on which she was sitting in "When Aelin told me that you have wings, I thought she was making things up. Turns out you do truly have wings! Very fascinating, by the way."

Dorian stood right infront of her now, extending his hand out for her to shake and as she took his hand in hers, he said with a blinding smile, "Dorian Haviliard the Second. King of Adarlan and....well, that's all, essentially."

"And Manon's lapdog" Aedion snorted from the table followed by other laughs and chuckles. Dorian just rolled his eyes "Ignore that one, he doesn't realize it but we all see how he follows and does whatever Lysandra says like a lovesick puppy."

Y/n smiled as Lysandra snickered while Aedion scoffed "Nice to meet you, your majesty. I'm y/n y/l/n, from Prythian. Specifically, the Illyrian mountains."

"Please, call me Dorian. I think you and I will get along just fine, y/n. Let's sit down and talk some time, yes?"

"Absolutely, Dorian."

She heard someone clear their throat as both y/n and Dorian looked to see Fenrys, with a blank look directed at the king beside her, say "Well, now that the plan is decided and the introductions are out of the way, can we start eating? I am hungry."

At that, Aelin voiced her agreement as Dorian went back to his place beside Manon and the servants brought food to the low table between y/n and Fenrys.

She would have to thank whoever's idea it was to make them sit on the couches because y/n didn't think she would be comfortable with her injured shoulder, sitting on one of those chairs and neither would the warrior sitting in front of her with his injured torso.

The room buzzed with conversation as they ate, the tension gradually easing with each passing moment. Dorian's voice rose occasionally above the others, regaling them with tales that drew laughter and camaraderie. Y/n found herself relaxing in the company of these extraordinary individuals, each with their own stories and struggles, yet united in their commitment to protecting their world.

But y/n noticed that Fenrys barely even touched his food despite claiming to be starved. She sighed as she took the fork and spoon to her hand, "For someone who said he was hungry, you haven't eaten much."

He just kept playing around with his meal, not eating anything "You two were taking too long with your introductions so I decided to do everyone a favor and end it."

Y/n raised an eyebrow as she took a bite of her meal, deciding to test the waters a bit.

"Well that's just rude Fenrys. I actually quite liked Dorian. I can see why Manon is with him. I mean, just look at that face-"

"One more word, I dare you."

The look on his face told her all she needed to know. Fenrys was jealous. In fact, he was burning with it as he stared her down, his gaze turning darker with each second.

Y/n licked her lips, her gaze never wavering from his as she watched him clench and unclench his hands (which seemed to be a habit of his when he is aroused or angry) while staring at her mouth.

"So, so charming too. The way he talks-"

Fenrys got up abruptly, the action causing a slight wince from him before he slowly started walking out of the room. Y/n got up to go after him but Lorcan beat her to it and as much as she hated the giant man for it, she knew they also had an issue to resolve and talk about.

Deciding to give them their moment, she slowly started heading back to her room, wincing whenever her shoulder would move too much.

"Where do you think you're going all on your own with an injury like that?"

Y/n turned around to see Lysandra slowly walking over to her in the hallway, arms crossed over her chest. The shifter reached her and took her uninjured arm, slowly helping her walk.

"I don't need to be coddled at all times, you know."

Lysandra just smirked but did not remove her hands from y/n's arm "I know, and I also know that the last time you woke up injured from a Valg attack and were left all on you own, you decided to venture out into the city with Nox and get yourself nearly killed by another Valg creation."

Y/n scoffed "You make it sound like I knew that would happen. I had no idea that Nox was even out there!"

Lysandra chuckled quietly as they turned a corner. "I know, I am sorry for ever doubting you. I truly like you now. Your commitment to helping us not only because you want to go home but also because you are worried that the Valg pose as a threat to everyone really made me trust you fully."

Y/n sighed, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Lysandra's support meant a lot to her, especially given the uncertainties they all faced. She leaned slightly on the shifter for support as they walked through the quiet palace corridors.

"I appreciate that, Lysandra," y/n replied earnestly. "I just... I can't sit idly by when there's a chance to make a difference. And after what happened with Nox, I understand the dangers better. And I think I am beginning to understand Elara's weird words."

Lysandra looked at her with a confused expression "Elara? Who in the Gods name is that?"

Y/n chuckled before replying "This woman who has appeared to me twice. Apparently, she is an iron teeth witch who has given me some very cryptic advice and disappeared before I could get answers to all of my questions. I really am stuck, needing to understand more about my powers and connections to this whole thing. And without her, I don't think I ever will."

She felt Lysandra stiffen beside her and stop abruptly, causing y/n to come to a halt as well. She stared at the ground, her eyes calculating as she seemed to slowly digest all that y/n just told her before whispering a "Maybe you don't even need her for answers."

Before y/n could even question her, the shifter quickly let go of y/n and ran back shouting over her shoulder, "Go to your room and wait for me there!"

Y/n, still very shocked and confused at what just happened, climbed up the last few stairs and headed to her bedchamber.

After around thirty minutes, Lysandra burst into her room with a scroll in her hand and Manon beside her. The second her eyes landed on y/n who was sitting on the couch near the window, she took quick strides to reach her. Once she was in front of the witch, Lysandra kneeled down, sitting on the low table in front of y/n and opening up the scroll. Manon also came to quickly stand beside her as she waited to hear what Lysandra had to say.

"This is an ancient text," Lysandra began, her voice filled with reverence. "It speaks of Elara, an iron teeth witch who lived centuries ago. She was not only powerful but also deeply connected to the magical gates that connect our world with others."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat. "Connected to the gates?"

"Yes," Lysandra confirmed, her eyes scanning the parchment. "Elara's abilities were linked to the gates themselves. She could open and close them at will, wielding their power to protect our realm from threats that sought to cross over."

"Wait. How....how do you know all this? How did you know about this scroll?"

Lysandra just looked at Manon, who was still staring at the shifter with a questioning look in her eyes, as she said, "Because Elara has been a legend in our world for as long as any of us can remember. Isn't that right, Manon? Even your grandmother knew of her."

Manon just crossed her arms, seemingly still questioning her, "I am aware of who Elara is. Even Rhiannon Crochan knew of her. Her name would always be whispered around our camps, our stories. What I don't understand is what you told me on the way, about y/n and Elara. Why is she contacting her? I don't mean this in an insulting way but, she has been known as a legend for so long that it is just unbelievable to hear this."

Y/n opened her mouth to reply but was cut off when Lysandra looked down at the scroll and continued, "Yes. Well, she has not only been a legend to Ironteeth Witches, but to the rest of us as well. I had this scroll with me ever since I can remember. I was just so fascinated with her that when I once came across it in one of the antique stores, I had to have it and with time, I began thinking maybe I was a fool for being so obsessed with her, her existence, thinking if she was real or not but....now I realize how she may be real after all."

Y/n's brows hit her hairline as she just gaped at the female in front of her "So you are telling me that I have talked with the most ancient, the most legendary witch of your world?"

"Maybe not even our world."

Both Manon and y/n looked at the shifter with furrowed brows, urging her to explain more.

"Elara was a legend. Her story though mostly unknown, was one full of bravery and sacrifice. She was a chosen one. Her powers being more than just iron teeth and nails. And her name....her name existed for centuries according to the scroll but...."

Y/n saw the realization dawn upon Manon as the witch beside her shifted her position, her eyes getting wider by the second "No way....Lysandra, if we are thinking the same thing then that- that would be impossible."

What? What was she talking about?

Lysandra just shook her head, a smile forming on her face "Would it though? I mean, her name may have stopped being mentioned in this world, in our books and scrolls but what if she went into another world? She did have that connection with the gates after all."

Manon slowly turned her head to y/n as she whispered, "And what if...."

Lysandra also looked at y/n as she said, "What if she went to Prythian, met a man, male, whatever.....had a child with him. A daughter, to be precise."

Manon added quietly, "A winged male and an iron teeth witch who had connection with the gates, who was a wyrdkey of sorts, to them. What could be the odds?"

Realization started to slowly dawn upon her as y/n just shifted her gaze from one female to the other. She laughed uneasily "No you two surely must be delusional. There is not a chance. No way in the seven hells are you suggesting that-"

"You are Elara's daughter." Both the witch and the shifter say at the same time.

No.

No.

It was impossible.

Was it though? You are an iron teeth witch who has wings and an unusual connection to the gates. It could be the only explana-

"Find Manon. Let her know. And find me again when you are ready."

Those were the words Elara had told her when she first appeared to her in an illusion created by the mirror in the crystal caverns.

She needs to go down there again and talk to her, somehow summon her.

Y/n needed answers and she needed them now.

When she came back from her thoughts, she saw both of them staring at her, one with wide eyes and the other with a knowing smile.

Y/n sighed "I- I need to process this. We can discuss this tomorrow."

Lysandra nodded, still smiling, "Of course, see you in the morning."

Then, she got up and dragged a wide eyed Manon who was stuck to her place, towards the door, closing it behind them.

The second the door was closed, y/n jumped from her position and went towards the hidden passageway in her room, getting a small knife, her lamp and a cloak. She removed the floorboard and began her descent.

She went through the same path as the last time. The same narrow ways, damp roads, circular door and the crystal caverns itself.

That last time felt like a lifetime ago, a time when she was still new to the revelations of her own abilities, still grappling with the mysteries of her lineage and the hidden truths of her past. Now, standing before the circular door once more, she felt a sense of resolve and determination, tempered by the wisdom gained through trials and discoveries.

With a steadying breath, y/n pushed open the door, the faint creak of ancient hinges echoing softly in the cavernous silence beyond. As she stepped into the crystal caverns, bathed in their gentle radiance, she knew that this time, she was not just seeking answers—she was ready to uncover the deeper truths that awaited her.

She took the small narrow road to where the mirror was and now standing before it, she had no idea what to do. Y/n stared and stared some more. She needed to think this through. How do you call Elara? The first time she appeared to y/n was because of an illusion that the mirror created and the second time was when y/n got attacked and fell unconscious later on.

So....what does she do now?

With a sigh, y/n said out loud while looking at her reflection in the ancient mirror, "I know. I know the truth now. You are my mother, aren't you?"

No answer, no reply. Nothing.

She still continued, "When we met for the first time, you told me to come find you when I was ready. I think I am ready now. Ready to see you......mother."

Before she could react, y/n saw as her surroundings become a blur, shifting until she was once more on the beach but this time, instead of the moon, there was the sun shining above, casting its glow over the waters.

And then, there was Elara, coming towards y/n with her white flowy dress and beautiful smile.

When the witch reached y/n, they didn't say anything to one another for a short moment, preferring to just look into one anothers gaze. Elara's eyes held a depth that seemed to reflect the eons she had witnessed, yet they softened with a tenderness as she regarded y/n. The wind whispered through the air, carrying the faint scent of salt and seaweed as they stood on the sun-kissed beach.

"My child," Elara finally spoke, her voice gentle yet resonant with an underlying power. "You have grown strong and resilient, despite the trials fate has woven into your path."

Y/n's tried to hold back her impending tears at the adoring way the woman called her. Instead, she whispered in a quiet tone, "Why....why didn't you tell this to me from the first time? Why did you leave me alone in that cruel place, in that monsters hands? Why wasn't my dad with me either? Why did you abandon me? Why- just why?!"

"My child," Elara began, her voice a gentle breeze that carried both warmth and sadness, "the reasons are not simple, nor are they easy to explain. But know this: every decision I made was out of love for you and a deep understanding of the dangers that surrounded us."

Y/n's eyes welled with tears, but she held Elara's gaze firmly, needing to hear the truth, however painful it might be. "I wish I could have been there with you," Elara continued, her voice soft yet steady. "But there are forces at play that even I cannot fully control. The realm of the Valg, their insidious presence, their hunger for power... It demanded sacrifices, and I made the hardest one of all by leaving you in that world."

"Why didn't you prepare me? Why did you let me believe I was alone?" y/n asked, her voice tinged with hurt.

Elara's expression softened further, regret etching lines on her face. "I wanted to protect you from the knowledge that would burden your heart and soul. I feared that if you knew too soon, it would consume you. And your father..." She paused, a shadow passing over her features. "Your father sacrificed himself to keep you safe."

Y/n's eyes widened with both shock and confusion, "W-what....what do you mean?"

Elara sighed and gently took y/n's hand in hers, caressing it "I fell in love, y/n. Your father and I loved each other so much that we couldn't imagine a life without the other. I thought....I thought that because I was in a different world, I would be able to live a normal life. We got a house in the very otskirts of Illyria, then we had you and you....you were the joy of our life my witchling. For a time, we were happy and at peace, just the three of us. And foolish me thought that this happiness could last forever. Oh how wrong I was."

Elara closed her eyes and inhaled sharply before continuing again, "Somehow, someway, the Valgs found me. Erawan found me. It was in the middle of the night when I felt their presence not so far off from where we used to stay. I quickly woke up your father....Marx, and told him what was going on. He ordered me to take you and run, told me that he would meet us on the edge of the mountains and we would run away together. The three of us. He hugged and kissed both you and me before I ran away with you in my arms while he stayed behind. Little did I know, that would be the last time I would ever see him again."

Elara's eyes were teary now as she gave a sad smile to her daughter "Marx never came. And I knew....I knew that he did not make it. But I had to go back, I had to. I brought this disaster with me. However, I also needed to keep you safe. So, I put you in front of a door of the first proper looking house I could find. I had no time to think, no time to plan. I placed a protective spell over you, kissed and hugged you for one last time, said my blessings over you, and then I was gone. If I only knew what a monster I was giving you to, my witchling. And for that, I am sorry. I am so sorry my heart. But I couldn't let them know that I had a daughter. That I had someone I cared for. Or else, they would have come for you as well, which they seem to be doing now."

Y/n couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, what her mother was telling her. Her father.....her brave father had secrificed himself to keep his family safe.

With a shaky breath, y/n's grip on her mother's hand tightened as she asked "And did you....did you find him?"

Elara slowly nodded her head, eyes seemingly lost in the terrible memory of finding her lovers body in whatever condition it was. She didn't say more and y/n didn't ask more, seemingly afraid of hearing just how she found his body.

But she did ask, her voice shaky now due to the tears that began to fall, "Where...where did you go? Where are you?"

Elara's eyes softened with sorrow as she gently squeezed y/n's hand. "After I left you, I wandered through dimensions, seeking refuge where the Valg could not reach. I sought allies, learned ancient magics, and built defenses against their relentless pursuit. But with every step I took to protect you, I grew farther from the life I once knew."

She paused, her voice thick with emotion. "Eventually, I found solace in a realm untouched by the Valg's corruption. It is a place where time flows differently, where the energies are harmonious and the darkness cannot penetrate. There, I have been watching over you, my dear, waiting for the right moment."

Elara's gaze was filled with maternal love. "You are stronger than I could have ever imagined, y/n. You carry within you the blood of our lineage, a legacy of resilience and magic. And now, as the Valg threaten once more, you must end them completely. My power of connecting to the gates, connecting with the Book of Breathings is installed in you as well. The book knew that you were my descendant from the moment it fell into Rhysands hands. Even though Erawan is dead, somehow the Valgs are returning. You must figure that out. They felt your presence, your true lineage the second the book transported you."

So much was going on. Y/n had so much to say and ask but all she asked was, "How can I bring you back to me....mother."

Elaras eyes lit up at that before she raised her hands and gently caressed her daughter's cheek "You can not. I waited all this time for you to finally realize who you were, what your destiny was and now....now that I have guided you, it is time for me to go-"

"No! Are you mad?! We just reunited! I can not loose you-"

"You will never loose me, my Braveheart. You will always have me, my presence will always guide you on your journey. But I have lived for so long, it is time for me to rest as well, time to rejoin with my love, your father, Marx."

Y/n was fully crying by now, as she agressively shook her head, "No! Mother, please!"

Elara leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before hugging her and whispering, "Your father and I have loved you from the moment we laid our eyes on you. And we will keep loving you for eternity, our witchling. We are so proud of you, of how strong, resilient, and brave you are. Of how you endured so much and yet came out even stronger. Always remember who you are, what your power is and end them. Once and for all, end them."

And with that, y/n's surrounding began to blur once more as she felt herself falling and falling until her eyes popped open and she was....in her room. Sitting on the bed. Wasn't she in the crystal caverns? How is she here?

But y/n didn't care. Didn't ponder over those questions as the memory of what just happened took over her mind, making her silently weep into her arms.

Fenrys was frustrated. At what? he didn't know.

At whom? He did know. At himself.

He doesn't understand this....this attraction, this pull he has towards y/n. Whenever they are in the same room, his eyes somehow end up on her, his body somehow finds its way to wherever she is. Whenever she is hurt or in danger? He turns into this violent killer who only thinks of one thing: Protect her. Kill everyone else.

It was starting to get frustrating how he felt all kinds of emotions towards her. How his mind began thinking of her.

Last night during dinner, he was annoyed with how Dorian kept on talking to her. Fenrys knew that Dorian didn't see y/n in that way, after all....he had his eyes on the witch and only on her. Even if they both refused it, everyone and their mother saw how those two were hopelessly in love with one another.

So why did he want to punch Dorian in the face when he saw how the king was the one to make her laugh and not him?

And then, during dinner, y/n's teasing just added to his growing frustration and lust. The way she talked, the way she purposefully kept licking her lips made him want to just take her then and there, in front of everyone.

Fenrys knew that this was wrong, that she would leave sooner or later so feeling this possessive, this claiming need within him was just stupid. But could he stop it? No, no he couldn't.

Last night, after he stood up and left, he saw her get up too and he wanted her to follow him. Fenrys knew that if she would follow him, he wouldn't have been able to keep his hands to himself this time. That he would have made his fantasies about her come true. But then, Lorcan came after him and Fenrys saw how y/n contemplated on following him before clearly choosing not to.

He did feel disappointed but that was forgotten the second Lorcan caught up with him and they began walking side by side through the halls of the palace. He had apologized to Fenrys and Fenrys was absolutely shocked that Lorcan of all people was apologizing. Fenrys could have asked for forgiveness as well, for what he did to his lifelong companion but....he felt no guilt or remorse for protecting y/n's honor, for getting justice for her.

Gods, Fenrys, since when have you gone this mad and caused chaos over a female. That's right, never. So why her? Why now?

These were the questions he kept asking himself while going back to the palace after his morning training when he heard another roar. And no, this wasn't Abraxos because he had already memorized the wyvern's noises by heart. This was another wyvern, this was...Fenrys lifted his head skywards as he saw....Petrah Blueblood.

He remembers the witch whom he came to care for. The poor girl went through so much, just like Manon. He remembers how after the war, when he would go to the Witch Kingdom, he would see Petrah who was now Manon's second in command and how she would still mourn the loss of her wyvern, Keelie. Killed by Iskra Yellowlegs.

This wyvern was one of the few who hatched after the war and Petrah was immediately drawn to it. She raised it all on her own and it grew up to be very large. It was also a female whom she named Luna.

But, what was she doing here now? That's when he also saw Manon and Abraxos in the opening, waiting for her and Luna to land.

He approached Manon while Petrah and Luna were still a little bit away, and spoke first, "Well, this is certainly not what I expected to see first thing in the morning."

Manon just crossed her arms, still looking towards wherever Petrah was in the sky, as she replied, "I needed Petrah with us for this hunt. Her wyvern is very good with smell, she has the unique abilitiy to scent things that are miles and miles away. Besides, Petrah said that she had news she wanted to tell me face to face....and maybe she was also curious about y/n."

He saw how at the mention of her name, Manon's face turned amused, how her eyes held a mixture of wonder and pride. She clearly was thinking of something and Fenrys desperately wanted to know what because it involved y/n but just as he was about to ask, Luna landed right next to Abraxos who was seemingly growing smitten with the female wyvern as they rumbled at one another and Petrah came down.

She and Manon exchanged their witchy greeting, whatever that is before Petrah smiled at Fenrys "How nice to see you again."

Fenrys returned her smile with one of his own "Nice to see you doing well, Petrah."

The witch nodded her gratitude before looking back at Manon "One of our witches was somehow working for the Valg, the second I found out about this, I ordered for her capture and questioning, but she wouldn't talk."

Manon just raised an eyebrow "Was she infested with Valg-"

"No. She was working for them, willingly. Why? I don't know."

"Don't tell me you killed her without getting any answers out of her first."

Petrah just smirked at her queen "You are really underestimating me now, Manon. I gave the order for her to be tortured just last night and immediately flew over here to deliver the news. Whatever information the witches get out of her now, they will send the news immediately."

The queen just nodded her head while Fenrys asked, "How did you even find out about this?"

Petrah shrugged her shoulders "I have my ways, wolf."

"There will be a ball tonight, keep your eyes open and alert at all times. Anything might happen."

Petrah nodded at her queen as Fenrys just said his farewell to the witches before heading towards his room for a much needed bath.

Y/n slept through the whole day. The whole day! waking up when it was already sunset. Clearly, all the events of the last fews days have drained her beyond repair. And what she found out about last night.....she cried until she physically couldn't anymore and probably fell asleep.

When she awoke, there was a note right next to her on the bed:

You must be really tired especially after what we told you last night but, if you wake up, remember there is a ball tonight late in the afternoon.

Hope you're well,

Lysandra

Oh, yes! The ball! she completely forgot!

Y/n noticed that there was only an hour until the start of the event and immediately jumped out of her bed, hissing loudly when her shoulder hurt from the movement. But, she quickly recovered and headed towards her closet in search of an appropriate dress.

Fourty minutes later, y/n stood in the center of her room, her hair made and jeweleries shining as she admired her beautiful dress.

The dress was crafted from a flowing, soft fabric like silk, in a shade of deep midnight blue that shimmers subtly under the light. The neckline is modest yet elegant, gently framing the collarbones without revealing too much. The sleeves are three-quarter length, providing coverage while allowing the injured shoulder freedom of movement.

The waist is cinched with a delicate sash, adding a touch of definition without restricting comfort. As the dress cascades down, it drapes gracefully to the floor, accentuating the figure without being form-fitting.

The simplicity of the design is elevated by intricate embroidery along the neckline and cuffs, catching the eye with its understated elegance. This dress not only exudes charm and sophistication but also ensures ease of movement.

With a final look at herself, y/n left her room and descended the stairs, heading towards the event.

Twenty minutes later, the room was filled with people whom, y/n guessed to be very important. When she arrived, she saw most of Aelin's court already here, had a round of drinks with Lysandra and Lorcan, danced a little with Eva and Elide, got on Aedion and Rowan's nerves, watched together with Yrene how Aelin greets her guests, talked a little more with Dorian and Chaol, and met Manon who had another witch next to her, Petrah Blueblood.

She was also very beautiful. Her skin was as pale as Manon's but adorned with freckles, had a long golden, flowy hair and had deep blue eyes. When Manon introduced them, Petrah gave y/n a genuine smile and told her how happy she was to meet her. How y/n was known as a winged ironteeth whom every witch wanted to meet now that Manon mentioned her to them.

Y/n felt honored, grateful but surprised and a little flustered as well as she said her thanks and chatted a little more with the witches before excusing herself in search of someone else. In search of him. She didn't see Fenrys yet but she knew that he was in the room, watching her. She felt his eyes on her once again. Seems like they had this thing where he would watch her and she would put on a show for him.

But then, their eyes met and y/n felt weak in the knees. Fenrys was there, standing in the corner with a drink in his hand, watching her with an intense gaze. He was so handsome, hair put in a half bun, some strands falling in front of his handsome face, his tailored coat of deep midnight blue was interwoven with threads that shimmer subtly under the light. The coat is fitted at the shoulders and chest, tapering slightly at the waist before flaring out slightly over sturdy trousers of the same hue.

Beneath the coat, a high-collared shirt in a lighter shade of blue peeks out, adding a hint of contrast and sophistication. The sleeves of the shirt are gathered at the wrists with intricate embroidery in silver and his boots are sturdy leather, polished to a deep sheen.

He was beyond handsome, beyond attractive. He was otherworldly, seemingly crafted out of the finest form of marble. She really wanted to do less than appropriate things to him right now and from the way his eyes were eating her whole, he was thinking the same.

Y/n was so entranced with him that she failed to notice Nox Owens come and stand beside her, offering her a drink.

"And so we meet again, my partner in hunting Valgs."

She hesitantly pulled her gaze away from Fenrys and turned to loook at the man beside her, taking the drink in his hand while thanking him.

Y/n took a sip of the drink, feeling the cool liquid soothe her parched throat. Nox stood beside her, his posture relaxed yet alert, his eyes scanning the room with a practiced ease.

She said, "Good to see you're doing well."

Nox looked at her, a smirk forming on his handsome face, "Well, if the Valgs want me dead, they have got to try harder than pushing me onto the ground."

"Thank you, for everything Nox, without your help, I don't think we could've survived that monster."

He just shrugged his shoulder and was seemingly about to say something when she felt Fenrys right behind her. His chest was touching her back, causing goosebumps to rise all over her body.

He said behind her, in that voice of whiskey and sin, "I need to talk to you."

Wthout even waiting for a reaction from her or Nox, Fenrys took her drink, put it on the nearby table, grabbed her arm, and dragged her out of the ball.

He found an unusued, dark room and entered it, still holding her by the arm before closing the door. Y/n ripped her arm away from his grip before looking at him, her arms crossed "Fenrys what in the seven hells are you doing?!"

He didn't reply, his gaze just intensified, those wild eyes zoning in on her lips. While that action did a lot of things to her body, y/n was still angry at him.

"Fenrys! Look at me, what is wro-"

Before she could even continue, he took two quick strides to reach her and tilted her face toward him with his fingers.

All the air was sucked out of her body as y/n realized their position. His face was mere inches away from her, their bodies nearly touching, his lips right in front of hers.

He was clearly holding himself back, he was restraining himself. And for some foolish reason, she didn't want him to.

"Kiss me"

Y/n realized her words only a second after she said them, but she wasn't ashamed, no. She wanted this. Wanted him. Tomorrow, tomorrow she would think about her actions, tomorrow she would be a responsible, levelheaded female once more. But just for tonight, in this dark room, this would be their little secret.

Fenrys' eyes widened, his chest heaving, "Y/n..."

"Kiss me, Fenrys."

And he did. He kissed her so quickly, their lips meeting in an urgent collision. It wasn't a soft, loving, intimate kiss. No, it was rough, needy and full of lust. His hand went to her waist, bringing her closer to him, their bodies joined as one, the other held her by the back of her neck, bringing her closer to him.

Y/n's hands were in his hair as she kissed him just as urgently. He pushed her towards the wall, caging her between himself and the stone behind her.

It was during this intense moment that a nock came on the door.

"Y/n? Are you there? Come quickly, we need to talk!"

It was Lysandra, her voice shattering the growing lust between them, bringing them back to reality. Fenrys' eyes widened as he pushed away from her and looked towards the door.

"Fenrys-"

"This never shoul've happened. This is wrong."

Without even looking at her, he went towards the door, unlocked it and pushed past an amused Lysandra, heading towards the main doors.

Y/n barely had time to recollect her thoughts when Lysandra just looked at her with raised eyebrows and a small smile, saying "We have a guest, specifically asked for you. Says he is from Prythian."

What?!

Y/n just nodded "Show me"

They went towards the sitting room at the other end of the hall and once Lysandra opened the door, y/n thought she was seeing things.

Lucien was here. Lucien.

It was actually him. He wasn't a transparent ghost like Amren was, he was here, in his physical body.

He looked awful. His hair a mess of twigs and mud, his clothes crumpled and dirty, his eyes wide as he looked at her.

Everyone except Rowan and Aelin was in the room, clearly because they were the hosts of the ball, and of course Fenrys was nowehere to be seen either.

She would deal with him later. Now, now as she took this redhead in-

His hands, they were holding the Book of Breathings.

Lucien came closer to her "Y/n!"

Y/n's shock was written all over her face as she looked at him with wide eyes, "Lucien! What in the Mothers name are you doing here?!"

His eyes looked all over the room, at everyone, and then came back to her as well as he said "Y/n.....Mother above, finally....I-"

Y/n gently put her hand on his shoulder "Lu, what- how did you find me? How did you get the book?"

He just sighed and closed his eyes, "You might want to sit down for this."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Omg! Our fox boy is here! I wonder what will happen next ;)

Taglist: @ladespedidas @mis-lil-red @going-through-shit @kaitttttttt @blackgirlmagicforever

@acotar-writing @paleidiot @snoopyspace @stained-glass-eyes0708 @saltedcoffeescotch

@wallacewillow0773638 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget @bunnyredgirl

@fullmoon-94 @thecraziestcrayon @idkwahr

@sstrohma @optimisticbabydreamer @rcarbo1 @batboygirlie

[crossfandomslut]

More Eris in a robe doodle ! 📚🍁

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire pt. 5

At Peace in your Fire pt 5

Summary: Y/n and Eris exchange letters and the high lord’s meeting...

Pairing: Eris/Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: Fluff mostly haha I couldn't bring myself to make it angsty I'm sorry! Not proof read

Notes: Thank you all for waiting and I hope part 5 is worth it!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Eris,

If you so eagerly await my response, I suppose I will take pity on you and make haste in sending my next letter. I am relieved to know that my feelings of curiosity are not one sided and that I did not scare you off with my… outburst during our dance. I would be lying if I said I was not hurt by your abrupt exit and refusal to make eye contact afterward. Has no one ever spoken to you so freely, Heir of Autumn?

My kindest regards,

Y/n

Little dove,

It would be and understatement to say that I’m embarrassed by my actions that night in Hewn City. Truth be told, no. Only my own mother has spoken to me in such a way that made me feel scolded, shameful, and yet… also feel seen. No one has looked at me with such softness. If you truly knew me and the things I have done, you would not look at me like that. You certainly would not be writing to me. But the deeply selfish part of myself will not stop you. I will respond to every letter and lay my soul bare to you in hopes that with your kind eyes you will see something worthy in it. You are the most precious being I have ever met and if all I ever get is a few letters from you and one night of dancing, that will be enough. It may be all of which I am worthy.

Yours,

Eris

Y/n read that letter over and over again. Traced his words with her fingertips and memorized every line. She did not know what it was about him, but she couldn’t get enough of him. It was like her own soul longed for his. There was no reason for this feeling, but it held her in a tight grip. She knew she should not keep him waiting, but she needed to talk to her sister about this. It couldn’t be Feyre; she was already keeping her little crush a secret from Rhys. If she knew Y/n and Eris were sending letters to each other, she would have to tell her mate. So, she went to her sister who would, without a doubt, keep this secret. Nesta.

Y/n quickly found Cassian and asked to go see her sisters at the House of Wind, and he swept her up and flew her over. I should learn to use my wind to learn to fly… Y/n thought as they landed on the roof of the house. Cassian left Y/n to go look for her sister and he walked to the living room to wait for her. He was just happy to have an excuse to not do real work and Rhys couldn’t get mad because he was helping Y/n!

Nesta was exactly where Y/n knew she would be. In the library. “Hey, Nes!”

“Hey flame, how’s it going living with the worst high lord ever and his lackies?”

“Nes…”

“I know, I know, they’ve been great to you and you’re adapting like you always do. I still don’t know where you got that from. It’s not like our parents were fluid or easy going.”

“I don’t know Nes, sometimes what we learn from our parents is what we don’t want to become. Fey and I are the youngest, we got to watch you and Elain learn and make mistakes so we never had to. We were lucky in that way.”

“Yeah. Not in many other ways though.” Nesta looked at her sister with a tenderness only reserved for her and Elain. Y/n wasn’t sure why Nesta and Feyre butted heads so much, but it broke her heart. Something to focus on another time. For now, she was here to ask for advice from her oldest sister.

“Nes, I need to tell you something and it can not leave this room.”

“Like I ever leave this room?”

Y/n chuckled, “fair enough. Okay… you remember Eris?”

“Did he finally grow a pair and send you a letter?”

Y/n balked at her sister’s bluntness. “You know??”

Nesta barked out a luagh, “of course I know! You didn’t see the way he looked at you when you fell unconscious during the meeting. Hell- he caught you before you could hit the ground and looked ready to kill Azriel when he took you from his arms.”

“Wh-what?”

“Oh yeah, he’s like obsessed with you. So what did his letter say?”

Y/n pulled out the letters from Eris and showed them to her sister, also telling her what she had responded.

“Damn, he is way more obsessed with you than I thought. Have you replied to this one?”

“No, not yet. I needed to talk to you about it. What do I do Nes? The rest of the family hates him and thinks he’s a terrible male. They’ve known him for literal centuries, so who am I to say that he’s not bad and tell them they ‘just don’t know him’?”

“I don’t know flame, the way he looked at you that night and the way he’s writing to you, I think it’s worth sending a few more letters back and forth. You know I’m quick to read people, and that look was not the look of someone plotting to take advantage or use you. I think he’s genuine.”

“Okay. Thank you, Nes. Do you have a quill and parchment?”

Eris has been sweating all damn day. Every second alone he got he was practically running to the nearest window to look at the sky in search of a letter. It went on like this until the sun began to set, casting the Autumn Court sky a rich, golden glow. Eris finally returned to his rooms, lit the fire in the hearth and slumped into his chair. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief to finally get some peace and quiet.

A tapping sounded on his window startled him from his thoug. A piece of parchment was impatiently running itself into the glass on a phatntom wind and Eris shot from his chair to stumble over to the window and throw it open. He snatched the letter from the air and felt like the air was sucked from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe as he fumbled the letter open.

Dear Eris,

I want to start by thanking you for your candor and beautiful words. Secondly, I want to appologize for taking my time responding. I wanted to give you a response thoughtful and thorogh enough to encapsulate my true feelings. I want to know you, the real you, desperately. I want to see the good, the bad, and the ugly and to hold space for you to be. I don’t know where that desire comes from, but I feel it. You feel so familiar to me although we have only formally met once. Outside of my sisters you feel like the only right thing in this new world and new life. My kindness is not wasted on you, my dear. You are deserving and you are enough. Let me see your rough edges and I will show you mine.

Tentatively  yours,

Y/n

Eris could have cried reading that letter, but instead he sucked in a deep breath that gave oxygen to the fire burning in his heart. He was trying not to allow himself to hope before, but now… Y/n had shattered all prospect of that. For the first time in a long time, Eris was hopeful. He laughed softly, joyfully, as he wrote back to her.

Little dove,

I can’t tell you how your words have effected me. I will hold onto these letters for all my enteral days and when you finally see me, and realize you shouldn’t associate with me, I will re-read your kind words and dream about a time that you saw me as worthy. Since you want to know me, here are a few small things: I own and care for a pack of hunting dogs, they’re called smokehounds. I tell everyone I don’t have a favorite, but that’s a lie, I do and her name is Willow. She is my oldest hound and has been my companion for many years. Smokehounds live much longer that any human dog, much like us Fae, but they sadly do not live eternal lives. The reason I tell no one that she’s my favorite is because I fear it being used against me. Compassion has always been seen as a weakness and something to exploit by my father and brothers. The next second fact about me is that until very recently, my favorite color was the marage of oranges and yellows of the trees in this court. Now, however, my favorite color is that of your eyes. Your stunning eyes that bless my dreams and every waking moment. I long for the next time I’m lucky enough to be in your presence and catch a glimpse of the gold flecks that litter them and the crease between your brows as you look at me like a puzzle to solve. Now, tell me about you, my dove.

Yours for as long as you let me,

Eris

Dear Eris,

I am at a loss for words. But for you, I will do my best to string some together. I think it’s beautiful that you have a favorite hound. I was never allowed an animal companion, but I always admired the hunters who had hounds to work with them, to share in their victories and comfort them in their losses. Tell me more about Willow. What does she like to hunt? What was she like as a pup? As for my favorite color, my answer is strikingly simlar to yours. Until recently, my favorite color was the deep green of a rain covered forrest. So dark that only the animals that lived there, and those with keen trained eyes could seem through the under brush. But now, my favorite color is the red of your hair that falls so delecately to your shoulders, and even though the rest of you is so sharp and put together, your hair still falls into your face. When I close my eyes to dream, I see your amber eyes and your soft auburn locks, and I dream of bruhsing the strands away form your eyes to look at your fully. Since we are being so honst with each other, I’m not embarassed to say such things. And I want to thank you for making me feel so comfortable to express my thoughts. I have lived so much of my life in silence, only broken by my sisters and not until we were too old to change each other’s ways. Us Archeron’s are stubborn ladies and we like to handle things on our own. I am grateful that after our mother died, we learned to lean on each other. It sounds like you have a much different relationship with your brothers… Tell me about that. If youre comfortable of course. I am growing rather fond of exchanging these letters.

Y/n

Little dove,

Please, never be embarassed for speaking your truth. I find you so refeshing and lovely. I have not felt this way for someone before. I am known for being cruel and ridgid and unyeilding, but you, Dove, have made me soft in a way I didn’t know I was capable of, and it feel so strange because I hardly know you at all. I have known your dear sisters to be stubborn, and I’m ammused to know it is a family trait. What was your mother like? Your father? My brothers are terrible and vile. All but my youngest, Lucien. I tried to protect them form my father’s corruption, but I failed them. Baron’s cruelty knows no bounds and he will go to any extreme for complete submission. My mother is the only light in this dark house and I have watched that light slowly dim my whole life. It scares me greatly. I am glad to hear that you found a support system in your sisters. That is a beautiful thing and something to be admired. You asked about Willow, and to answer, she has been with me for one hundred and fifty-seven years. Smoke hounds rarely make it past one-hundred and fifty. She has exceeded my expectations year after year since the day she was born. Her mother wandered off during a winter storm to give birth. When I went out to the den to check on her the next morning, I saw the trail of blood in the snow. I followed it straight to where she had curled up under a low tree branch and found all the puppies dead. All but Willow. The brave girl started barking at me to protect her falled family. She even bit me as I picked her up to tuck into my cloak. She warmed up to me as soon as we were inside by the fireplace. She has been my shadow since then. No longer hunting with me, but lays at my feet in my office and sleeps at the foot of my bed. If the maids have ever noticed the hair she’s left behind, they havent told anyone. Somehow, she knows that when we are outside of my bedchambers, I have to wear a mask of annoyance and indiffernece to her. She has never taken it personally and never loved me any less. I dread the day I lose her, my dearest friend.

Yours,

Eris

Y/n’s POV

Weeks pass in a blur while Y/n and Eris exchange letters daily, each of them still going about their regular duties and responsibilies. Y/n, continuing her training with Cassian and Azriel, strengthening her magic with Rhysand, and furthering her education of Prythian’s history with Amren. She also found plenty of time to spend time with Nesta at the House of Wind, occasionally Eris’ letters found her there and she could talk to her oldest sister about their growing relationship, giggling like a little girl. Y/n had never been in love before, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it felt a little something like this.

While she trained and learned, the rest of the Inner Cirlce was preparing for a High Lord’s meeting that would be cunducted in the Dawn Court. It would be the first time Feyre and Rhys would see Tamlin since Hibern, and Tarquin since they betrayed him. It would also be Y/n’s first time seeing Eris. And though she knew they would likely not even be able to make eye contact more than once, she was giddy at the chance to be in the same room as him.

They would be leaving in the morning for Dawn, and Y/n couldn’t sleep. So she sent a letter to Eris.

Dearest Eris,

I fear I can not sleep, for my body is alight with excitement. Excitement to see a new court, yes… but truthfully, the root of my excitement is getting to see you. Even if we cant be as close as I wish for us to be, I look forward to catching your burning gaze once or twice. Promise you’ll space me a glace?

Yours,

Y/n

My Dove,

I promise. I must tell you that it will be quite the struggle not to stare at you for the entirety of the meeting. My soul calls to yours and I fear being in such close proximity will test my strength greatly. If you would allow me such a gift, I would like to meet you after the meeting. Long after everyone has gone to their own chambers, I would desperately like to meet you in the hallway. Hold your gentle, caloused hands, stare into your captivating eyes, and take in your intoxicating scent. I’m willing to beg for it.

Wholly yours,

Eris

Dearest Eris,

I eagly await tomorrow’s arrival.

Yours,

Y/n

Y/n hardly slept a wink the rest of that night and was startled awake by Cassian banging on her door.

“Y/n!! Wake up! Everyone’s ready to winnow out of here and you’re holding us up!”

“Coming!!” Luckily, Feyre had already helped her pack and set out a dress for the meeting. The Dawn Court was warmer than Night, but not as hot as Day. The dress they selected had long sleves but was made of a gossimer type fabric that flowed around her as she rushed around the room getting herself together. They allowed her to stay out of the shades of black that this court is known for, and instead she dawned a dress of greys and whites. Like a cloud of smoke. Dainty red flats aroned her feet, swallowed by the skirt of the gown. Her own secret piece of Eris.

Y/n ran down the hallway and slid ot a halt, tossing her gab at Rhys. “Catch!”

Rhys opened a portal to the pocket dimension inches away from his face where the bag was aimed. “Nice try Y/n. Your aim is improving.” Patting her on her shoulder and smiling at her with a small gimler of pride. “Ready to go?” Rhys raked his eyes around the room and with a nod from everyone, they partnered up and winnowed to the Dawn Court.

Dawn was stunning. Y/n had expected nothing less. She had asked Amren all about it during their history lessons, and Eris of what he knew of it through their letters. The tall ceilings and elegant art work hanging from the walls had her in a state of awe. That awe multiplied ten-fold when Eris walked in with his court. His father entered first, not bothering to look at anyone other than the other High Lords essembled. Eris was right behind him, wearing a calm, bored expression. His brothers entered next, all wearing sneers and sinister grins looking right to the inner circle. Their father didn’t bother to check them. But Eris did. A step behind his father, Eris murmered, “Enough,” and his younger brothers fell into line. All three of them. Eris kept his promise, and spared Y/n a glance. His eyes softened and those pools of molten gold swept her away. Suddenly and without warning, her heart stopped beating and a golden thread was pulled tight between them. His eyes widened inperceptibly as that golden thread snaped.

Mate.

The rest of the meeting was a disaster and no real consesus was drawn. Everyone decided to reconvene the next morning and Thesan was kind enough to house them all for the night. Y/n and Eris had somehow managed to wordlessly decide to put up a glamour to hind the scent of the mating bond, and they hardly made eye contact. The only times they did were when Eris let a tiny bit of fear slip down the bond whenever Baron started to get riled up. It took all of Y/n’s power to stay still when Azriel lunged across the table to attack him. Eris had called Mor a slut, so Y/n couldn’t say she was surprised, but she wished he didn’t have to make it so hard to prove to people that he was a good male.

After much deliberation with the inner circle back in their wing of the castle, Rhys finally sent everyone to bed. Y/n made the excuse that she was going to make more tea before going, and with hugs from Feyre and Rhys, and bids goodnight from Mor, Az and Cassian, Y/n was finally alone. She was serious about the tea, and when it was thoroghly steeped, she grabbed the two mugs and used her magic to create air cushions to silnce her foot steps and padded down the grand hallway. Out of her formal gown, Y/n wore a chocolate brown sweater and loose grey pants. The pants were so long, they once again covered up her little red slippers.

When she reached the private garden for this wing of the castle, she sat down on the edge of the fountain to wait for Eris. Her mate.

Eris’ POV

Baron was snoring almost as soon as they reached their wing of the elaborate castle. It was his brothers that he had to wait out. When they had their fill of the liqour Thesan had left in the rooms, they went to their bedchambers to sleep it off. As Eris was sneaking toward the door that would lead him to the rest of the castle’s hallways, his mother stepped in front of him. “Where are you going my dear?’

“Mother, I have to go, I will explain later. Please, excuse me-“

“Are you going to see her? The one you’ve been exchanging letters with?”

“How-“

“Eris, my darling boy, what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t notice my own son was in love?”

“She’s my mate, mother.” Eris’ voice was barely audible, and the crack in it made a tear roll down the Lady of Autumn’s cheek.

“My love, I am so happy for you. Go to her. Tell me everything when we are home and safe from unwanted ears.” She cupped her son’s cheek and gave him a quick kiss to the other before turning away and walking back toward her own room.

Eris let out a shaky breath and went out the door. Once he was standing in the hall, he opened his side of the bond. He sent cautious optomism down it that was returned with reasurance and hope. He followed that tug all through the winding halls until he was stood before the gateway to the garden.

He saw her before she saw him, and he took the moment to appreciate her in this place. No longer dolled up, but comfortable in her too-large sweater. And with her leg propped up on the bench, her chin resting on her knee, he could see the firey red slippers she had on. That alone made a stream of love shoot down the bond involuntarily, and Y/n gasped as she looked up to see him standing just on the otherside of the gate. The love that came back to him just about made his knees buckle.

Wasting no more time, he threw the gate open and took quick long strides until he was towering over her. Slowly, Y/n stood to close the distance between them. They were so close that with every breath, their chests touched. Tentatively, slowly, Y/n moved her hands to hold his, and brought each of them to her lips to kiss the tops of them. Eris wasn’t breathing. And it wasn’t Y/n magic that stole the air from his lungs, it was just her. Using all his strength, he looked her in the eyes and saw his own soul mirrored in hers.

“Hello, my dove.” Eris spoke just above a whisper.

“Hello, my mate.” Y/n eyes shone with hope and awe, but the slight furrow in her brows gave away her confusion.

“Mate.” Eris blew out a breath and said, “I am sorry it had to be me.”

The wrinkle between her brows deepened. “Don’t do that. Don’t say that.”

Eris smiled slightly, “It’s true, my dear. You’ve been cursed. Must have to do with the whole ‘cauldron made’ thing.”

“Eris, I am not sorry. I wanted it to be you so badly. You are the only thing that makes sense in this new body, in this new world. I want it to be you.”

“You don’t mean that.” Eris tried to stop the self-depricating thoughts that flooded his mind, but he couldn’t get a grip on them. He was wrong and wicked and bad. And she was so good and kind and beautiful. The Mother made a mistake and he had to protect this delicate female before him or this world, he, would ruin her.

Y/n let go of his hands and he thought he might die. But then she moved them to cradle his jaw in her small, cold hands, and his mind went silent. The world seemed to stand still as she forced his eyes to meet hers once again.

“I want you. I want to continue to lay my soul bare to you and for you to do the same. That is all I am asking. Let me decide. I have been able to decide so little in my life, so please do not take that from me. If you decide for me that you are not worthy, I do not think I could bare it. I think this is the closest I’ve ever come to being in love and now that this- this bond has snapped, I can hardly stand being two feet away from you. I feel as though there is one too many of us; the seperation into two bodies is unbareable.”

Eris reached his right hand to cup her cheek, and the left to wipe away the stray tears that fell down her lovely face.

“I only understand your feelings because I feel them too, but I can not understand how I could ever be deserving of such a mate. I am quite choked with tenderness for you, my love, it makes me a bit pathetic to love you so much. What a privilege it is to matter to you. My mate.” Bless the bond for not allowing him to think for a minute that her feelings were not true. He could feel her senserity and it was now her turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I never, in my 500 years, thought that I would have a mate. I was resigned to the fact that one day, my father would find some poor female to wed me to and we would live a sad, lonely life together. To have found you now, after all these years, Y/n, you don’t understand what a gift you are. A bright light in a very dark, long tunnel.”

“Eris?”

“Yes, dove?”

“Will- will you kiss me please?”

He wasted no time. The kiss started passionate and heated and desperate. Grabbing each other’s faces and clothes, trying to clawl into the same skin. But slowly, the kissed turned gentle and loving and kind. The kind of kiss that two people who have spent a lifetime together share. A kiss of knowing and familiarity, because after all, they are two halves of the same coin.

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