Tumgik
#eris vanserra x reader
azsazz · 3 days
Text
Hide
Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader
Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1,217
Notes: Love this tbh!!!
_________________________________________
You feel him before you see him. 
You can feel him all the time; even when he’s courts away there’s that connection humming blissfully in your chest. It’s comforting, to know that your mate is alive and well, that there’s a surety you’re aware of him and how he’s feeling. When he’s content in a warm bath with a glass of fae wine smoothing the creases between his brows. When he’s squaring his shoulders and surging with pride for the sparring with his brothers he has won again. When he sends a warmth so suggestive down the bond late at night when he’s sure there’s no one around. The very one you feel deep in your soul, that makes your core melt like his fire-filled hands are working your center. The one that leaves no questions whether he loves you or not.
Of course, there are times when you can’t feel him. When he’s blocked the bond from ever reaching you when his father brings his wrath down on him like he’s young and defenseless again. He always hides that from you. When the distance from you becomes too great and there is no choice for him but to block the bond because he knows that there is nothing that can be done in the current state of Pythian. No way for the both of you to be together, no way for him to seize you from the control of your older brother. If you were lesser than the High Lord’s younger sister, he’d sneak across the border lines on a whisper of autumn winds and find his way into your bed. 
It’s been ages since you’ve seen your mate, since you looked into those warm russet eyes, ran your fingers through his auburn hair, counted the freckles dotting the pale skin of his cheeks. 
Your breath catches in your throat as Eris is escorted into Rhysand’s office and your eyes meet. 
A sense of relief floods the bond as his eyes move over you in an intentional sweep that to everyone else in the room looks like he’s wondering why you’re here, but you know your mate is assessing you for injuries even though you’re nowhere near injured. Not even a scratch or a bruise on your perfect skin. 
No one notices the slight falter in his steps. All Eris wants to do is rush over to you and sweep you in his arms and press you into his chest, feel your heartbeat against his own. He wants to taste that smile you’re trying all too hard to hide from him, move his mouth across the color dusting your cheeks to feel his fire dancing underneath your skin. He wants to strip you bare, devour every inch of you. He wants to hear you scream his name, whisper that you love him, cry for him to take you away, admit that you never want to be apart—
But he’s not even allowed to sit next to you. 
Across the large table is as close as he allows himself to get. It’s not close enough that he can accidentally kick his foot against yours and he doesn’t like that you’ve been meticulously placed on the opposite side so he can’t even walk past you and brush his fingers against your hand or the back of your neck. 
His bond keens in his chest and he tries his best to stifle it, ripping his gaze away when he’s drawn to you like this. 
Eris is flanked by Cassian and Azriel, and even though he feels as if he’s on the best terms he’s ever been with the Night Court, this feels like a set up. A trap.
You allow a caress of reassurance down the bond to your mate. Your brother doesn’t know, no one in this room, in this court, in this continent knows of your connection to the heir of Autumn. Eris’ throat works as he swallows, and you turn your attention away from him as he sends a feeling of understanding back to you.
“Eris.” Rhysand gestures to the autumn born royal to sit. He’s lounging in his own chair at the circular table, an arrogance to him that irks you. It’s all a front, of course, one Rhysand has carefully crafted to perfection from centuries as High Lord. You don’t like that it’s directed at your mate, and you’re feeling more protective than ever, flickering a glance over to the males sitting on either side of your mate, as if they’re caging him in.
Not unusual for an untrusted male in your court. You’ve seen your brother pull this same maneuver more times than you can count, but there’s a charge to the air that feels different. Your spine lengthens and you flare a warning down the bond, praying your mate doesn’t react but readies himself. 
He follows your heed with unfaltering trust. Eris’ fingers flex where they’re resting on the arms of his chair, and you watch him unhinge his jaw only slightly, so that he doesn’t flex it. The scalding look on his face stays directed at your brother.
Your lips part and the muscles of your legs tense, ready to jump out of your chair in the next moment, when you catch Rhysand’s smirk, the one that spells trouble. His violet eyes are dark with the promise of violence and his shadows are quick to strike, tendrils of nightmares winding their way around Eris’ wrists, trapping him to the very chair he was offered.
Eris shifts his hands in a nonchalant motion, testing out the strength of the sentient darkness Rhysand uses to hold him hostage. They don’t give an inch and he wonders for a fleeting moment if he can burn them away. If your worry wasn’t heavy in his chest, the beat of your heart spiking double, he would try it. But with you here, he’s not willing to try anything that could potentially put you in danger.
Plus, a part of him wants to hear what Rhysand has to say. The other part of him wants to get you the fuck out of here.
The High Lord of the Night Court plants his hands on the table. High Lord, because there is no ounce of your brother in his eyes and actions right now.
The chair scraping against the floor as Rhysand stands is the only sound in the room. Cassian nor Azriel moves from their seats, but they pin your mate with the menacing kind of looks that mirror Rhysands, ready to follow his every demand, no questions asked. 
“Eris,” Rhysand’s voice is not its usual purr as he leans forward. A strand of hair falling across his forehead is the only sign of the crack in his facade, the utter rage filling the room with an unbearable tautness.
The words are sticky in your throat. You can’t move, can’t seem to take your eyes off of your brother as your heart splinters in your chest like it’s his own shadows tearing you to strips. You’re only able to manage a quiet, “Don’t,” that’s filled with too much desperation.
Rhysand ignores your words. He hisses at Eris, dark and low. “How long have you and my sister been keeping this little mating bond of yours a secret?”
548 notes · View notes
parkerslatte · 3 days
Text
Overlooked
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Eris Vanserra x Fem!Archeron!Reader
Warnings: smut. feeling left out. mentions of torture. inner circle being idiots.
Summary: For her whole life, Y/N Archeron had always been overlooked by her family. She was the eldest yet her mother only focussed on Nesta and her father was always with Elain. Though Y/N still had her younger sister, Feyre. But when Feyre is taken into the Spring Court, everything changes.
After being turned into High Fae, Y/N struggles to adjust to her new life. But no one ever comes to help her. For the most part, Y/N is alone and left to deal with everything by herself. When the Inner Circle is invited to Eris Vanserra’s coronation, Y/N attends with them and the moment her eyes meet the new High Lord’s, a mating bond snaps into place.
Eris offers Y/N and place to stay and the love and friendship she never had growing up. Together they heal from the hardships they grew up in and Y/N eventually finds her place in the world, with her mate by her side.
Word Count: 20,287
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
Contents:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Epilogue
Tumblr media
A/N: I decided to make Overlooked its own Masterlist so I could organise my main ACOTAR Masterlist a little better!
345 notes · View notes
milswrites · 2 days
Text
The embers that remain
~ Eris Vanserra X Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: Eris tells you some unwanted news.
Warnings: angst, angst and more angst.
Notes: Gotta keep these break up fics flowing.
It started with the wavering touches. The way Eris’s usually firm hands now hesitantly hovered over your body, afraid to close the space between you.
Then it was the way he couldn’t quite look you in the eyes. His amber eyes always opting to stare elsewhere whenever he was in your presence.
The final straw was the stale turn your conversations had taken. The fact that no matter how hard you tried to pull answers from the male he remained as silent as the grave.
But what bothered you the most was the guilt ridden expression which failed to leave his face. His permanently furrowed brows and drooping frown marring his once handsome features.
For a while you allowed him to get away with it, accepting the new sullen persona of which he had adopted. Though once the dark bags had begun to grow under his tired eyes and his cheekbones had sunken into his pale skin, you decided that enough was enough.
That whatever burden Eris had opted to try and carry on his own needed to be shared. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for the Autumn Prince and if needing to share the weight of his problems would enable him to feel better, then you would hold up entire mountains for the male you loved so dearly.
It took numerous attempts for you to stir him from his turbulent thoughts. Your concerned voice and comforting hand coaxing him from his fortified mind. Gently squeezing his knee until the clouds which fogged his whiskey eyes had dissipated, his smoky orbs still failing to meet your own even as they cleared.
“Please my love,” you hummed softly, kneeling before where he was sat, hands clasped on both his thighs, as you looked up at the dejected male, “Share your worries with me. You needn’t battle them alone Eris, not when you have me.”
Your comforting words drew his pained amber eyes to finally meet your warming ones. His brows knitting together in distress, Eris slowly shook his head at you, the Prince tried to deny your gracious offer of help.
Trying to encourage the male to open up you pressed on, “My love there is nothing you could say or do that would ever change my opinion of you. You’re hurting Eris, let me help you.”
You didn’t miss the flash of anger which briefly crossed his harrowed face, the twitching of his nose and slight lift of his lips into a snarl. But you felt no fear, somehow knowing the fury wasn’t directed at you.
“I’m here to listen Eris,” you urged him to speak, begging eyes wide as they searched across his gaunt face, “I could never judge you.”
“But you will!” he finally seethed, teeth slightly bared as his chest rattled which each breath he took. “You will judge me” he cried, his voice breaking as the words fell from his trembling lips.
“No Eris. . . I’d never. Whatever it is it’ll be ok, we can figure it out together” you reasoned giving his thigh another reassuring squeeze from where you were sat on the floor.
“No we won’t” he denied, head still shaking lowly, that cursed expression of grief never faltering from his troubled face.
It was a tense minute of silence before either of you spoke again, but then the source of Eris’s worries tumbled from his lips, “I am to be wed to a woman from one of the outlying cities before the next harvest.”
His words were a knife to the heart. Whilst there had always been the hovering prospect that Eris would have to do his duty to his court and marry another, the two of you had been so caught up in the blazing inferno of your love to ever allow the doubts of the possible reality to cross your minds.
“How long have you known this?” You ask in shock, trying your best to recall when Eris’s sudden change in attitude had began.
The Autumn Prince blanched at your question, clearly having known the answer for longer than he has let on.
“How long Eris?” You repeated solemnly, slipping your hands from where they were resting on his legs to instead consciously knit them together on your lap.
“Two. . .three months?” He shamefully mumbled, a gasp catching in your throat at the revelation of just how long he had kept this secret, “I wanted to wait to tell you. I hoped I didn’t have to at all, that I’d find a way out of it. That it’d never come to this.”
“So you thought you’d just hide it from me for three months? When were you going to tell me you were to be wed Eris, when you were halfway down the aisle?”
“I wanted to tell you” he defended weakly, drawing in another long, shaky breath, “But telling you makes it real and that reality I just couldn’t bear facing.”
“But here we are” you stated, eyes lining with watery tears.
“Here we are” Eris sighed in confirmation, quivering hand reaching out to clasp onto your own. The burning heat from his palm a painful reminder of the comforting heat he had provided you these long years you had spent together.
“So this is it?” You croaked, voice already hoarse from the flood of emotion that had overcome your senses.
“It doesn’t have to be,” he reasoned stubbornly, “we can work something out, see each other still. I can buy a house for you where we can meet.”
You turned your face from the male in disappointment, “I won’t be your dirty secret Eris. I can’t be. Your wife-” your voice cracked at the title, “your wife deserves you in your entirety. Deserves the chance to love you as deeply as I have been able to.”
Flames raged in Eris’s eyes at your refusal to fight, at the dismissive way you had already written of your relationship as a lost cause.
“I won’t love her, never. She’s not you, she never will be. She may be my wife but she’ll never have my heart, that will be yours forever” Eris cried, the heat he was emitting in his burning rage was enough to boil the crystalline tears which fell down his cheeks.
“I’ve always thought you’d make the most wonderful husband Eris,” you weeped opting not to tell him that you had always assumed you would be his bride, “I know you’ll treat her right. That you’d be a good husband. A good father.”
“But it’s not with you!” He sobbed, cursing the gods for the cruel fate he was handed. Losing his faith in the Mother for her misguided choices.
“I’ll always be grateful for the time we were allowed to share my love” you consoled, bringing your free hand to brush back the red locks which had fallen in front of his eyes, “we’ve had such wonderful adventures and I’ll treasure them forever. But. . .we’ve always known your duties would have to come first in the end. We both just chose to become blind to it.”
“We’ve still got time” he begged, leaning his head into your soothing palm, “there’s two months till harvest yet.”
“No my love” you answered, words cutting deeply into Eris’s heart, “That’s not fair. It’s already hard enough as it is. Take the time to move on from me, to ready yourself for another.”
“I’ll never move on, not completely” he promised, warm lips coming to meet your tender palm.
“You’re so strong my love. You will find happiness again” you assured him, confident eyes meeting his own broken gaze.
Eris wasn’t sure how even in the face of adversity you were able to tell the male exactly what he needed to hear. But he was certain that no other woman would ever hold a candle to the force of nature that was you. And as the flickering flame in his eyes dulled into a pitiful ember, Eris swore that he would never allow himself to forget you. That despite your orders to move on, his heart would belong to you in its entirety until the day his fire extinguished.
88 notes · View notes
illyrianbitch · 15 hours
Text
A House of Hunger — Series Masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Reader x Eris Vanserra
Summary: Every Autumn court citizen is hungry for something; beasts starved for influence, desperate for control, ravenous for power. Your tastes are no different—albeit a bit specific. It's a deep craving that boils in the pit of your stomach, hot and heavy, all consuming.
You’re hungry for revenge.
Overview: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, technically enmies to allies to lovers, angst, canon-typical violence, politics and deception, angst, eventual smut.
Tumblr media
[Coming soon...]
Tumblr media
posting this as i start prepping all my series! hoping itll give me the motivation to get them all started. lmk if you want to be on the tag list <3
23 notes · View notes
thehighladywrites · 21 hours
Text
who would you wanna kidnap, keep in your basement and make ur bf?
26 notes · View notes
serpentandlily · 2 months
Text
Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny III
Tumblr media
Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader
Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.
Warnings: none
a/n: hope you enjoy this one just as much as the others!
➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
Part III
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
“That was…weird,” Mor remarked.
You agreed. You had no idea what to make of Eris’s behavior. Feyre and Rhys seemed to be locked in a mental conversation, leaving the rest of you to silence. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. You didn’t want to create any problems for your sister but you also didn’t want to leave. 
“He had a point,” Rhys finally said before looking at you with those violet eyes that reminded you far too much of a certain pair of amber ones. They both held too many secrets. “But I don’t think Beron will prove to be much of a problem as long as we keep his focus on other things.”
Feyre nodded along. “Besides, what is Beron going to do about it, anyways? Short of killing us, there is nothing to be done.”
You felt a flicker of fear but pushed it down. Rhys was the most powerful High Lord. Surely he would defend you and your sister if it came down to it. Feyre was also powerful in her own right and could fight for herself but you…
“We won’t let any harm come to you,” Rhys promised, his voice softening. “And what did I say about keeping those mental shields up?”
You turned red and quickly slammed the gates to your mind closed. 
“I would like to stay,” you mumbled, sheepishly. “But I don’t want to cause problems.”
Mor waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Eris talks out of his ass most of the time. He probably just wanted to put us on edge. You being here is not a problem, doll.” 
You didn’t feel comforted in the slightest.
“Well, if that's settled,” Rhys said, standing up. “I believe it is time for us to make our way towards the meeting room.”
You let out a breath, trying to settle your nerves from Eris’s display. Feyre gave you a small smile, linking her arm through yours. “Don’t look so nervous. There’s going to be some friendly faces in the crowd.”
You nodded, still feeling anxious about the whole thing. Although you hardly considered Vassa and Jurian your friends, at least you were familiar with them. Unfortunately, you were also familiar enough with Lord Nolan and his son.
Feyre placed her other hand in Rhys’s extended elbow and the two of them led you out of the chambers and into the wide corridor. Your breaths were still shaky once your group got to the staircase that would lead you to the meeting room with the reflection pool. 
Feyre unwrapped her arm from yours and Azriel stepped forward instead. 
“Azriel is going to escort you in,” she explained. “If you feel nervous, just stay by his side. Okay?”
You gave her a small nod and let them lead the way forward. When your group finally reached the top of the staircase, you were a bit relieved to see that the Autumn Court wasn’t present yet. Your eyes darted around the room, landing on all the various High Lords and their entourages, trying to place them in their respective courts. 
“That right there is Tarquin,” Azriel whispered from beside you, following your eyesight. “High Lord of Summer.” 
“And him?”
“Kallias, High Lord of Winter. His wife and mate, Vivianne, is the female next to him.” 
“Another High Lady?”
“Not quite,” Azriel answered. He inclined his head towards a different group. “That’s Helion, High Lord of the Day Court.” 
The male he nodded to was quickly approaching your group, a serpentine smile on his face. Gods, you were still not quite used to how beautiful the fae were. Helion looked like a God in his own right. His eyes passed over your group until they landed on you and lingered for a second longer. 
You watched as he greeted Feyre, Rhysand and Mor before turning his head towards you and Azriel. 
“Shadowsinger,” he nearly purred, “Always happy to see you.”
Azriel didn’t smile, didn’t move. In fact, he shot the High Lord an exasperated look as if this flirtatious behavior was all too common. That didn’t stop you from blushing when the High Lord looked at you and smiled coyly. 
“And who might you be?”
He reached out a hand but before you could open your mouth, the High Lord was suddenly knocked to the side, stumbling over himself. 
“My apologies, High Lord,” Eris sneered at Helion. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stand in the middle of a walkway.” 
Eris strode away before Helion could even respond, his brothers trailing after him, glaring around the room. Your jaw nearly dropped at his audacity but you quickly schooled your face, watching Helion glare at their backs. He seemed to shake off the encounter quickly, his charming persona snapping back into place as your sister came up on your side.
“Helion,” she said, “this is my sister, Y/n. She’s here to help us discuss the peace treaty with the humans.” 
Your introduction with Helion was short lived as Thesan called for the start of the meeting now that everyone was here. The first half of the meeting was just with the fae before the human leaders were to be brought in. Since you were primarily there for the humans, your thoughts drifted away as the fae leaders began their discussions. 
Your eyes trailed over all the courts—taking interest in how different each fae looked depending on where they came from. But your gaze kept falling on one fae in particular. The red headed male sat behind his daunting father. He hadn’t once looked in your direction. Part of you was glad for it, because it would be embarrassing to be caught blatantly staring at him as you were. Another part of you longed for him to look your way… You had no idea where that feeling came from. 
Eris was dressed far more formally than he had been the last two times you had seen him. He wore a dark green vest stitched with golden thread, tiny leaves embroidered along the seams, on top of a cream button up. A golden fox brooch was pinned at the neck of his collar, probably the Vanserra family’s emblem. His pants were an even darker green, almost appearing black and neatly tucked into his boots. Around his shoulders was a matching green cape coat embellished in gold detailing much like his vest. 
His red hair looked like a raging fire next to all the green, his pale skin glistening in the soft lighting of the room. He was so distractingly beautiful, even with that familiar haughty smirk on his face. It didn’t matter that there were far more powerful, commanding fae in the room. Your eyes could not keep off him. 
Like a moth to flame. 
Eris’s honey amber eyes finally met yours and you felt something snapped inside of you. You gasped as a golden thread unraveled within you and shot out across the room—all the way to the male seated across from you….all the way to Eris. 
Mate.
The word clanged through your head, drowning all other thoughts.
Mate.
Eris was your mate. 
In your shock, you missed the warning look Eris shot your way. You gasped, loudly, drawing the attention of the room as you stood so suddenly, your chair was knocked to the ground behind you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that golden thread thrumming with sparks of flame.
Your sister quickly rose from her seat, placing a hand on your upper arm to steady you. Azriel too had jumped up, his hand ghosting over Truth-teller, as if ready for whatever invisible threat was occuring.
Eris stood abruptly, almost panting. Your eyes never left those amber ones. Not even as they seemed to plead with you to sit, to hide, to disappear from this room entirely. 
“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, her voice hurried and filled with concern. Her eyes followed your line of sight and darted back to you and down to the hand you held to your chest. 
Rhysand seemed to catch on to what was happening quicker. 
“Azriel, get her out of here,” he ordered the shadowsinger. 
A scarred hand wrapped around yours and a second later, you were engulfed in a wave of shadows.
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
“Rhysand,” Thesan said, “Please answer for that display. What antics have occurred in your court to disrupt such a meeting?” 
Feyre’s hands were shaking as Rhysand latched onto them, guiding her back to her chair softly. “Apologies, Y/n is still a bit sensitive to magic since coming out of the cauldron. You’ll have to forgive her sudden departure.” 
“And here I thought you had moved on from your lying and deceiving ways, Rhysand,” Beron jumped in, his voice filled with wicked amusement. “It appears a congratulation is in order.” He turned to face his son. “It seems to me that a mating bond has just snapped into place.” 
Eris’s face was unreadable as he sat back down, fists clenched at his sides. 
“Explain yourselves,” Tarquin interjected, looking bemused. “How do you have another Made female in your court, Rhysand?”
“She is my sister,” Feyre declared. “And she was there the day Hybern forced all of them into the cauldron.”
“Why was she not included in the reports from that day?” Thesan asked, sitting up straighter.
“She was under our protection,” Rhysand answered. “She was hardly more than a child at the time.” 
“Liar. She never came out of the cauldron,” Tamlin said, sharply, eyes narrowing. “Your reports never included her because she never came out of the cauldron that day.”
“Well, considering you all just saw her alive and in person,” Rhysand shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his coat. “Obviously, she did. Perhaps your head was too far up Hybern’s ass to see.”
Tamlin growled but was cut off by Beron. 
“Where have you taken my son’s mate?” Beron demanded. 
“That is none of your concern.”
“Rhysand, you cannot possibly keep her away from her mate,” Thesan said. “He is entitled—”
“He is entitled to nothing,” Feyre snapped. “The Night Court does not force females to accept mating bonds. As she falls under our jurisdiction, she has our full protection against any of your antiquated beliefs.” 
“Leave it to the Night Court to spit on traditions,” Beron hissed. “A mating bond works both ways. As the other half falls under my jurisdiction, my son has all the right to invoke a blood duel if you wish to keep her from him.” 
The Lady of Autumn looked alarmed at her husband’s words but said nothing. Neither did Eris, who seemed to be choosing his next moves very carefully. 
“Wouldn’t be the first time the Night Court stole a female away,” Tamlin said, sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 
“Oh please, spare us from revisiting your despair,” Helion chuckled, humorlessly. 
“Have we all forgotten why we are here today?” Kallias cut in, his tone cold. “Must we argue over something that does not involve the rest of our courts? This meeting has already been derailed and some of us have better things to do with our time then listen to squabbles.” 
“This is not over, Rhysand,” Beron hissed. Eris still sat stoically behind his father, not faltering in the slightest. “You and I have much to discuss after we deal with the humans lest you wish to start a conflict between our courts.” 
“Fine,” Rhysand growled. “But prepare yourself and your son for disappointment.” 
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
You paced in the sitting room in the River House, your heart still beating rapidly, your thoughts out of control. A mating bond. A godsdamn mating bond had snapped between you and Eris of all people. Eris, the male whose reputation followed him like darkened clouds. Eris, the male who had left Mor to die in the woods all those years ago. Eris, the Heir of Autumn, the son of one of the most ruthless fae in all of Prythian. 
Surely it was a mistake. It had to be. 
“Why don’t you sit down?” Elain suggested, gently, patting the cushion beside her on the couch. “Feyre will get it all sorted out. You needn’t worry so much.” 
“How can I not worry? How can I not worry when Eris of all people is my mate, Elain?” You rubbed at your chest, already feeling an emptiness there now that you had been separated from him. “This must be a mistake. A trick, perhaps?” 
“Perhaps,” Elain agreed, though she didn’t sound like she believed it for one second. “But there’s not much you can do about it now. Not until they return from the meeting.” 
You let out a long breath and plopped onto the couch next to her. Elain brushed a hand through your hair, guiding you to lay down on her lap. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. A mating bond isn’t the end of all things. Feyre would never let that male get his hands on you.” 
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Some part of you wanted that male. Not the Eris that the others saw. But the one you had seen in those secret moments between the two of you. The alluring fox behind the mask. 
Your heart sang for him now that the mating bond had snapped into place. He hadn’t seemed surprised in the slightest….like he had already known about it. Had it snapped for him? Had he known this whole time that you were his mate? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Maybe…
maybe he didn’t want you…
Hours went by. The whole night passed. You didn’t stray from the couch, neither did Elain. You appreciated your sister comforting you. You wished Nesta wasn’t on her mating vacation and was here to help you as well…maybe she would know what to do.
The door to the house opening had you sitting up, rubbing at your red rimmed eyes. Elain woke abruptly as well, wiping the drool that was dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Feyre, Rhysand and Mor strode in, all looking just as exhausted as you.
“Well, I’m glad that shitshow is over,” Mor said, falling on one of the settees dramatically. 
A second later, Amren and Azriel came into the room, both wearing unreadable expressions. Amren’s silver eyes studied you for a moment before moving to Feyre and Rhysand.
“How’d it go?”
“Awful,” Rhysand sighed. “No one could come to an agreement.”
“Did the humans not want to sign?” You asked, purposefully avoiding the other topic. 
Feyre shook her head. “No, they were…even less receptive than we thought they’d be.” 
“What happens now?” Elain asked.
“We go through that again and again, I suppose,” Rhys answered. “Until a peace treaty is signed.” 
The room fell into a heavy silence until you broke it, minutes later.
“And…and what of…” You trailed off, unable to say the words, unable to ask about the male that had been on your mind since you had been whisked away from the meeting. 
“Beron will be visiting the Court of Nightmares tomorrow,” Rhys said, hesitantly, gauging your emotions. “To discuss what is to be done. It is unfortunate that he knows about the bond now because there is little Eris can do as long as his father is in power.”
“He can finally kill the bastard,” Mor grumbled into a pillow. 
“We must tread carefully,” Amren said. “If Eris is forced to call for a blood duel against Rhysand, he will die and one of his brutish brothers will be next in line for the throne.” 
“What!” You exclaimed. “A blood duel? Would he…would he really do that? Fight Rhysand even if it means certain death?” 
Eris was powerful, sure. But he was still only an heir, not a full blown High Lord like Rhysand. He would be misted in seconds. Just that thought of it sent you into a panic.
“I’ll fight him in your place,” Azriel said, darkly, looking at Rhys but he shook his head.
“We cannot risk that,” Rhys said. 
“Do you really think Beron would have his own son fight and die in a blood duel?” Feyre asked. 
“Of course he would. One less person he has to keep off his throne,” Amren said.
“He’s a monster,” Elain whispered, staring at you with concern. 
“Yes, he is,” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So we must do as Amren said and tread very carefully.” 
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
The next day, you stood in the foyer of the River House, dressed in a simple dark blue, silk dress. Your stomach was tossing and turning with nerves, scared of what would happen during this meeting with Beron. You hated that you were causing your sister and Rhysand so much stress, hated that you were in the middle of this conflict. 
You wished you could turn back time. Wished you could go back to that moment the mating bond snapped so you could hide the realization better. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve and it had finally bit you in the ass. 
You had no idea how today was going to play out.
You were certain of one thing, though. You ached to see Eris again. The mating bond had nearly kept you up all night. Feyre had tried teaching you how to block if off, but it was hard. Eris seemed to have no problem keeping his side of the bond locked down. It infuriated you to know he was probably feeling every single emotion from you. 
“Are you ready?” Rhys asked as Feyre, Mor and Azriel slid into view. 
Rhys and Feyre were dressed like they always were when making trips to Hewn City. Mor wore a scandalous red dress that clung to her beautiful curves and Azriel wore his Illyrian leathers, as per usual, all seven siphons on display. 
You nodded, unable to even speak.
The next hour seemed to happen while you were stuck in a daze. Rhys winnowed you all to Hewn City and led you into the throne room where everyone was waiting. Word must’ve spread quickly of what had occurred. Keir escorted Beron and Eris into the throne room after the formalities were done.
You couldn’t find the nerve to look at Eris now that you were in the same room. You had shown your hand during that meeting and had caused an avalanche to fall in its wake. You felt guilty, ashamed and scared…so scared. 
A dumb bunny, indeed. 
Rhys and Feyre led you all to a private meeting room, shutting the door in Keir’s face as he tried to join. You sat, hiding your shaking hands in your lap, keeping your eyes on the floor. 
“Well, I assume you have come to your senses by now,” Beron said, leaning back in his chair as if he commanded the room. “The girl comes with us. The Night Court owes Autumn a bride as it is.”
His glare focused on Mor for a moment and she scoffed in his direction. 
“Not so fast, Beron,” Rhysand tsked, pouring himself a glass of wine. “We don’t owe you anything. It was your court that ultimately broke the marriage agreement all those years ago.” 
Beron sat up with a sneer. “I believe it was broken the moment that girl decided to whore herself out to an Illyrian bastard of all people.”
You tensed in your seat, gripping the dress in your fists.
“Father, please,” Eris sighed, making you look up at him finally. 
Beron glanced at his son before turning back to Rhysand. “You should be overjoyed that we’re willing to take the girl as it is, considering the beasts in your court have probably ran through her already.”
“Watch your mouth,” Feyre snapped.
The smell of burning wood filled the room and Eris flexed his hands, new scorch marks on the table underneath them. “Don’t speak of her like that.”
Beron laughed. It was an awful sound. “Right, my apologies, son. Don’t worry, those mating instincts will go away once you’ve fucked her for a near century.”
Your face turned bright red at the crude words. Eris growled. The sound was so primitive, so animalistic. It sent chills down your spine. Even Beron looked unnerved for a moment.
“You are not winning yourself any favors,” Rhysand purred, smirking at the older male. “Have you any dignity?”
“Have you?” Beron bit back. “You all but spit on the face of the Mother by keeping her away from her mate. This is more of a blessing for you then it is us. A marriage alliance with Autumn, one you do not deserve that we are graciously offering.”
“Let me make myself clear, Beron, since you refuse to listen,” Rhysand snapped. “Our court has no laws that require a female to accept a bond. You would really go to war over something like this? While our courts are still recovering from the last one?”
Rhys and Feyre had theorized that Beron was so adamant about forcing you into the bond not because he cared for his son, but for two other reasons. One, you were Made. They had all seen how powerful Nesta was because of it and Beron craved power above all else.
Two, it was another way to keep Eris in check. To dangle you over his head as a threat. 
“Perhaps we should ask what she wants,” Mor interjected.
“What she wants does not matter,” Beron snarled. “She is mated to an Autumn male, by our laws she must accept.”
“She is a resident of our court,” Feyre argued back. “She does not have to accept it.”
“Then you leave us no choice,” Beron said, rising from his seat. He planted his palms on the table, staring at you all of a sudden. You crumbled into yourself. “Is that what you want, girl? You want us to declare a blood duel against your family?”
You shook your head as Rhysand stood, slamming his own hands on the table. “You would have your son fight in a blood duel against me, a High Lord?”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be against you,” Beron laughed, cruelly. His eyes fell on Feyre. “And it wouldn’t be my son. I will demand a blood duel against your mate. A mate for a mate. Very fitting, don’t you agree?”
Feyre versus Beron…. That bastard had planned this. You’d all been so concerned with Eris declaring a blood duel you didn’t even realize this would be a way Beron could kill Feyre as he wished in a legal way—as barbaric as it was.
And most of the other courts held the mating bond in such regard, you wondered if you’d find any allies against him for doing this beside Helion. 
Rhysand growled, darkness leaking off of him,
“And I will just fight you in her place.”
Beron smiled. “Oh, but you see, you can’t. Once a blood duel has been declared you either surrender to the terms or fight. I don’t know where you got your information from but there are no place holders allowed.” 
Your heart was racing in your chest. 
Silence fell so heavy in the room your ears were ringing. All of this was all your fault. You felt tears line your eyes. You couldn’t let Feyre fight for you. You wouldn’t. Even though she could probably hold her own against him, he was ages older than her—more battle worn. She’d be at a huge disadvantage.
And Eris couldn’t do anything about this, not if it was his father who wished to fight a blood duel. He couldn’t order his father not to. 
You couldn’t let her do this. You owed your life to her, you owed everything to her. It was time to start fighting your own battles. 
“I’ll go,” you whispered, so quietly you wondered if you had even said the words out loud. “I’ll go.”
Feyre’s head whipped to you. “No, absolutely not.”
But you shook your head. “I do not want anyone fighting on my behalf. I will go with them.”
Beron’s grin grew into one that could rival the devil himself.
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
“We will find a way out of this,” Feyre whispered into your ear as she hugged you. “I promise. Just hold out for us, okay? We’ll get you out of there.”
You nodded, pulling away to brush the tears off her cheek. You weren’t even going to be able to say goodbye to Elain and Nesta. Beron was demanding that you leave right away. 
“I’ll be okay, Fey,” you murmured to her. 
“Enough of the dramatics,” Beron called out. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Eris didn’t look at you as he held out a hand. You swallowed audibly and walked to his side, grasping it softly. You spared one last glance at your sister before you were winnowed out of Hewn City and into the den of foxes.
“Come here, girl,” Beron barked, now standing before his throne. “Let me get a look at you.”
You glanced at Eris but he just stood there, stoically, not meeting your gaze. You walked towards Beron, trying not to shake in fear. 
The older male grasped your chin in his hand, turning your face from side to side as he examined you. Eris’s other brothers stood at the bottom of the dais, their wolfish grins doing little to make you less nervous. The Lady of Autumn was seated in a small chair to the side of the throne, her eyes not lifting from the floor. 
“You look just like my other son’s mate,” he remarked. “Smaller, though. The runt of the family, I’m assuming. Pity. Were you not fed properly as a child?” 
You weren’t even sure how to reply to that. You decided not to respond and Beron’s eyes narrowed. 
“Hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of you. “Have you sullied yourself with those beasts?” 
“Father,” Eris growled, stepping up next to you. “That is enough.” 
Beron chuckled, mirthlessly, waving a dismissive hand. “Fine, take her away and get her out of those whorish clothes.”
Eris grabbed you by your upper arm and dragged you out of the throne room. You had to walk quickly, trying to keep up with his long legs as he led you down corridor after corridor. The Forest House was magnificent, beautiful. It was a shame that someone like Beron ran this court, you thought, as you studied the place. 
Eris finally stopped in front of a room, yanking the door open and pushing you inside. You glared at him as he slammed the door shut behind him, crossing your arms. You were inside of a huge suite, it seemed. A lavish sitting room, with two doors on either side, likely leading to a bedroom and bathing chamber. 
“These are my quarters,” Eris explained as he shrugged off his cape coat and tossed it on the red, velvet couch. He began to unbutton his vest as he faced you. “You are to stay here. Do not leave without an escort. Tomorrow, I will assign you two handmaidens to help you.” 
Your eyes widened. “I’m…I’m meant to stay here…in your room?” 
Eris let out a long sigh. “It is the safest place for you and I do not want to risk rumors.” 
“B-but surely this is improper,” you stuttered. “We are not properly mated.” 
Eris let out a cruel laugh. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t made such a spectacle at the High Lords’ meeting so don’t start complaining to me.” 
You felt a flare of anger. 
“You knew,” you grumbled. “You knew about the mating bond between us and you didn’t tell me! Perhaps if you had told me, I wouldn’t have even been in that room! I would’ve stayed home.” 
“Unlikely,” Eris sneered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a bar cart behind the couch. He chugged the drink down, loosening his collar with his other hand. “You don’t seem to have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, bunny. Did you ever stop to think about why I might be hiding it?”
“You are such a prick,” you snapped. “I am not one of your little pawns. I am not a part of your stupid games! You should have told me!”
You went to whirl around but Eris grabbed your wrist, dragging you closer to him. You glared up at him, ignoring the way his heat enveloped you in its embrace. 
“This is not a game to me,” Eris growled. “Have you any idea what you’ve cost me? Have you any idea what he will do to you if I so much as take a single step out of line now?”
You yanked your wrist out of his grip. “Have you any idea what this has cost me? I’m the one who's been forced out of my home—forced to come here!” 
“And who’s fault is that?” 
Eris slammed the empty glass down on the cart. 
“Gods, sorry I couldn’t read your oh-so-clever mind! Sorry I couldn’t act like an emotionless shell of a person like you!” 
“Watch how you speak to me,” Eris snarled. “I can make your life here a living hell, bunny.”
“I’m not scared of you, Eris,” you snapped. “You don’t fool me. I see the real you under that mask and you know what I think—I think it is you who is scared.”
Eris ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You know nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”
“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you! I know you do not wish to see your father in power much longer. Let me help!”
Eris grabbed your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. You hated how cold his amber eyes looked.
“No. Absolutely not. I will not involve you in the slightest,” he snarled before his eyes softened and his hand slipped to cup your cheek instead. “I cannot…I cannot bear to see this place make you cruel. Stay here, where you’ll be safe, bunny. Leave everything else to me. You were not made for this place. But me…You have no idea what kind of monster I can be.”
Eris’s hand dropped back to his side and he stepped away from you, heading towards the door. You were breathing so heavily, your lungs constricting your ribs against the dress you wore. 
“Can we talk about this? Please!”
He said nothing, reaching for the handle of the door. 
“Eris, please!”
His hand fell against the doorframe, flame licking at the wood—scorching it again. A growl rumbled through his chest and his head hung between his shoulders but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at you.
“Do not,” he groaned. “Do not say my name like that.” 
And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone. 
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
When you woke up later that night, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. You sat up, realizing you were laying in a bed. You were certain you had fallen asleep on the couch, not wanting to even go into Eris’s bedroom.
The silk, dark orange sheets next to you were undisturbed. You rubbed at your eyes, getting up from under the covers. You were still in the dress you had fallen asleep in.
You padded over to the door, opening it slowly. You took two steps into the sitting room before you froze in your spot. 
There, on the couch, was Eris. The fireplace was roaring in front of him as he slept, a lump on the floor by his feet. You blinked away the blurriness in your eyes to see what it was.
Ashera was curled up there, the dog you had met that day you had accidentally winnowed into the forest here. She slept soundly on the floor next to him. 
You stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door behind you, quietly, not wanting to disturb them. 
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
Tag list: @dwkfan @pinksmellslikelove @vellichor01 @whatdoyxumean @minnieoo @hnyclover @daughterofthemoons-stuff @ferrarisbitch @thaynarajejheje @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @the-sweet-psycho @sleepylunarwolf @homeslices @annblvd @historygeekqueen @crystalferret202 @meritxellao @st0rmyt @bruhhvv @venussdovess @naturakaashi @waves-against-a-cliff @justvibbinghere @queerqueenlynn @isa1b2h3 @oucereeng @hnyclover @locotreofthegods @namelesssav @edance2000 @lalaluch @saltedcoffeescotch @jangmi-latte
*If you asked to be on the taglist and you don't see your username, tumblr wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :(
1K notes · View notes
imxnotxhere · 4 months
Text
Acotar Men Fic Recs
** Updated 09/02/2024 **
I already made a list for azriel which was actually meant as a list for all the characters I read for but I read a lot more of azriel fics because he's my baby and the list was getting too long. So here are the rest of the characters and I also added some more azzy drabbles sorry
Azriel (drabbles)
@gothicbabydollz
az spitting in your mouth - smut
@princess-tulip-writes
az pleasuring his mate with truthteller - smut, big fan of truthteller
@fieldofdaisiies
azriel... - fluff, smut
azriel's hands - fluff, smut
Rhysand
@azsazz
dioxazine part 2 - fluff, smut, modern au, art school au
the lord's work - smut
if you should die before you wake - smut, rhys x cass x azriel x reader
just hold on - smut
a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series
double duty - smut, rhys x reader x cass
what's mine - smut, rhys x eris x reader
@tadpolesonalgae
mine - smut, check warnings!
knocked up - smut
vampire!rhysand drabble - smut
professor!rhys headcanons part 2 - smut
soothing - fluff, aftercare
@leafsandstarlight
easy like sunday morning - fluff, smut
@azrielbrainrot
my body keeps saying it's yours - smut
@writingsbychlo
home to us - fluff
rhys as a pleasure dom - smut - technically a drabble? blurb?
@azrielscrown
mirror mirror - smut
daylight - fluff
@acourtofwhatthefuck
shrinking violet - smut
@shadowdaddies
if i catch you i fuck you - smut
Cassian
@azsazz
mirror mirror - smut
take it - smut
a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series
@tadpolesonalgae
on the strategy board - smut
pools of sunlight - fluff
@leafsandstarlight
halley's comet - angst, smut
@princess-tulip-writes
drabble - smut - az x cass x reader
Eris
@acourtofmenandthirst
runaway - angst, smut
fox hunting - smut
closed until further notice - fluff, smut, coffee shop au
smut blurb
smut blurb II
@leafsandstarlight
destiny's battleground - angst, smut
my lovely throne - smut
despite our differences - angst, smut, series
the prince of blood part 2 part 3 - vampire!eris
@tadpolesonalgae
servitude - smut
thumb prints - smut
@serpentandlily
sly fox, dumb bunny - series
@azsazz
the burning of the autumn leaves and the roaring of my yearning heart - angst, smut
soul on fire - smut
a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series
@azrielbrainrot
fire on fire - angst?
@gothicbabydollz
riding eris' face - smut, drabble
riding eris' thigh - smut, drabble
@honeybeefae
cauldron fated - angst, smut
@princess-tulip-writes
making out with eris while giving him a handjob - smut, drabble
praise kink eris - smut, drabble
Lucien
@tadpolesonalgae
solecist night - smut
@acourtofwhatthefuck
yell at me again - smut
personal problem - smut
the moon on a string - fluff
@princess-tulip-writes
drabble - smut
drabble - smut, az x lucien x reader (kind of)
@gothicbabydollz
dom lucien - smut, human!reader
Helion
@leafsandstarlight
a high lord's scholar - fluff
@tadpolesonalgae
new mechanisms - smut
sweet like peaches - smut
2K notes · View notes
historiaxvanserra · 4 months
Text
These Violent Delights | An Eris Vanserra story
Summary: At a ball in Hewn City, you meet your match in Eris Vanserra
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)
Word Count: 7.6k
Previously called If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power. I changed the name to adapt if from a one shot into a series.
Tumblr media
You had been born on a night like this, you think. The storm-streaked clouds line the heavens like flowering hydrangeas as they dissolve into a black abyss and the moonlight shines like pearls on the water where the horizon meets the Sidra. 
Storm-streaked they had called you. 
When you were a little girl, your father had told you that you had come into this world in the same way as the old Gods had. Born from the merciless depths of some unknowable blue-darkness; cruel and beautiful, and fearless. 
Now fear is all you know. 
The crack of forked white lightening against the darkening horizon pushes you further into introspective thought. The visions come with the quiet; flashes of silver and gold and the icy embrace of the water. That infernal cauldron and what it had taken from. It haunts you, even in dreaming.  
Of late, the days seem to pass in a state of perpetual purgatory, marred by memories and the water– an unforgiving tempest that tears through you. 
The water cleanses but it also devastates. 
Your father had once called you water; the salt and the sea. 
You had always wondered what that meant. 
But here you stand-- a storm incarnate; volatile, half-wild and isolating. And who can become the water without inheriting its violence, or its loneliness?
The feeling of harsh violet eyes on you is enough to drag you gaze from your spot near the balcony and the storm as it rages outside. 
“Are you ready, Nesta?” Rhysand’s voice is velvet night as it reverberates around the small waiting room. 
A chill runs down your spine when you catch his eyes, glinting and violet in the dim light. You regard Nesta cooly as she tilts her chin upwards. 
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Nesta’s eyes are lined with kohl and looking at her is like looking into the eye of a storm.
She always had an austere kind of beauty that left you speechless. 
Rhysand only nods simply before taking Feyre’s arm and approaching the large doorway. Nesta and Elain fall into rank behind them with practiced ease. It is you who hovers awkwardly in the background for a moment before taking your place in the middle of the formation. A solitary figure amongst them. 
You swallow thickly and you catch the lingering scent of a night chilled mist as you bristle. A whisper of night wraps itself around you like a cold comfort. These days his scent seems to follow you like a shadow; though, you suppose when you’ve spent every night this week wrapped around him, trying to drown out your own thoughts, there is bound to be a trace of him that lingers there.
At last, the towering doors to the throne room yawned open. 
The throne room is lined with black candles and evergreen wreaths frame the doorway, and moonflowers climb up the high, onyx pillars like ivy. And on each side of the aisles there were two magnificent banquet tables, piled high with food enough to feed a city. Though it was not to be touched without express permission from the High Lord.
A ripple of dark power reverberates through the mountain as The High Lord and Lady enter the throne room. You swear you feel the mountain wail in their presence. It is a powerful thing and you feel something within yourself begin to stir with it. 
A cold rage as it makes a home in your chest. 
The courtiers pale as they approach, parting like the tide as their High Lord and High Lady brush through them, crowned in silver crystals and garbed in midnight black robes. 
Rhysand looks beautiful you think as your eyes find him in the procession-- he stands tall against you all, his hair perfectly quaffed and the rich scent of mandarin and night-blooming jasmine seems to follow him.
All that pales in comparison to Feyre; the dress she wears is like tangible shadow. Gossamer thin silk and tulle that glitters with flecks of silver starlight, all gathered about her waist with a thin belt that accentuates the swell of her stomach. 
The room beholds her with baited breath; a sense of awe and ire. 
She looks like the visage of some ancient Goddess of the moon; pale and beautiful in the silvery light. 
You sense a shift in the air as they approach the dias and Rhysand’s shoulders tense; he is a picture of male pride. There is a dangerous quality to it that chills you to the bone. A cold violence that feels almost kindred to you. Feyre’s full red lips part and she smiles until it seems to dampen Rhys’s anger as he reaches for her as they climb the steps of the onyx dias. 
Keir’s face is twisted in a half-grimace, somewhere between astonishment and anguish. Behind him the Eris Vanserra remains fixed in place, his face set in a painfully neutral expression as he regards the High Lord and Lady. 
Motion from behind you beckons you to move as Nesta and Elain fall into step with you and begin to pace the length of the aisle and approach the dias. 
All three of you are dressed in Night Court black. A symbol of your place amongst the royal family. A warning of the dark power which you all possessed. Stolen and gifted from that cauldron. A reminder of your value. It is a carefully rehearsed routine as Nesta takes her place between you both, the flare of her skirts bushing against the marble floor with each long stride. You and Elain flank her sides like two wraiths. 
Elain looks sallow in black, you think as you catch her eyes. A poor initiation of the coldness you wear so well etched onto her beautiful face and steely determination in her dark, rich eyes. 
Nesta outshines you all tonight-- her golden hair braided into a crown atop her head and a delicate crown glints in the lantern light, slender spikes jutting forward in a dark corona. Her wicked eyes glinted like cobalt in the light. She’s dressed all in black. The gown itself is skin tight and embroidered with intricate silver brocade, twisting vines and moonflowers adorn the velvet bodice, tracing the curve of her breasts and sinking low, to her navel where the silver thread gathers about a sapphire that matches the crystals on her crown. 
Nesta is a cruel beauty; enough to bring a God to his knees. 
And Cassian looks about ready to sink to his knees before her as you regard him on the dias. 
Nestas moves with a feline grace, expressive and smirking as she takes her place between Cassian and Elain on the platform. 
Feyre and Rhysand sink into their thrones with a measured grace and from your stop between Elain and Azriel you can see all the eyes in the room as they flit from one member of the Inner Circle to the next. 
But it is the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra that you meet in the gathering crowd. He offers you a courteous nod and the ghost of a smirk graces his full lips and you send a scathing look in his direction in return.
You hope he feels the bitter sting of your coldness as your eyes try to find anything else in the throne room to focus on. 
Azriel rolls on the balls of his feet as the silence settles in the room and he inches so close to you that you feel the scarred pads of his fingers brush the exposed skin of your back. 
“You look good in black,” his voice is impossibly quiet, almost inaudible as he dips low enough that he is speaking into the shell of your ear. 
A cold chill runs up the length of your spine.
“Thank you, Shadowsinger,” You say simply, a feral smile on your lips as you bare your teeth to him. 
A laugh sharp and cruel rings through you and Azriel’s hand tangles in the lengths of your hair tugging sharply. 
“You are most welcome,” Azriel agrees, his voice is like shadow and wind as it graces your ears “most welcome indeed.”
Azriel steps back into line as Rhysand stands to address the crowd. 
Your own spine straightens as though it is muscle memory by now. Obedience. To bend and break as the High Lord and Lady saw fit. 
Rhysand looks like Night Triumphant as he regards his uncle with a strange union of cruelty and cordiality. Recently Rhys and Feyre had softened slightly with the people of Hewn City. Keir in particular. They can’t afford to isolate him from court politics-- in case the need arises for his Darkbringers to fight again. Hence the fact Rhysand even abides his presence at all. Rhysand’s cruel gaze lingers just a touch too long though. A careful reminder of the fate he’ll earn if he ever decided to go against Rhys. 
It’s been months since you’ve been to Hewn City, longer since you involved yourself in court politics. Longer still, since any whispers of the Trove or Briallyn reached you. Though you aren’t naive enough to believe it is over. 
None of the Inner Circle are. 
That is why you find yourself in Hewn City tonight. Swathed in the sallow light, and painted like a pretty whore; all red lips and dark eyes, with trembling hands, wanting nothing more than to be back in that little cabin with your sisters by your side-- as you were when you were girls. 
Feyre rises to her feet to join Rhys and she addresses the crowd, “May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you.” 
The crowd seems to hum in acknowledgement and then they bow in a show of deference. 
Or blind obedience. 
Your eyes meet the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra once more, and it is you he looks at when he kneels. 
Keir slinks forward, offering your sister a low bow, “Allow me to extend my congratulations, High Lady.” His voice drips with false flattery as he dips his chin in a show of esteem. 
Eris Vanserra moves like a predator as he stalks forward, offering your sister a devastating, cultivated smile that feels almost authentic. “And allow me to extend my sincerest wishes, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.”
Rhysand’s mouth curls into a wicked half smile, his eyes darken to an amethyst color as she speaks “I’m sure your father will be most pleased for us.”
The implication that hands in the air is a dangerous one and you can feel the color drain from you at the terse exchange. A few more beast of silence and--
“Music,” The High Lord calls out and the orchestra from behind the mezzanine begins to play lightly, the sounds of lyres and harps ring through the air. 
Feyre once again addresses the crown, every inch the High Lady, “Go--eat--enjoy.” The crowd of silent courtiers disperse throughout the room as they aim to take their places at the tables. 
Each banquet table is piled high with an obscene amount of food and you find yourself feeling ashamed of the blatant opulence before you. When once you had nothing. Now you live without wanting. It makes you feel ashamed. How your old self would resent this wasteful indulgence. 
Turning away from the feasting courtiers you turn inwards towards the thrones on the dias. 
Now only Eris and Keir remain standing before the High Lord and Lady. You notice how neither of the men has deigned to acknowledge Morrigan’s presence behind the thrones. She looks ethereal and savage as she smirks down at them, her lips look as though they are stained wine red. 
Blood red, you think. 
The Illyrain’s at either side of you and your sisters look more like beasts carved into the dark stone of the mountain than anything else. Azriel and Cassian are clad in black armor, each adorned in ruby and sapphire to match their siphons that glow faintly in the low light. The brothers look as though they are the visage of some Gods of old; statuesque and hard-faced as they regard the Autumn Prince.
Cassian in particular looks like he might invoke some of that ancient power to stop Eris from dancing with Nesta tonight. He had not objected but, how could he? Rhys was his brother and his High Lord. Obedience is easier than the alternative. 
And the fate of The Night Court-- his home-- could rest on Eris’ alliance. So he will bite his tongue in the knowledge that what Eris offers is a chance at defeating Briallyn and Koschei. 
From your spot you watch the Autumn Prince with piqued curiosity. He will not stop looking at you and it is infuriating. 
It brings a cold anger bubbling to the skin's surface; all biting fury and icy violence. 
The conversation between Keir and Rhys seems to come to a natural end and the lull in the conversation has the whole room falling into silence, waiting for their next order. Like puppets.
And your sister the puppet master, pulling the strings as she commands, her voice like thunder at midnight, “Dance--”.
The courtiers like a midnight sea part and pair off in swathes of dark silk and velvet. Even Keir retreats into the crowd and pairs off with a dark haired female. 
Eris turns on his heels, the wrap of his riding boots against the floor echo through your head. 
“Before you join in the merriment, Eris,” Rhy’s voice is a velvet drawl as he presents a long black box, “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”
You swallow hard and step forward. Procuring the box from Rhysand you press forward, one long stride that brings you face to face with the Autumn Prince and for the first time you truly look at him. 
A night-kissed wind envelops the pair of you, enough to wrap behind Eris blocking the dias from view of the dancing courtiers. 
Eris Vanserra is devastating; he has a cruel sort of beauty, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones that look sharp enough to cut into you, but his eyes are soft and unwavering. He is a strange juxtaposition.
Eris arches a brow at Rhysand and you flip open the carved lid of the box. Eris stiffens, his voice low and dangerous. 
“What is this?” he asks, somewhere between disbelief and wariness. 
“A present,” Rhysand clarifies and you catch a glimpse of ruby and gold on the hilt of the dagger. 
You refrain from grimacing at the truth you are confronted with. Rhysand and your sister want to sell off Nesta like a broodmare and her Made weapons with her. 
A truly beautiful piece. And dangerous too. 
Like Eris, something in you calls.
Eris’ hand hovers over the open box and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“You sense its power, then?” Feyre asks voice dripping with a sense of smugness that does not suit her in the slightest. 
Eris nods carefully, his eyes flicking to the High Lord and Lady before finding yours again. 
“There’s flame in it,” he says, hand still hovering over the weapon. As if something in him senses its true power. He closes the lid abruptly. “Why give it to me?”
Feyre smiles lightly and shrugs, “You’re our ally.”
Feyre rests a protective hand over the swell of her stomach, “You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It’s only fair to grant you a weapon that operates outside of those rules too.”
You stand transfixed by the twitch of his jaw and the bob of his throat as he considers her words. 
“It is truly made then?” He asks, carefully. His eyes never leave yours and it is your voice that answers his question. 
“It is, My Lord.” your voice comes out all cold and gravelly, unlike yourself. 
Rhysand speaks again though the beating of your heart renders him almost mute, “From my personal collection. An heirloom of sorts.” 
“All this time,” Eris’ voice is dark and thoughtful, “ all these years you possessed a Made weapon and you kept it hidden.”
“Even during the war,” Eris says more to himself than anyone else. 
There is a dangerous sense of anger and skepticism in the air as Eris examines the weapon again, his hand once more runs over the length of the dagger, his fingers barely ghosting the cool metal. 
“Don’t take our generosity for granted,” Feyre offers in warning, her voice quiet and threatening. 
Eris stills and nods in acknowledgement. He extends a smile that looks courteous enough to be genuine and once more allows his finger to run over the smooth length of the blade. “Thank you,” 
“Might I leave it in your safekeeping while I dance, My Lady?” Eris’s voice seems distant and far away and it takes a moment for you to realize that he is speaking directly to you. 
You look at him coldly, unable to muster the warmth of genuine affection when he is looking at you like that. It is infuriating. That someone so cruel might also be so insufferably handsome. 
“Yes, My Lord.”
Feyre nods to Rhys and Eris in acknowledgement and against your better judgment you let your eyes linger over the graceful curve of his calves and up over the contours of his muscled thighs, all the way up over the broad expanse of his chest and finally becoming entangled in the unbound curls of copper hair as he sweeps it over his shoulder. 
Devilishly and devastatingly handsome. Sun-blood handsome. 
Feyre’s soft lilt brings you back to reality as she says “Use it well, Lord.” 
Your sister's smile curves into a soft smile at Eris and extends a hand to him, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me quite unwell.” Feyre makes a show of looking between the two sisters who stand in line with Cassian and Azriel. 
Elain, at least, has the good grace to give the impression of seeming interested. Nesta though looks bored. As though she is only half listening. As though they hadn’t just given away the dagger she’d Made. 
Perhaps it was the way that Nesta’s grey eyes had drifted away from the dancing sea of courtiers, or the forlorn look on Cassian’s face as he stood on the dias, but either way it made you realize something. That maybe the Illyrian General meant more to Nesta than she would ever let on. More than that dagger-- more than magic or power or court politics.  
Feyre notes the direction of Nesta’s stare and then looks between you and Eris. The corners of her lips twitch in nervous anticipation as her eyes settle on you. 
“My lovely sister shall take my place.” Feyre nods to you and for a moment you let the icy wrath in your stare settle over her before dipping your head to her. 
Eris’ throat bobs as you assess him with that same cold gaze. A slender hand takes the Made dagger from you and you hold out a hand to him. 
He extends a sculpted arm out to you, his large hand wrapping around you as you yield to him. His long, deft fingers brush against yours; his skin is warm to the touch and even in the pallid light it is clear and pale, with golden hues that compliment the warm depths of his eyes. Your chest grows taut and you feel emotion course through you with the force of a raging tempest. 
You loose a breathy gasp and for a moment you exist somewhere outside of yourself. You hear Eris’ voice, a warm, low timbre as he utters your name. He offers you his arm as you descend from your spot on the onyx dias. The sound of your slippers echo in the silent chamber. Eris’s face is set in a painfully neutral expression and you try your hardest to mirror it. Hoping he will not see the storm raging inside of you. You think of Nesta and the way she moves with such thoughtful grace and so you copy it; your chin tilted high and each step becomes a glide as you reach the edge of the marble dance floor. 
The eyes of the courtiers fall onto you. 
You feel the heat of Eris stare as it burns into the side of your face-- you feel a pair of violet eyes on you too. A cold chill spreads through you when his talons scrape dangerously and then you see him in your mind's eye. What a dangerous turn of events. 
Dangerous? You had never considered yourself as something dangerous. 
Nesta might have seduced Eris, but you will bring him to his knees. Rhysand’s cold tenor rattles around your mind and for a moment you see him standing at the precipice of a cliff as the storm rolls in, and the jagged rocks below look like the opening of a Helmouth. 
There is no doubt that Nesta is more beautiful. With a feline sort of beauty; long legs and a graceful neck, all angular and steely eyed. Nesta had inherited the aristocratic sort of beauty that your mother possessed. You had always been half-wild, unapproachable and--
Well, it is your mother’s voice that resounds in your head, of two sisters one is always the dancer and one the watcher. 
Tonight the roles reverse as you take your place in the middle of the dance floor. You will bring him to his knees. 
You catch Azriel’s eye as the instrumental music fades into momentary silence. From his spot on the dias he looks like a dark God; and he looks like he might just tear Eris to blood ribbons when his hand wraps around your waist. 
Eris brings you so close to him that you're pressed against him and as the harp begins to play, high and sweet, he smiles softly at you. As if the notes of music wrap around you, you raise your palm to his flat and open, an invitation if he has even seen one. 
The low stringed instruments usher in the music like a coming storm, a summons to the dance in a rushing of music, like water. You remind yourself to smile wickedly at Eris as he slides a broad hand over the curves and divots of your waist and hips. You lift your head high and, looking up into his perfect face you bare your teeth to him. All ruby red lips and pearls and he smiles so wickedly that you’re not sure who is supposed to be seducing who. 
Those strange amber eyes-- so haunting in the faelight. 
The harps and lyres sing so beautifully in the air and when the violins begin to play, it feels like a siren song in the air. A beckoning. As your body moves with the ebb and flow of the dancing tide. 
Eris leads you into the waltz, he moves with practiced ease. He knows every note, every trough and swell of the music, each nuance and note. 
Nesta would outdance you everytime. This you know. She moves like the music becomes her. And in so many ways it does. Her body bends to the will of the orchestral sound, and it bends to her too. 
So you will have to play it differently. 
The music sweeps you up in it’s tide, and as the music swells you decide to surrender yourself to the water. Let it wash all over you. Your body, once rigid and taut, goes pliant in Eris’ arms. You let the orchestral sound drown out your doubts and give yourself over to it. To him. His fingers ghost the line of your spine and he pushes you further still, against him. So close that you feel your heartbeat in tandem and your body bends to his will. 
It is easier to bend than to break. 
Better to relinquish control than have it taken from you. 
Eris’ eyes widen and soften then-- as if he feels it too-- you feel his hands loosen before tightening again around you. Somehow different now. Somehow, strangely, comforting. 
He moves with such grace and skill, his body reacts to every fluttering note and pause in the music. And the whole time his eyes are on you. And you can’t look away. The dark, warm depths of his eyes like a slow-burning fire that consumes all in its wake. 
You find the faces of your family in the crowd and you see that their normally composed demeanor seems to have shifted, their eyes wide and jaws slack as you move with the tide. 
Tonight you are the storm and the fire will bend to you. 
You will bring him to his knees, you think. As the music washes over you. 
Has there ever been such a haunting and mournful sound in all the world? Your name falling from Eris’mouth perhaps.
The snippets of the music Nesta had described to you, from her memory of the Veritas, paled in comparison. It flows and swims around you, filling you like water, and if you let it, it could be enough to drown you. To sink into the depths of the high-arching song. 
Eris smiles again when you fall into step with him so effortlessly, like you are an extension of him. 
One soul in two bodies.
His broad hand tightens over the flare of your hip, his fingers flexing before digging into the malleable flesh. The smile you give him feels much too vulnerable and genuine to bring you any sort of comfort. 
Eris' amber eyes shine with feral delight and you see yourself reflected in his eyes; you look like sin personified. The dark material of your dress gathers about your waist, held in place only by velvet ribbon and a few embroidered onyx crystals. The deep cut of the dress is so low that it bares the ample curve of your breasts and your strain to catch your breath because of how tight the dress has been laced. 
The person you see in Eris’eyes looks like the incarnation of some ancient deity; dark and cold, and cruel. And beautiful. 
Eris’ broad hand spreads across the middle of your back, pressed firm between your shoulder blades and you burn beneath him. As the music lulls and flutters his gaze locks onto yours and flame simmers in those dark topaz eyes and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. Cat-like and feral as he dips you low, supporting your weight in his arms. His face comes to hover over yours and you’re transfixed by his unyielding stare. 
Beautiful and haunting eyes.
One hand is wrapped around his neck and the other you bring to touch his cheek with the tenderness of someone who has never truly been touched. His face falters and something akin to raw vulnerability flashes in his eyes. 
Bring him to his knees.
In one swift movement Eris sweeps you so that you are standing upright, pressed so close to his chest that you feel each groove and divot of his sculpted chest. You place that same hand over his blazing heart and as the music filters into stunned silence, Eris eyes you with feral delight. 
For a moment, as the heaving in your chest subsides you allow yourself to remain in his tender grasp. His fingers ghosting the curve of you hip and the small of your back, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the skin there. 
The faces of the courtiers turn upon you. 
You, this once-human female, barely out of girlhood, who had been thrust into this world of dark power and politics. 
Who stood before them now, coloured in the murky green hues of Hewn City. 
Storm-streaked girl. 
It is like being born again and the mountain trembles in your wake. 
The eyes of your High Lord and Lady land on you and Eris at the foot of the dias. Rhysand rises in his seat and his violet eyes meet yours and something wicked and enchanting flashes in them. Feyre regards you with a wild smile and she laughs before tipping her head to you in acknowledgement. 
And in a show of secret defiance you plunge into the deepest curtsey you can manage; your chest still rising and falling with a dramatic flare, and your skirts pool around you like inky shadows as you sink low onto the marble. You dip your chin ever so slightly, never quite breaking eye contact with the cruel violet gaze that assesses you with a dangerous glint. 
A laugh of dark joy bursts from Eris beside you who in turn, offers his own small bow before capturing you again in his firm hold as the orchestra begins to play again. 
Your mother had always wanted a Prince for Nesta, and yet, here you were-- beautiful, cruel and merciless, with the Autumn Prince sinking into the cold depths of your eyes. 
Everyone who has ever loved you has underestimated you. But looking into Eris’ eyes you see something kindred to you. 
You will bring them all to their knees. 
Eris' amber eyes gleam with want as he takes you in again and you loose a shaky breath as he leads you into the next dance. 
The music is soft and light, the strings sing a song so aching and mournful that you feel once again overcome with it. All of your violent coldness, all that biting fury, rendered a useless ruse as the music becomes you. 
Eris might be the monster they all say he is, but looking at him now, in the soft light, you see something else. 
“Trust Rhysand to keep such a beautiful creature to himself.” Eris’ amber eyes study you carefully. 
You school your face to remain neutral, with just a touch of scorn as you bite back. 
“If beauty is all you can see, My Lord” You say, your voice dark and taunting, “I fear you have missed the point entirely.” 
“Intelligent too,” Eris chuckles darkly and wraps a wisp of your unbound hair around his forefinger, “and dangerous.”
You don’t deign to reply though Eris continues his assessment of you, his eyes trailing over you, afire with dark promise. 
“I’ve seen you before though,” Eris asks as he steps into the next part of the song, “haven’t I?”
His eyes narrow on you and you think back to the last time you saw Eris Vanserra. 
“At the High Lords meeting,” You say quietly, your voice thick with shame as you recall the meeting some months back. 
You had been little more than a wraith then, when the dreams of drowning in that cauldron plagued you nightly, a girl gulping on a woman’s grief. Now those dreams only come with the coming of a storm. A warning or some ill-fated omen.
“The time since the way has changed you.” It is not a question but a statement. 
You don’t smile at him like you should. Instead you meet Eris’ burning stare with a measured look of your own, “For the better, I hope?”
Eris thinks for a moment, as if looking for the right words to express his meaning. 
“You are a Goddess.” he says slyly gesturing to the dress as the skirts brush against him, baring the slit in the thigh to him. 
“Then kneel to me.” You say, not missing a beat as Eris laughs wickedly and brings his mouth to hover over the shell of your ear. 
“It seems you came to play the game tonight, afterall.” Eris says, his voice a low murmur in your ear. 
He spins you again, quick and violent before you crash back into him again, “don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.” 
“But I should believe you?” You ask, arching a brow to the cruel prince. 
“You shouldn’t believe anyone here, Little fox.” Eris tips his head towards the dias where Mor watches the pair of you from her spot besides the High Lord and Lady. 
“The Morrigan knows the truth,” Eris insists, “though she has never revealed it.” 
“Why?” You ask curiously. 
“Because she is afraid of it.” Eris’ voice is tempered and quiet and he casts the Inner Circle a look of his own, “they all are.” 
Your mouth twitches with the ghost of a smirk as you press yourself further into him, “You don’t do yourself any favors with this mask you wear.”
“Don’t I? I’ve managed to ally myself to this court, under constant threat of being discovered by my father-- do you have any idea what he’d do to me if he found out, Little fox?” Eris asks, the fire within him lighting and flickering in his amber eyes. “I ally myself with this court, I offer aid when I can, I placate Rhysand with ceremonies and shows of deference. Why do you think that is?”
Eris dips you again and the fan on his unbound hair brushes against your bare shoulders. 
“Because there’s something in it for you.” It isn’t a matter of question. You know it to be true and you see it in the way that Eris regards you with a mixture of fondness and caution. 
“Because there is something in it for me,” Eris confirms, “and tell me, what is in it for me?”
“What is it that you want, My Lord?” You ask, fluttering dark lashes at him and the music swells. 
“What is Rhysand offering?” Eris counters and leads you further into the center of the floor. 
“Nothing that I have the power to grant you.”
Eris laughs, the sound like silk on your skin and you shiver as he brings his lips to graze your ear, “I very much doubt that, Little fox?”
You swallow thickly and a surge of dark power pricks at your skin. You let him see it; all that cold rage, and the violence of the sea. 
Eris' face twists but not from fear and a strange look of reverence shines in his eyes. 
The waltz comes to a close and as the music fades into the chatter of the courtiers he whispers into your ear once more. 
“They say your sister Elain is the beauty, but you are something else entirely.” His breath is hot and sacred on your neck, and a broad hand strokes the bare skin of your back and you find yourself arching into him. 
Eris takes a step back from you, holding your hand above your head and turning you slowly as his eyes roam the curves and contours of your body, “You are wasted in the Night Court,” 
“Truly wasted.” His voice is a low whistle as you stop in front of him now. 
“And where might I be used more effectively, My Lord?” 
Eris chuckles again but before he can answer--
“Get your hands off her, Eris.” Azriel’s voice is like cold death that cuts through the spell that Eris has you under. His wrath comes off him in waves that crash against you, halting your movements. 
The dancing sea around you seems to cease to move as Eris and Azriel lock eyes. 
Eris straightens his back and he closes his hand over yours-- gently, almost protectively-- and he locks his eyes onto Azriel. 
Hazel and amber meet and shadow and light seem to dance in the air. The courtiers wait with baited breath. 
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you, Shadowsinger.” 
You stifle a snarl as you look at Azriel. Who does he think he is? He has no claim over you. He had made that much clear when you started this thing. A means to an end. A placeholder for another sister. 
“Am I to understand that you’d like to dance, Azriel?” You ask cooly, trying not to let your violet rage show in the darkness of your eyes. 
“Yes.” His voice is insistent and thick with jealousy and the promise of violence. 
Before you can pull yourself from Eris’ protective grip, Azriel is tugging on your wrist and bringing you into his side. 
Eris bares his teeth to Azriel and fire dances in those strange amber eyes. “Go sit at your master’s feet, dog.” 
Azriel laughs darkly and his shadows become a violent wisp of dark that wraps itself around you in a possessive manner. 
You swallow down the shame that you feel when Eris looks at you -- like all the power you had just moments ago has been ripped away from you, and now you are just another piece on the board to be bought and sold as your High Lord saw fit. 
A pretty whore, painted like some dark Goddess.
You band an arm across Azriel’s chest as he lunges forward in a flurry of movement. 
“It’s alright,” you offer Eris an apologetic smile, “I’ve taken too much of your time already.” You say diplomatically, taking Azriel’s hand in your own and pulling away from Eris.
Feyre and Rhysand had given up one of Nesta’s Made daggers in the name of Eris’ continued alliance, surely, one interrupted dance will not jeopardize it. 
Eris offers you a taut smile and he bows his head to you, “Very well then, we’ll play later, Little Fox.” 
Eris doesn’t so much as acknowledge Azriel as he ventures towards the dias again. 
Azriel holds you in place, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and he searches you as if looking for signs of injury. His touch is cold and biting. 
“Happy now?” you roll your eyes at him. 
Azriel stares coldly at you, his face set like stone, as if carved into the dark stone of the mountain, “not in the slightest.” 
You glance hesitantly over his shoulder and see Rhysand and Feyre each sharing a look of subtle fury. Azriel will no doubt be on the receiving end of a mental lashing. If Azriel has cost them this alliance it comes down on you too-
“He touched you and I-,” Azriel’s voice is weighted and serious at the same time you speak out. 
“Whatever has passed between us,” you say gesturing between you and him, “it has to end, Azriel.”
If Azriel felt anything at all but cold indifference his face does not show it. 
“Because of Eris?” Azriel asks incredulously, his tone full of venom.
“No, of course not,” You say truthfully, “because we are fools to think this will ever be enough.” 
A beat of silence lingers in the air between you.
“For either of us.” 
Azriel takes a moment to think about it and you see the recognition flash in his darkening hazel eyes, he looks over his shoulder in Elain’s direction. Carefully, measured, he looks at you again. 
“You want Elain.” You say matter of factly, even with a hint of sadness, “don’t deny it-- and I…” your voice trails into nothing. An errant whisper of power. 
“And what do you want?” Azriel asks, his voice once dark and cruel is something akin to familial. 
“I’m not sure yet.” you say thoughtfully, looking back to the dias where everyone regards you and Azriel warily. 
Azriel softens and he lets go of your arms and hides his scarred fingertips in the pockets of his dark colored tunic. He runs a hand over his face in regret and looses a shaky breath before laughing again. 
“Rhys is going to fucking slaughter me.” Azriel says and you laugh quietly, muttering in agreement as you link arms with his and lead him through the dancing sea of courtiers to the wine table. 
Azriel takes a goblet in each hand and offers one to you. The wine is dark and red and stains your lips like blood. The taste is woody and spiced, it tastes a little like Autumn. Azriel leans into the onyx pillar and angles himself away from the prying eyes of the courtiers as they dance. 
You’re at his side and move so that his body obstructs the view of Rhysand and Feyre, shunning their ire. 
“How pissed do you think they’ll be?” You ask grimly. 
“With you?” Azriel asks, cocking a brow in confusion. You only nod and wait for him to continue. Azriel swallows a large mouthful of wine, wiping his mouth with the back of a scarred hand “not at all, you did them a favor-- practically had Eris on his knees.” 
“Good.” You meet his eyes and for the first time tonight you feel as though you might just have something to offer. 
“Be careful with Eris,” Azriel says gently, his hand on your arm, “not everything he says is to be trusted.” 
“But I can trust you?” You ask, thinking back to what Eris had said earlier in the evening.
“Always.” Azriel says.
The orchestral music comes to a dramatic close and you see Nesta and Cassian dancing happily in the crowds. Elain remains on the dias and you catch her eyes as she watches you and Azriel with careful, wide eyes. 
“Come on, Shadowsinger,” You say defiantly, pushing yourself from the onyx pillar, “time to face the High Lord.” 
Azreil huffs indignantly and pushes away from the pillar, abandoning his goblet and stalking his way to Elain’s side on the dias. She smiles softly at him and you see some of the tension in Azriel’s shoulders dissolve into nothing but a contented ease. 
You approach the dias with a quiet reproach and as you meet Feyre’s eyes she croons at you, her smile is once of a brilliant radiant light that spills from her. A stark contrast to the cold darkness that you carry so well. 
Eris' voice is dark and serious as you approach The High Lord, his jaw tightens when Rhysand regards him with a cool violet gaze. 
“I have my reasons.” 
You’re not entirely sure what they’re talking about and when you take your place next to Feyre she places a hand on your arm in comfort. Though it does nothing to settle the acid churning in your stomach nor the storm that is raging inside of you. 
“Care to share those reasons with us?” Rhysand asks, picking at an errant thread on his beautiful dark tunic. 
For a moment his eyes glaze over, muted violet as he speaks mind to mind with the Autumn Prince.
Rhysand’s lips twitch lightly and you can see that whatever words passed between him and Eris has pleased him greatly-- at least given him the upper hand so that he doesn’t feel threatened but Eris’ commanding presence. 
Eris steps forwards again and adds, “Bestides, it is a bonus of course, that in doing so, I would be getting what has been owed to me even since my betrothal to Morrigan.” 
Rhysand studies Eris and then casts a fleeting glance along the line to you, standing dutifully at Feyre���s side. 
Like the docile, and obedient sister he wants you to be. 
A conduit of his dark power. A piece to be played in this game of power and politics. 
“Anything I want-- anything at all, whether it be armies from the Autumn Court or your firstborn, you would grant me it all in exchange for the Archeron girl as your wife?”
Azriel, still somewhat territorial, lets loose a low growl that rumbles like thunder through the air. 
Eris doesn’t deign to even look in his direction-- instead those haunting amber eyes linger on you. His eyes are soft and dark, burning into yours, and you find yourself caught in the unyielding, all consuming fire that is Eris Vanserra. 
Eris turns back to Rhysand. “Not as far as my heir, but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against the human queen? You’ll have them, and anything else you might ask of me.” 
“Just for her?” Azriel’s voice is cutting and suspicious as he hones in on Eris Vanserra. 
“The girl, and, when the time comes, you’ll aid me in seizing the Autumn Throne from my father.” Eris adds, his eyes shine with that slow-burning fire, “and then you’ll have all the armies you desire.”
Rhysand and Feyre share a look of pure delight, irreverent to anyone else but you see it for what it is. Feral delight at their victory. 
“I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?” 
I said bring him to his knees, darling. What dark magic is this? What have you done to him? Rhysand’s voice is like night-kissed air in your mind. 
Feyre’s laugh rings through you like birdsong and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that curls onto your lips.
You’re about to speak when you catch Eris’ eyes; those strange amber eyes. And then you feel it. 
A bond that grows taut and reverberates through the hall, like a ripple of power and a golden thread bridges the distance between your body and his. 
“Mate?” Eris’ voice strains with the weight of it, and you feel like light goes all through you, as though you are little more than a shadow or a memory as you allow yourself to sink into the dark waters that live within your mind's eye. “My mate.”
Your name breaks apart in his mouth and in a flash of violet and murky blue you’re greeted by the storm as it breaks over Velaris. On the horizon, dark and ominous as it approaches. You reach the balcony and wade out into the violent night, waiting for the storm to stake its claim to you. 
You were born on a night like this, you tell yourself. Like the Gods of old; born from the storms and the seas, to withstand the hardships of this world. To be cruel and merciless and beautiful. 
You whisper it, until you feel that bond in your chest grow taut, strained with the distance between you. And as Eris’ emotions run like water into you, for the first time in a long time you allow yourself to feel. 
To yield to the storm as it breaks against you with all the force of a great tempest.
1K notes · View notes
nestaswinecabinet · 1 month
Text
Dream Girl Evil - Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader
warnings: language, dumbshits who don't know their own feelings A/N: loosely based off florence and the machine's song dream girl evil i really hope y'all like it. this will be part one mini series. hopefully will get the resolution of this posted soon :)
Part One - Part Two - Part Three (Upcoming)
---
Nesta watched her twin on the balcony of the House of Wind with a curious gaze. There was something about how you held yourself tonight that made Nesta think there was something wrong with you. You usually loved being the life of the party, much to Nesta and your other two sisters’ dismay, and drew people towards you like a beacon on a foggy night. But lately, the shine your presence usually brought to parties had dimmed to be barely distinguishable from the faelight in the room. 
You absentmindedly picked at your nails while leaning against the railing of the balcony, wistfully contemplating your existence, Nesta guessed. You were deep like that. Always contemplating the ramifications of actions, whether they be your own or the ones of others. Nesta was about to step towards you when Cassian wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her into the conversation he was having with whomever it was. She glanced back at you before moving her attention to the man talking to her mate. 
And you felt it. Thank the Cauldron for that little gift, you mused to yourself sardonically. While Rhys and Feyre may be able to read the thoughts of everyone in the room dumb enough to not put up mental shields, you were able to feel the intentions of people. You could feel gazes on you, not because you were paranoid, but because your powers picked up on their intention to try and figure you out. You could feel Nesta physically pull her attention away from you and direct it to someone else. You wondered what was worse – hearing every thought in the room, or knowing people’s intentions without any context. 
Almost as soon as Nesta’s attention moved from you, you felt another gaze slink from the bottom of your spine to your neck and draw closer to you. You could almost hear the smirk that followed those polished footsteps. 
“All alone, princess?” Eris asked condescendingly. You barely looked over your left shoulder to see him from the corner of your eye take the place next to you. 
“By design, asshole,” you quipped back. Eris chuckled at your response. You had known him, for what? 20 years now? Mother, how long had it been since the war with Hybern? However long it has been, you don’t think you’ve ever called him by his first name. You usually spit his last name at him when he deigned to show his face in Velaris. And if it wasn’t his last name, it was usually a sarcastic “High Lord” following the timely death of his father, Beron, or some other mockery. 
“Asshole? Ouch, you wound me, princess,” Eris said, putting a hand to his chest. 
“Good, that was the goal,” you smirked at him. Eris leaned his arms against the balcony in the same manner you did and took a half step closer to you. 
“Are you going to ignore me all night?” he whispered. 
“Well, did you miss me?” 
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. It feels like you came all this way just to kiss me two nights ago and then discard me into the Sidra today. Normally, Rhys has to pull the two of us away from killing each other, but this time ‘round, you could barely stay within three feet of me before running in the opposite direction.” 
“Princess,” Eris says, almost exasperatedly. “You have to understand, these trips to the Night Court, to Velaris, as much as I would love for them to be just to visit you, they are work trips. I am here to negotiate with Rhys and Feyre. Every. Single. Time,” he grits out. You chuckle more to yourself than anything and look away from him. 
“Go ahead, Eris. Just do it,” you spit. The first time you say his name and it’s like this? He almost takes a step back in surprise. 
“Princess?”
“Don’t call me that,’ you breathed. “Just deliver the bad news, Eris. You talk about me being the only one to warm your bed, yet I hear the rumors all the way from the Autumn Court of your exploits. The first time you come here after the news breaks you are looking for a suitable bride, you can barely acknowledge my presence. You call me your ‘Dream Girl’ in private, yet the second you see me in public, you can barely contain your demeaning comments about the ‘Wicked’ Archeron sister. What was it last week that made me so foul to your ilk? I think it was my lack of smiling, hmm?,” you turn your whole body towards him. “So what am I, Eris? Your Dream Girl, or Evil? Cause I can’t be both.” 
“That’s not fair and you know it,” he grits. You scoff and turn so that you’re facing the party and lean against the balcony. Eris is still positioned facing the city and only half his face to those looking at you from inside the festivities. The one thing you hated, and loved, most about the gifts the Cauldron gave you, was not only could you feel the intentions of others, but you could pull their attention to you as well. You wanted Nesta or Feyre or anyone to look at you and give you a reason to leave your conversation with Eris. And thank the Mother that Nesta glanced at you, pulled by your invisible beacon, and gave you a questioning look that could be taken as her asking you to join her circle. You breathed in relief before turning back to Eris. 
“If you would excuse me, High Lord,” you curtsied to him and Eris rolled his eyes. “My sister beckons.”
Eris reached out and grabbed your arm pulling you back towards him, “Do you seriously want to do this?” 
“Do what, High Lord? I am nothing but the Wicked Archeron Sister, going to take her place as the Court’s outcast. Since no one will speak to me unless I am accompanied by other members of the Inner Circle, I might as well join conversations I am invited to by my sisters rather than sit here and be insulted by your attention.” You ripped your arm from his grip and made your way to Nesta. She couldn’t help but throw a look at Eris after watching the whole exchange happen. Eris couldn’t meet Lady Death’s eyes though, afraid of what might happen after so publicly insulting her sister. 
“Are you alright?” Nesta asked at your approach. 
“Yes, my darling,” you smiled and cupped her cheek. The Silver Flames that burned in Nesta’s eyes saw your lies and the tears that threatened to spill. “Only frustrated that we have to continue to entertain his kind during these events.”
“His kind?” Nesta questioned. 
“Yes, the despicable kind.” You knew that Eris could hear you. Your mate could hear you call him despicable. But it was the only thing that lessened the hurt you felt from being rejected by your mate so many times since the bond had snapped for you. 
— 
You felt the bond snap on a cold Autumn day. The Inner Circle had decided to make the trip to Lucien’s birth court for the Autumn Equinox. It was after dinner and dancing had started in the main ballroom. It had been maybe a year since Eris had taken over after his father’s death. And while no major improvements could be boasted, the Autumn Court members seemed less sad, or angry, or fearful maybe, than they had during Beron’s reign. 
The bond snapped the second your eyes met his during the presentation of the Night Court at the beginning of the ball. The Inner Circle was nothing if not methodical in how they presented themselves. First Lucien, Azriel, and Cassian, then Mor and Amren, next the High Lady’s three sisters, all before Rhys and Feyre made their entrance ensconced in shadows, like Night Triumphant. Nesta was in the middle of your little trio, the most powerful of the three of you, and the oldest, placed strategically to encapsulate her rank above you and Elain. And gladly, you let her steal the spotlight. While Elain may be quiet due to her natural shyness and overall demeanor, you were quiet because you had absolutely no patience for the games of the High Fae. 
It was why people started calling you the “Wicked Archeron Sister.” You had no sympathy for their so-called problems and let them know your opinions. Your temper regarding court politics made you an amazing asset to the Court of Dreamers in their ongoing negotiating with the Court of Nightmares. You didn’t pull your punches, both physical and verbal. Much to the chagrin of those envious of Rhys’ circle.
So when your eyes met the High Lord of Autumn, your wicked heart stuttered at the sudden emotion it felt for a member of a court you had no allegiance to, and you gasped loud enough that Nesta had to grasp your hand to keep you balanced. The golden thread tying you to him, pulling taut. You were so flustered in the moment, you missed the tilt of Eris’ head at your slight outburst. Quickly, you had steeled yourself to be the perfect pillar of good manners that you were trained to be by your mother. You then moved to the edge of the room as Rhys and Feyre made their immaculate entrance.
“Something amiss?” Nesta asked as she sidled up to you. You rolled your eyes at her smirk. “Could it be the copper haired hunk sitting on the throne by chance?”
“Ha ha, Nes. Nothing… is wrong,” you mumbled. Nesta turned toward you fully and blocked the rest of the room from you. 
“Darling, I know you. You don’t gasp unless startled by something way beyond your control. So what was it, dear sister?” You glanced away for a moment, before you looked back at the person who was your truest mirror in life, with tears in your eyes. 
“Nes, he’s…” you started. 
“Sh, sh, shh. Not here. Don’t let them see you cry,” Nesta put a hand to your cheek and you sucked in a breath before choking back your tears. 
“Alright. Later then,” you smiled at her. You squeezed her arm before making your way out of the ballroom to collect yourself, all the while, your mate watching your every move. 
— 
It was a few months later when he came to Velaris for the first time as High Lord that your flirtation and eventual “frenemies-with-benefits” (as Mor called it) started. Snarky comment here, long night at Rita’s there, and you and Eris found yourselves in and out of each other’s bed more often than you would like to admit. 
The first one to catch the two of you was Azriel about a month after you started seeing one another. Eris was leaving your room in the River House as Azriel was walking back to his with a cup of coffee to his lips. The two stared at each other in utter surprise before Az smirked and kept walking down the hall. 
After that, Eris insisted you join him at Forest House or that you get your own apartment in Velaris. As the latter would cause too much of a stir, and your winnowing was stronger than most, you joined him at Forest House most of the time. So for the next almost 20 years of your life, you had as close to a secret relationship with Eris Vanserra as you could. People in your life of course found out, either because you didn’t winnow back to River House early enough and they could scent him on you or because they saw your longing looks during parties and put two and two together. And not once during this time, did you ever guess that the bond had snapped for him.
Recently, however, you have been keeping your distance from him. One too many rumors had found you about women who said they had recently been with Eris when he had promised you that you were the only one he had been with. And then even more horrible rumors had started that he was in want of a high born, well bred wife.
And you had hit your limit. You could deal with him making excuses about why you were wandering around corridors in the Forest House. You could deal with the secrets you kept from your family and the half ass excuses you gave them. And while it hurt, you could deal with his dismissive personality in public, when he pretended not to know you or barely looked your way. 
You could not, however, deal with your mate putting out a “Wife Wanted” ad, meant for every high born lady but yourself. 
So you ignored him the best you could when he came to visit. But unfortunately Starfall, in conjunction with your sister’s birthday, was too big of a celebration for you to graciously bow out of. You played your part of the dutiful, if not Wicked, sister to the most powerful High Lady.
And Eris watched you from his side of the room. He watched your sad eyes and watched your languid movements. He listened to the desperate whispers of courtiers who spoke ill of you for no other reason than because you were more powerful and well connected than they. And it killed him inside. It made him want to rip their throats out. 
He had proposed to his advisors that you might be a suitable match in order to gain favor from the Night Court. They had turned down you as an option due to your reputation. No one would ever bow to you with that heartless thing on your arm, Eris, they had said. And while he adamantly disagreed, he didn't say anything to persuade them otherwise. His position was too new, and he was too afraid to do the wrong thing. So he watched you with your sister from the outskirts of the room. 
The next day, you sat at the kitchen table in the House of Wind, overlooking the Velaris skyline. A cup of coffee nestled in your hands, you sighed and once more contemplated your existence. You could feel gazes on you, but that wasn’t new. It was expected actually. Eyes always seemed to follow you everywhere you went. But this time the gaze seemed more wanting and expectant than the usual looks of your family. 
“What do you want, High Lord?”
“For you to look at me,” Eris said, pushing off of the door frame he was leaning against. He started making his way towards you, you immediately curled up, knees drawing closer to your chest and arms wrapping around yourself. 
“Why would I gaze upon anyone who couldn’t care less about my existence?” Eris rolled his eyes as he sat down across from you. 
“Since when have I given you the impression that I don’t care about your existence?”
“When have you ever given me the impression that you do care?” you lock eyes with him as you make the statement. Eris’ eyes burn at you, almost as if you could see the flames behind them at that statement. 
“Why the attitude, darling? I came here for a celebration and all I have been met with is your cold shoulder.”
“Sorry, I thought you were here on business, and I wouldn’t want to step on the toes of your future fiancée,” you mumble and take another sip of your coffee. 
“What fiancée, Y/N? You keep throwing out the idea of an engagement as if I am already betrothed. I haven’t so much as touched another woman in years,” Eris barked at you. You could feel his agitation and his desperation to have you understand him. You laughed. 
“Eris, it’s all that anyone has been able to talk about for the past few months. You are the most eligible bachelor in all of Prythian and you didn’t think your want of a wife would make it back to me?” you cried. Tears, as hard as you tried to keep them back, formed in your eyes. “I have watched for the past however many years as you flirt and whoo everyone with legs. And I am tired of pretending like I mean something to you, when it is very clear I do not, Eris. So please, leave me be and go back to your little court of games. I don’t wish to be a part of them any longer.”
“Y/N, please, our situation hasn’t changed so drastically since the last time we saw each other. I just don’t understand how you are all of a sudden so upset with me?”
“All of a sudden? Eris, you are my mate, how could I be anything other than upset!” you shouted at him. Eris looked taken aback at your comment. Cauldron, he really hadn’t known, had he? You don’t know if that gives you solace or pains you more. On the one hand he really didn’t know, so how could you blame him? On the other hand, were you really so insignificant to him that the bond couldn’t snap for him? You closed your eyes. "Fuck," you whispered to yourself.
Eris stood from where he was seated across for you. “Mate?” 
“Eris, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to pressure you-” 
“How long?”
“Eris -”
“How long have you known?” Eris paced behind the island in the kitchen looking more stressed than you have ever seen him.
“The bond snapped the first Equinox after you took the throne.”
“You have known for the past eighteen years that we have been mates? And you have said nothing?” He slammed his hands on the counter, making you flinch. 
“It wouldn’t have changed anything. I would still be the awkward Archeron sister that doesn’t fit in this Court, and you would still be High Lord,” you state, eyes downcast on the coffee in your lap. 
“It changes everything,” he shouts.
“Everything alright here?” Azriel says as he makes his way into the kitchen followed by Cassian and Nesta, presumably after their early morning training session. Nesta is filled with concern seeing you alone with Eris and it hits you like a wave. 
“Just peachy,” you state. Eris rolls his eyes. 
“Not peachy. How long have you all known that we are mates?”
885 notes · View notes
surielrecs · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Fluff
Autumn Frost by @tadpolesonalgae
Happy Birthday by @clairebear08
In Sickness and in Health by @honeybeefae
Strength of Love by @thevanserrras
Tranquility by @thevanserrras
Angst
Be Happy for Me, Please. by @honeybeefae
Breaking Point by @thevanserrras
Broken Glass by @clairebear08
Daylight by @jeannineee
Didn't Listen by @danikamariewrites
Let Me Go by @jeannineee
Rescue by @danikamariewrites
The Prince of Blood by @leafsandstarlight
Wake Me up When September Ends by @tadpolesonalgae
Woven by @clairebear08
Smut
All We Have is Now by @honeybeefae
Attitude by @jeannineee
Cauldron Fated by @honeybeefae
Club Celebrations by @clairebear08
Conditions of Entry by @illyrian-dreamer
Corruption by @honeybeefae
Degradation by @throneofsmut
Disobedience by @tadpolesonalgae
Great Rite by @leafsandstarlight
Hatred by @jeannineee
Heavy is the Head by @leafsandstarlight
I Missed You by @jeannineee
Moth to a Pyre by @readychilledwine
My Lonely Throne by @leafsandstarlight
Not So Tough by @jeannineee
See Red by @fieldofdaisiies
Servitude by @tadpolesonalgae
Sticks and Stones by @honeybeefae
Series
Destiny's Battleground by @leafsandstarlight
In Spite of Our Differences by @leafsandstarlight
Loose Lips by @acourtofwhatthefuck
If you end up reading any of these amazing fics please give the authors some love!!!! please try and drop a reply and let them know how much we appreciate the time they take to produce such incredible content for us readers! I've seen so many writers get discouraged recently due to lack of interaction from readers, so I am begging you to comment on their fics!
I also hope to update this & add more fics, so please feel free to send in suggestions/your favorites! I’ll be posting lists for other characters soon.
1K notes · View notes
daycourtofficial · 16 days
Text
I am ash from your fire
Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.
Author’s note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you 🤷🏼‍♀️ also I’m headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on
(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)
Tumblr media
Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.
The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.
It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his children’s chambers. No, he’d have word sent to them so they can come to him.
Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.
Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.
He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.
His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.
“That’s one way to say hello.”
His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mate’s voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.
He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.
“My precious fox.”
The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.
Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Eris’s hands, playing with his fingers.
You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.
He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. He’s never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.
He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why you’re here.
The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He can’t recall if you’ve ever even been in his private chambers.
You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why you’re here, but you can’t look at him while you do it.
You’re not sure what you’ll find from him as you recount your tale.
You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.
“Rhys found one of your letters,” you say, not able to look at him. “I was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.”
Something warms in Eris’s chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love you’d exchange between each other.
Much like he did every night.
“We got into a big fight, and he uh-“
Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.
“He told me I was no sister of his.”
Eris can’t help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.
“What did his little lackeys have to say?” He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.
His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.
“Truthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,” he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps that’s all there was to it.
At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.
“They uh weren’t there,” you reply, “no one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.”
You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysand’s face had gotten during your fight. You feel Eris’s head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.
“He was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.” You sigh. “Then he began screeching about how you’re awful, you’re terrible, and ‘what about Mor’ and blah blah blah.”
“How’d you respond?” Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.
“I told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.”
He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.
“He said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.” You blow out a breath, “then he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.”
Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.
“That’s when I told him to fuck off.”
Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.
“We fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasn’t giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.”
“My family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.”
Eris’s grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.
Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.
He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.
“Oh, my little fox.”
He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.
He knew he’d never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.
To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend you’re next to him again.
He could, he thinks. He’d recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.
He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.
He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesn’t feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.
You feel hopeful. You feel open.
He can’t ask, but you know he needs to hear it.
“I am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.”
Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.
“I am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,” your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, “I humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.”
A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.
Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.
Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didn’t burn.
You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.
“I apologize, my love, deeply and truly.”
His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.
For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.
He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.
You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.
He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.
“I choose you too.”
841 notes · View notes
azsazz · 2 days
Text
Hide (Part 2)
Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader
Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1,428
[Part One]
Notes: Obsessing over this one.
_________________________________________
You swallow harshly at your brother’s question, eyes darting over to catalogue your mate. You try not to startle in your seat when a wall of harsh autumn winds slams between your bond. He’s only protecting you; you must remind yourself. There’s a fine tremble to your hands, so you clench them together in your lap. 
Azriel notes the move, your restlessness as Rhysand stares down your mate like these are his last moments on this plane of existence. You have no idea what Rhysand’s going to do to Eris, but with the thick darkness rolling from his shoulders and slowly filling the room, whatever it might be will not be good.
You cannot let that happen. 
“Rhysand—"
Your brother holds up a hand, his glare swinging towards you. The thin line of betrayal ringing his eyes makes your stomach roil. You hadn’t meant to break his trust and you never intended on keeping secrets from him, but with the courts on the edge of war…
“Do. Not. Speak.” Rhysand’s demand is a death knell of its own. When you were young, you remember how he’d always been the one to listen to any of your problems, even when they felt silly. He would always offer you a solution if you were looking for one, or a piece of cake if you only wanted to wallow in your feelings. 
The smell of burning wood answers his harsh words. 
Cassian shifts in his seat, eyeing Eris. He leans further back in his chair and places his hand on the table, the wicked curve of the short blade clutched firmly in his hand pointing directly at your mate.
Your bond flares, eyes going hard at the sight of the threat to your mate. You’re ready to jump out of your seat, scramble across the table to tackle the male, no matter how much you consider him family. You know all of Cassian’s weak spots, and your gaze is calculating as you decide which maneuver will draw him away from your mate.
The single look Eris sends you keeps you from reacting. 
Instead, you settle back in your seat, showing Eris your unfaltering trust for him. You will allow your mate to say his piece to your brother. You might be crossing your arms over your chest with a hard look all your own, but you will heed Eris’ silent ask of you.
Eris is a mask of nonchalance, and you wish he hadn’t blocked you from his feelings, but it’s better this way. He cannot have your reactions to your brother muddling his own feelings. It’s safer for the both of you to keep to yourself right now, no matter how much you hate the idea of being apart from him like this.
“I will ask you once more,” Rhysand’s voice is filled with smoke. “How long have you been putting your filthy fucking hands on my sister.”
Something flares in Eris’ russet eyes that makes you want to bite, to snarl at your brother for his cruelness. You gnaw the insides of your cheeks to keep from snapping. 
“Would hearing that answer please you, High Lord?” Eris snarks back. He sits easily in his seat as if this isn’t an interrogation at all, as if they’re all bantering over the weather and Rhysand isn’t looking at him like he’s about to unleash the beast within him that he keeps on a short chain. The only give to Eris’ temper are the burnt handprints on the armrests of the chair he’s lounging in. “To know that the fires of autumn light the stars of night?” 
You want to hiss at him for his words. You should’ve known better that Eris would do nothing but taunt your brother. He is nowhere near as powerful as Rhys, especially since he is still under the rule of his father, but his specialty is that mouth of his. 
You try not to think about how he uses that mouth when he’s with you, the yearning for him flooding your body so deeply you clench your thighs together. Another motion that Azriel tracks, cocking his head a little as he watches you with that unnervingly stoic face of his. You shoot him a pleading look but are unable to make out how he reads into your pleas not to hurt your mate.
Rhysand bares his teeth in warning. The flare of his nostrils and the stars winking out of his eyes tells you that he’s moments away from unleashing his wrath upon Eris.
“Two years,” you blurt and all gazes swing your way. You don’t look at anyone else except for Eris, your eyes soft and pleading. His eyes flicker back and forth between yours and his shoulders slump a little, cracking the steel trap blocking your bond to send down a cool rush of apology that you accept with a soft nod. “We’ve been mated for two years.” 
There’s a sharp exhale coming from your brother but you can’t look away from your mate. Two years since you offered him that dessert from your favorite bakery the one time you’d been able to sneak away from your brother and his friends to meet Eris at the portal where Night crossed into Autumn. 
Two years of fiery, passionate nights, hidden away in your own solace. Two years of a fresh breath of autumn, of copper hair and russet eyes and the warmest hands you’ve ever had the pleasure of touching. Two years of unyielding loyalty. Two years of too much time spent apart—
No more. You won’t have it. Rhysand can act as protective older brother as much as he wants but it isn’t going to stop you from being with Eris any longer.
Darkness of your own ekes out of you as you plant your hands on the smooth surface of the table and rise. You stare Rhysand down as the tendrils of black wind around his, Azriel, and Cassian’s wrists, pinning them to their spots. You are in no way matching Rhysand’s power, but he seems at a loss for words as you stand up for yourself, watching with those all too calculating feline eyes of his, allowing you your time.
Stalking around the table, you don’t break the High Lord’s gaze. You hold your chin high even if there’s a pinch of terror in your gut for this continued betrayal to your brother, to your court. But he has no idea what you’ve given up for this bond, how you’ve suffered being kept from your mate. 
One day, you hope Rhysand will understand. Will understand why you halt a step behind where your mate is still trapped to his chair. Why you place a hand on his shoulder, the feeling of him after so long filling your lungs to maximum capacity. You haven’t ben able to breathe fully since you’ve been away from each other. 
He’ll understand why it is that your actions look like you’re swearing fealty to another court, when you’ve already been a patron of autumn ever since you and Eris completed your mating bond. 
“What are you—“ Your brother breathes when he realizes the severity of what you’re doing.
“I will not be kept from my mate any longer.” Your words are loud and sure. You think you’ve done a good job at standing up to Rhysand, until his eyes flicker and the house shakes on its studs.
All of the air is sucked from the room at your words. The strip of skin you’re touching on Eris’ neck warms, but it does little to settle you. You’re not out of the clear yet.
Slowly, all too slowly, Rhysand leans back in his seat. The way he’s looking at you makes you shift in your spot, the disbelief and  in his eyes a bright streak before he snuffs it out, returning to the easy role of High Lord he’s practices meticulously for centuries. 
It hurts to see.
With a careless flick of his hand he breaks through your shadows with ease. All of the darkness in the room dissipates, ever faithful to their master. You only hold an ounce of power compared to him. 
The corner of his mouth curves, and if it’s a smirk or a snarl you don’t know, but neither is as harrowing as the words that slip past his lips. “I wonder which will get you killed faster—your loyalty or your love.” Rhysand stands, turning his back on you as he stalks towards the door. “Get out of my court.”
_________________________________________
Tagging those who commented if you don't want to be tagged on this just lmk <3 Some of you couldn't be tagged btw
Hide Taglist: @littlestw01f @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @naturakaashi @lexluvswriting @chybay22 @roseliey @acotar-thirst @teenagellamaangel @minaethrym @tothestarsandwhateverend @coolepowersthings @lena-davina @xyzmeh @meritxellao @shadowdaddysposts @callsigns-haze @mrs-azriel @eminvelaris @daily-does-of-sass @kennedy-brooke
406 notes · View notes
parkerslatte · 5 months
Text
Overlooked | Part One
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: none.
Summary: Y/N, the eldest Archeron sister, and while the Inner Circle are invited to the Autumn Court by Eris, the new High Lord, Y/N and Eris meet for the first time and the bond snaps.
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
•••
Y/N Archeron was always overlooked. Her whole life she would always be looked over in favour of her younger sisters. Of course when Y/N was human, she learnt to live with it. She did what she could to try and support her family, picking up as many jobs as she could. The only one who ever thanked her was Feyre. 
Once Y/N was made into fae and her entire life was flipped upside down, she felt more overlooked than she had in her whole life. Feyre had Rhys. Nesta had Cassian. Elain had Lucien and Azriel. Y/N had no one. Of course Mor took it upon herself to bring her along to Rita’s every time she went. Occasionally Y/N would go home with someone but in recent months, she preferred to be alone. 
Now as she sat alone in her apartment, there was a pain in her heart. The last few months, Y/N had been more lonely than ever. She had barely seen her sisters and the rest of the Inner Circle. Azriel was the only one she had seen and it was in passing, Y/N didn’t stick around for a full conversation. 
There was a knock at her door and Y/N sighed before dragging her feet to the front door and opened it up. Feyre was standing on the other side with a friendly smile on her face. Her hair was tied up and her hands were covered in dried paint. 
“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Feyre said, wrapping her eldest sister in a hug. 
Despite the way she was feeling, Y/N smiled as she wrapped her arms around her youngest sister. It was the first hug she had received in a while. 
“What are you doing here? How’s Nyx?” Y/N asked. 
“He’s great,” Feyre said, lighting up at the mention of her son. “He misses you though.”
“I miss him too,” Y/N said. “I’ve been a bit busy lately, but I’ll visit everyone soon.”
“About that,” Feyre said as the two took a seat on Y/N’s couch. “We have been summoned to the Autumn Court. Eris has become the new High Lord and we need to build his trust. There is a ball and we must be in attendance.”
“Oh,” Y/N said, deflating the smallest amount. Her sister hadn’t come to see her to catch up.
“The whole Inner Circle is attending,” Feyre continued. 
“But I’m not a part of the Inner Circle,” Y/N replied. 
“Of course you are!” Feyre exclaimed. “You are family.”
It doesn’t feel like it, Y/N thought.
“When is this happening?” Y/N asked. 
“Two days time,” Feyre replied. 
Y/N only nodded and Feyre stood up from the couch. “I need to get back home, but I’ll come to collect you in two days.” 
Y/N didn’t bother to rise from the couch as Feyre hugged her and bid her goodbye as she exited her home. There was a pain in Y/N’s heart as she folded in on herself. All she wanted was her sisters and even they didn’t have the time for her anymore. 
***
Two days later, Y/N wore a gown that left little to the imagination. The slits in the skirt ended at her upper thigh and the plunging neckline and tight bodice accentuated her curves. Despite the way she was feeling, Y/N smiled at her reflection. 
When Feyre met with Y/N and was winnowed to the rest of the group, she remained on the outskirts. Everyone greeted her yet it felt as if they were only doing it out of common courtesy. Y/N never wanted to go back to her apartment more than ever. 
The Night Court was beautiful and Y/N would admit that. But the moment she got to the Autumn Court, she was taken by its beauty. The colours of the leaves and trees put her at ease. The slight breeze ruffled her hair as a smile tugged at her lips.
The feeling of being in the Autumn Court was different and Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good thing or not. She felt a small tug within her that drew her in. 
While everyone didn’t even stop to look around, Y/N lingered behind everyone looking around in wonder. Even when they entered the hall where the ball was taking place. Y/N gasped. 
The intricate architecture and the walls that seemed to shine took her breath away. The rest of the Inner Circle didn’t even react. Rhysand’s gaze was fixated on Eris standing at the very end of the room, lounging on his throne. 
When Y/N finally tore her gaze away from the high ceiling, her gaze finally landed on Eris. There was a slight tug within her that made her freeze. Eris’s gaze bore into hers as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression hardened just as quickly as he tore his gaze away from Y/N. 
“Rhysand,” Eris greeted, standing up from his throne. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.”
Y/N didn’t listen to Rhysand’s response as her gaze was fixated on Eris. There was a small frown on her face. There was a tug within her that she didn’t fully understand but she wanted to know more. 
Before Y/N knew it, everyone was mingling as she stood on the outskirts of the room, sipping her wine. Many males had approached her to dance but Y/N simply denied them. She had stayed near her sisters at first but as they went off with their mates, and in Elain’s case, Azriel, Y/N remained on her own. 
Feyre had spoken to her briefly and Nesta and Elain had exchanged a couple of words but there was nothing more than that. There was never anything more than that. 
Y/N watched as everyone danced and truly looked happy. Happier than she had ever seen them. Y/N could tell that she didn’t fit anywhere within their happiness. With a sigh, Y/N placed her empty wine glass down and slipped out of the room. 
She didn’t stray too far, the music could still be heard and Y/N hummed along. The night sky was filled with stars and Y/N simply sat herself down on the grass. The Autumn Court was beautiful. 
Y/N’s relaxed body suddenly tensed as she heard footsteps behind her. 
“The eldest Archeron sister.”
Y/N looked in the direction of the voice and her eyes wide fed as she felt the tug in her chest pull even more as Eris stood beside her. 
“Yes?” Y/N said. 
A smirk was present on Eris’s face as he lowered himself down so sit beside her. She was surprised. The High Lord of Autumn just sat on the grass beside her willingly. From what everyone had spoken about Eris, Y/N didn’t expect him to do that. 
“I haven’t seen you before,” Eris said, his tone casual. 
“I haven’t had a reason to make myself known,” Y/N responded. “I try not to be a part of anyone’s business.”
“But you were Made,” said Eris, leaning back on his elbows. “That makes you everyone’s business.” 
Y/N scoffed. “I never wanted to be Made. I was content with my life.”
Eris hummed.
Y/N glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. The tug happened again and Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. 
“I was content with my life when I still felt like I had a family,” Y/N wasn’t entirely sure why she had told Eris that but she felt relieved that it was off her chest. 
Eris frowned. “You have three sisters.”
Y/N laughed humorously. “Three sisters who are happy with their relationships and families that they never spare a look my way. Ever since I was Made and have been trapped within the Night Court, I have felt my own sisters distancing themselves from me. I know it isn’t intentional. They have their own lives and I have mine. They each have their someone. They have someone to look after and someone to look after them. I am completely alone.”
There was nothing stopping the words spilling out of her mouth and she didn’t want to stop them. The weight on her chest was seemingly lifting with every word she spoke. However once Y/N realised who she was speaking to, her words ceased. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about how sad my life is,” Y/N said, wiping away a tear she didn’t know had escaped. 
“You feel trapped in the Night Court?” Eris questioned. 
“Trapped was the wrong word I think,” Y/N said. “I was welcomed at first but Rhys never allowed me to leave on my own in the first few months. I had to either stay indoors or have an escort everyday I went. It was suffocating. Even now, I am still told to stay within Velaris.”
“It has been years,” Eris said. “Why don’t you leave?” 
Y/N shrugged. “I am not sure where I would go. It’s not like I know anyone else and I wouldn’t be welcome back to my old life. So I guess I am trapped.”
Eris didn’t respond as he got to his feet, brushing himself off. He held out his hand to Y/N. 
“Come and dance with me,” Eris said. 
For some reason, Y/N felt herself reaching up to touch his hand. As soon as her fingers brushed his, Eris closed his hand around hers and pulled her to her feet. 
Y/N’s heart raced as they stood chest to chest. That pull in her chest became tight. 
Eris’s eyes glanced down at her, his eyes fighting to remain on her eyes. He failed as he looked down at her body and the dress that clung to it. The colour perfectly matching his jacket. 
“Why are you being nice to me?” Y/N questioned, her voice a whisper. 
Eris’s eyes locked with hers again, as Isal could easily get lost in them. “What have they told you about me?”
“That you are rude, manipulative, dangerous,” Y/N answered. “They mentioned that you proposed to my sister after only one dance.”
“And do you know the reason for that,” Eris whispered, stepping closer to Y/N. 
The eldest Archeron shook her head, her heart hammering against her chest as the close proximity. 
“My father,” Eris spat, “was forcing my hand in marriage, he didn’t care who it was. I fought against it but once he…” Eris trailed off and sighed, though Y/N didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he did, but I knew that it would continue if I didn’t marry.”
“So you proposed to my sister,” Y/N concluded.
“I’ll be honest and say that it was a spur of the moment decision and I knew that it would piss off your High Lord and his lapdogs.”
“He isn’t my High Lord,” Y/N responded. 
“Oh? Then who is?” Eris’s voice was low and rumbled in his chest. Y/N's hands moved on their own accord to rest firmly against his firm chest. Not to push him away but to feel him. 
“No one,” Y/N said. “I am not controlled by anyone.”
Eris smirked. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Before Y/N could muster up a response, Eris had laced his fingers with hers and pulled her toward the ballroom. It was still lively and everyone still danced with their partners. However as Eris entered the room, all attention seemed to divert towards him, and then to Y/N, who didn’t shrink away from the stares. 
Eris brought her to the centre of the ballroom. His gaze focussed on her. Y/N swallowed, suddenly nervous. Even though many others had returned to dancing, Y/N could still feel the stares of those of the Night Court. From the corner of her eye, she could see Rhysand’s face twist into one of anger. Y/N couldn’t find it within herself to care. 
“Don’t focus on them, just focus on me,” Eris muttered as he wrapped an arm around her to pull her body flush with his and they began to dance to the music. 
At first Y/N couldn’t focus on anything but the stares of her sisters and their mates, but as soon as she felt Eris lightly squeeze her hand, she shifted focus to him. They danced around the ballroom with ease and Y/N found herself smiling. Y/N was surprised that the smirk Eris had was changed. Now a genuine smile graced his handsome face. It suited him.
“You are quite beautiful, Y/N Archeron,probably the most beautiful female I have ever encountered,” Eris muttered.
Y/N flushed and tried to ignore her pounding heart.
“Why are you being nice to me?” Y/N asked as he spun her around. “You never answered my question.”
As she was spun back into his chest, Eris held onto her tightly. “You feel it too, don’t you? That tug. That pull that began as soon as you set eyes on me.”
Y/N didn’t respond but the answer was in her eyes. 
“I feel it too,” Eris whispered into her ear. “And do you know what it is?”
Y/N had a feeling she knew what it was but she didn’t want to say it, in fear of being wrong and in fear of what would happen after. 
“A mating bond,” Eris whispered, his lips brushing against her ear and Y/N’s body was immediately covered in goosebumps. 
Y/N pulled away and looked into Eris’s eyes. There was something in the back of her mind telling her that he was lying and it was all some big joke. But the moment she looked into his eyes, she saw nothing but sincerity. 
Eris pressed his forehead against Y/N’s and she felt that cord within her tighten more until it snapped into place. There was no more feeling of the pushing and pulling. Her body seemed to get warmer and she gasped. 
“You are my mate,” Y/N said in disbelief. 
Eris smiled. “And you are mine.”
From across the ballroom, Rhysand stood with the rest of the Inner Circle, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at Eris. The High Lord of Autumn, listed his gaze from Y/N for the first time since they had begun to dance and locked it onto Rhysand. 
“I think your brother in law wants to talk,” Eris commented. 
Y/N ripped her attention away from Eris and turned it to her family standing the opposite side of the ballroom. Feyre’s eyes held a sense of pleading for her to get away from Eris. Nesta and Elain stood by her side, unreadable expressions on both of their faces. 
“Why should I care what they have to say? It’s not like they have taken any care in what I have to say.” Y/N answered. 
“I would love to return to dancing with you and let Rhysand do his own thing, whether that be leaving or brooding,” Eris said, his hand gripping her waist. “But I need to keep up appearances tonight.”
Eris led Y/N out of the ballroom and into the hallway, the rest of the Inner Circle following behind them. 
“What are you doing with him, Y/N?” Rhysand said as soon as the door was closed. 
“Dancing,” Y/N responded bluntly, folding her arms across her chest.
“Y/N, just come with us,” Feyre pleaded to her older sister. 
“Why?” Y/N exclaimed. “It’s not as if any of you even notice I’m there half of the time.”
“That’s not true,” Feyre said.
“Yes it is,” Y/N said, letting it all out. “When Tamlin gave us the money and Nesta, Elain and I lived in that house, the two of you barely ever spoke to me. After Elain and Nesta were thrown into the cauldron, no one even batted an eye once I was thrown in. None of you even cared even though I was screaming for someone to save me.”
“Of course we care, Y/N,” Nesta spoke up.
“You all have a funny way of showing it,” Y/N answered. “When everything was over I thought that I could have my sisters back, I thought that we could finally be a family after everything. But I was wrong, you all had someone who you valued over me. At first it didn;t bother me. I know that once you all had your mates, I wouldn’t be at the top of your priority list but I seemed to be right at the bottom.”
Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to stop them. “None of you told me that Feyre could have died from childbirth.”
The Inner Circle were silent. 
“When Feyre stopped by a few days ago, I was happy. I thought that you had come to talk to me and catch up but the only thing you did was tell me about this ball where my presence wouldn’t even be missed if I hadn’t attended.”
“Y/N, we are sorry you feel this way but do you realise who you are dancing with–”
Y/N cut Rhysand off with a scoff. “I just poured my heart out to all of you and that is all you have to say. Did any of you even notice me leave earlier? I think not. Eris followed me and was the one to ask if I was okay. He was the one who actually listened and took notice of me.”
“Y/N, we can talk about this back home,” Feyre said.
“Home? Velaris has never been my home,” Y/N said. “All of you made sure of that when you forgot I existed.”
“We didn’t forget about you, Y/N,” Elain piped up. “We love you.”
Y/N shook her head and hardly wiped the tears away. “If you loved me, you would act like it. You would check in on me from time to time. You would invite me to your family dinners that I never get an invite to. You would act like my sisters and not strangers. None of you were there when I needed you most.”
A tear slipped down Feyre’s cheek as she looked at her sister. “I am so sorry, Y/N. Please forgive us. Come home, we can make this right.”
Y/N shook her head. “I am staying here.”
Everyone looked surprised, even Eris, whose arm hadn’t left Y/N’s waist. 
“You are not staying here, Y/N,” Rhysand said. “As your High Lord–”
“You are going to command me to come back with you?” Y/N said. “Really, Rhysand, after all of that?”
“If I may interject,” Eris spoke up as Rhysand shot him daggers. “If Y/N does not want to return to you, I will have a room set up for her here and she will be looked after until she wishes to return.”
“She is not staying–”
“I am!” Y/N exclaimed. “I am staying here because Eris has been the only one to not make me feel invisible and useless.”
“Y/N, please,” Feyre said, her final attempt to try and convince Y/N.
Y/N shook her head. “I would prefer to stay here, at least until I am ready to see you all again.”
“How long will that be?” Elain asked. 
“I don’t know,” Y/N responded and Eris gently squeezed her waist in reassurance. 
Feyre nodded. “If that is what you wish, Y/N.”
“It is,” Y/N said. “Now please, leave me alone.”
Y/N turned on her heel and walked down the hallway until she was out of sight. 
Once she was around the corner, Y/N finally let out a sob, the weight was gone from her chest but at a cost. Her sisters probably hated her now. But she couldn’t stay in the Night Court, she didn’t belong there. It wasn’t her home and would never be her home. 
“Are you okay?” Eris asked, appearing behind her. 
Y/N tried to quiet her sobs but failed. 
Eris was by her side in an instant with his arms wrapped around her, chin resting on top of her head. Y/N immediately felt safe and secure in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and held onto him tightly. The bond connecting the two filled Y/N with an emotion she couldn’t place. 
“They left,” Eris muttered. “They won’t bother you anymore.”
“Is it true?” Y/N said, pulling away from him to gaze up at him, her eyes bloodshot. “Can I really stay here?”
“For as long as you like,” Eris replied, brushing her tears away. 
“And what of the bond?” Y/N asked.
“That can be your decision,” Eris said. “If you choose to accept it or not, you will have a place at the Autumn Court.”
Y/N nodded. “Thank you, I have only just met you but you have been so kind to me.”
Eris smiled. “You need not thank me for that. You deserve kindness.”
Y/N rested her hand over his heart. “As do you, Eris.”
Eris pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can show you to your room if you wish.”
“But what about the party?” Y/N questioned.
“Who cares?” Eris said. “My priority is to make sure that you are okay and looked after if you are staying here. I am not going to let my mate in just any room here, I will make sure you have the most luxurious one, right after mine, of course.”
Y/N laughed for what felt like the first time in a while. Eris smiled at the sound.
“Thank you, Eris,” Y/N said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
Eris laced their fingers together and squeezed her hand and led her down the hallway. Y/N squeezed his hand back and happily walked alongside him. No longer would she be overlooked, not when she had Eris by her side.
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
jeannineee · 7 months
Note
Could you do headcanons on the Bat Boys + Lucien and Eris where reader puts them on a sex ban? Like how would long would they last until they start basically begging reader to let them touch reader.
I feel like Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t last that long and start trying to find ways to get reader give in lol.
Sex Ban with the ACOTAR Men…
a/n: this was actually really funny to write
nsfw under the cut (18+ please)
Rhysand:
He’s lasting maybe a week. MAYBE.
Rhys would also be cocky enough to think that you weren’t serious about banning sex
And then he’d be shocked when you follow through
He’d pretend to be unbothered
But he’d quickly turn to endless flirting to try and make you change your mind—mostly with his daemati abilities.
You’d be at an inner circle meeting or at lunch with friends and he’d send mental images of him fucking you, or you on your knees for him, etc.
“I bet you miss feeling me inside you,” he’d say into your mind.
You’re not leaving the bedroom for a couple of days when you finally lift the ban
Cassian:
Poor Illyrian baby isn’t making it more than a single day
He has a high sex drive so this would be a nightmare for him LMAO
He definitely pouts. Not obnoxiously, but he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind, placing wet kisses along the crook of your neck, murmuring how much he wants to feel you wrapped around his cock.
And when you say no, he continues telling you all the filthy things he wants to do you, smirking as he scents your arousal.
Tons of lingering touches—a kiss on the cheek, or a light squeeze on your ass as he walks by you.
When he’s finally had enough he’ll press his hardness into you from behind, practically whining.
And the way he nips at your ear makes it almost impossible to deny him.
Azriel:
He could wait for quite some time, honestly.
He has the self-control for it!!
However!! The longer you make him wait? The longer he edges you when you finally give in.
MAN he would have a field day when you finally lifted the ban.
He’d waste zero time in tying you up, be it with rope or his shadows.
For Azriel, he gets a lot of pleasure just from watching your pleasure. So he’d bring you to the edge, be it with his tongue, his cock, his fingers.
Only to pull away at the last moment. He wouldn’t stop until you’re begging him.
And boy does he love to hear you beg!!
Once he finally lets you come, he’s overstimulating you too.
He’s a lil mean but we love it.
Lucien:
Like Azriel, I feel like he could wait quite a while.
But he tries his absolute hardest to get you to break!!
Whispering what he wants to do to you when the two of you are at an important meeting or out in public, where you can do nothing about it.
Walking around the house shirtless—bonus points if he just finished showering or working out.
He definitely gets a bit more touchy than usual, constant hugs and kisses.
But when he’s finally had enough, this male is not above begging.
Good luck walking the morning after you finally give in ❤️
Eris:
He could go maybe two weeks before he becomes feral.
Definitely uses touch as a way to try and get you to give in.
Heated makeouts, his tongue exploring your mouth, as his thumbs caress your nipples; grinding against you, etc.
And then he’ll grumble when you deny him.
“Don’t forget how easily I can turn you into a mess,” he’ll say.
He definitely proves that statement when you end the ban!!
When you finally end the ban, he draws at least 3 orgasms from you back to back, and makes you beg for each one.
1K notes · View notes
milswrites · 10 days
Text
The Bat Boys X Bookworm!Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: What the Bat Boys (and Eris & Lucien) are like with their bookworm partners
Warnings: Lil smutty and nsfw (not too much just want to cover myself) so 18+ MDNI
Notes: Just a bit of fun really, it's different to what I usually write but I hope you guys like it!
Rhysand
Rhysand loves you
And if loving you means that he has to feed your obsession with buying books?
Then he would happily clear out all the bookshops in Velaris if it meant getting to see you smile.
Rhysand is rich-rich.
Which means if there's something you want? He'll buy it for you without question.
You once mentioned about how much you'd love your own library one day.
So of course by the end of the week you had your own little haven inside Rhysand's house with more books than you could ever dream of reading and your own little ladder to reach them all.
But he didn't stop there.
For your mating gift he purchased you your very own library in Velaris
In which Rhys may or may not have enacted his fantasies of sleeping with a Librarian.
Whilst Rhysand does like to read, his taste in books is very different to your own.
But even though he doesn't read the books you do, he's more than happy to sit and listen to you talk about your favourite ones for hours if that meant being able to see your eyes light up as you talked about something you loved.
But no books nor libraries could top the best gift he had ever given you.
A hand-written book containing the story of your relationionship.
Complete with crude little comments and drawings the High Lord had scribbled down in the margins.
Rhysand loved history.
So what better way to preserve his undying love for you than in-between the pages of a book which would last forever.
Cassian
Cassian had never been very interested in books.
He'd much rather experience the thrill of real fighting and action in person than spend his time reading about it on some dusty old pages.
In fact the only time Cassian had been in a library he had the terrifying encounter with Bryaxis.
Safe to say that the trauma he experienced was the perfect excuse for never stepping in one again.
Until he met you.
Cassian has always been the type of guy who's all in or nothing.
He discovers the person he has a crush on likes reading?
You know he's going to be walking around with books he's never even opened pretending like he is a well-read Illyrian.
Citing quotes he doesn't even understand just to try and impress you.
And once you're together?
You show Cassian exactly what he's missed out on when it comes to reading.
Especially when it comes to getting tips for your bedroom activities.
For months after you revealed to him the wonders that are smut books, Cassian would spend his free time delving through the pages looking for new ideas on how to spice up your sex life.
Claiming his increased interest in reading was due to 'research purposes'
Cassian is 100% down to roleplay characters from your novels
He loves being the big strong hero to your damsel.
Whenever Cassian catches you reading, happily curled into the comfort of your sofa, he'll approach with a smirk on his lips
"Any new tricks you'd like to try out? I think page 69 is worth a shot."
Azriel
Azriel's a busy guy.
He's always away on missions for Rhysand or working in the dungeons of the Court of Nightmare's
So he can be forgiven if when he comes home, reading is the last thing on his mind.
But what he does enjoy though, is when you read to him.
He can lay with his head in your lap for hours.
Humming along to whatever tale you tell whether it's fantasy, romance or a good thriller
Sometimes he'll even offer his input. Laugh when something especially funny happens or shed a tear whenever a character he likes died.
Azriel loves the sound of your voice
Enjoying the way you put on voices whenever a character is speaking.
He's grown to like the sense of domesticity that he feels whenever you read to him. Allowing himself to imagine you doing this to two little Illyrian babies of your own.
Reading to your wide eyed children as they are gripped by the tales you're telling
Azriel is also a gentleman.
Need a hand with carrying the books you're choosing whilst you shop?
He's there
Hands willingly taking everything you stack on top of him, trailing after you with your selections like a lost puppy.
And when you get to the till?
Azriel had already spoken to the shopkeeper upon entry and added anything you chose to his account. Claiming the books were just as much his as they were yours if you were going to read them to him.
Azriel is definitely the type of male who likes you to read your smut to him as he pleasures you, acting out the words on the page until you're unable to speak anymore, leaving the rest of the chapter to your own imagination.
Eris
Eris is a reader.
He loves nothing more than to settle down after a long day with a good book in hand and a steaming tea.
You can't tell me he doesn't find it the hottest thing ever when he discovers you like to read too
The two of you have your own little book club
You'll each read the same book and then have a little meeting when it's over to discuss what you thought of it.
He can also get really emotional and intense about them.
God knows the amount of times you've had to calm him down when a character has made a choice he didn't like.
I think Eris definitely likes to write too
Not seriously, but it's a good way for him to get his thoughts out and to escape from the day to day of his reality.
And he loves to have you read his work
To see the way your face lights with joy as your eyes flick through his beautiful prose.
A small smile upon his lips at the knowledge that the muse for his writings was you.
Lucien
Lucien also likes to read.
But the way you read?
It terrifies him.
The way you obsess over the characters from your stories.
Your passionate opinions on their decisions and the plots.
God forbid Lucien says something about them that you don't agree with.
Lucien finds you positively feral when it comes to the stories you like.
But that doesn't stop him from wanting to show interest in them too.
Lucien likes to read all your favorite books and leave annotations of his thoughts in the margins.
This was exactly how the two of you had gotten together, the male having gifted you with a copy of a book he had noticed you reading.
The pages filled with scratchy comments and opinions on everything that happened.
Lucien pours his soul into his annotations and you love that.
Lucien is also a poetry man.
He loves to recite verses to you which stick out to him
Sometimes they were romantic, making your heart stop in your chest and breath catch in your throat.
But Lucien was also a fan of satirical poetry
The most ridiculous, corny things you have ever heard.
He'll come find you as you're going about your day and recite his latest read to you - your eyes rolling to the back as you did so, yet you fail to hide the smile which crosses your face every time he does so.
He has also tried to write you poetry before, express the depth of his feelings towards you. Safe to say his lame attempt of a limerick earnt him a scoff and had you hiding all his poetry books from him for the next month.
636 notes · View notes
thehighladywrites · 3 months
Text
ACOTAR MEN X READER, USING DOE EYES ON THEM
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: you give them doe eyes in order to persuade them into whatever you want
warnings: nsfw, suggestiveness
amara’s note: i love them holy shit but my fav one this time is eris🥹🥹
Tumblr media
Rhysand:
Looks down at you with amusement
He knows what you’re trying to do
“ come on rhyssssss, just one tiny mission. I promise I’ll be super careful, baby”
Unbeknownst to you he agreed the second you asked since he can’t really say no to you
But he loves to see just how desperate you’ll get, how much you’ll beg him.
And paired with those docile eyes? Yeah he’s a goner.
He might seem composed and calm on the outside, but trust me that man is panicking
Rhysand knows he’ll say yes to anything, obey you in every way when you flash him those eyes.
“Okay, but please be careful. If you feel your shoulder hurt again, come home. Abandon the mission and prioritize yourself, do you hear me?”
The moment the words leave his mouth, it hits him like a brick that he agreed to give you a mission when you've barely recovered from an injury.
He never fails to be surprised by your ability to controll him
You words and eyes are powerful indeed…
Azriel:
You’d think he’d have some sort of resistance or something but no
If anything, he folds the quickest of them all
“ Az, could i please-”
“ Yes ”
He doesn’t even let you finish talking, he just looked into your begging eyes and said yes to whatever it is you wanted
There isn’t a thing on this planet that he wouldn’t do for you
But when you pair it with those doe eyes, standing shorter than him as you look up through your lashes with a slight tilt in your head, lips pouting, he gets hard
You look so submissive and innocent, it sparks something primal in him.
“You don’t have to ask me for things, my love, just tell me whatever it is you want and need.”
He’s grabbing you by your waist, pullling you in closer as he kisses you with need.
I’m so serious, this man is down bad
Cassian
He's been working late every day for two weeks, and you've had enough. You miss your mate, and you want him close.
Clad in a slutty little nightgown that screamed ‘give me attention’ , you sauntered into his office
At first, irritation crashes over you like a rogue wave because he isn’t even bothering to lift his head when he greets you. So, you declare it's time for a hands-on approach to spice up the scene.
Rounding his chair, you stand behind him, and with expert hands, you start giving his stiff shoulders a massage. His groans reverberate through the room.
"That feels so good, sweets," his voice is raspy and laced with exhaustion.
Smiling to yourself, your hands travel further down to his chest, where you attempt to unbutton his shirt.
He grabs your wrist, smirking, and drags you so you’re in front of him, raising an eyebrow at your bold move.
Cassian's brain short-circuits as you stand there with big eyes, begging for attention, and then lower yourself to your knees, looking up at him.
“ baby, i missed you so much. Please let me take care of you…”
Stunned, he's left speechless, resorting to a simple nod in response.
Safe to say, you were both pleased and relieved by the end of it all
Lucien:
He isn’t stupid, he KNOWS you use your eyes to get your way
But he literally doesn’t care, he’ll give in to you
He likes watching you work for it though
Standing before him, hands innocently behind your back, you arch your back, pushing your chest out, your eyes widening with a mix of need and desire. Your lips form a seductive pout, silently pleading for him to sweep you away to The Continent.
“is that how you ask for something, my love?”
He's feral, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he watches you, curious to see how far you'll go for a yes.
Little do you know, he's already packed your bags, setting the stage for a surprise journey.
“Please, Luc, I really wanna come with you. Let me convince you.”
You got him WHIPPED, like he’s panicking inside, fucking sweating
“Yeah? How will you convince me?”
Stepping closer to him, you whisper your deprived thoughts, reveling in the way he shudders
Yeah…
You were limping on your trip
Eris:
Eris had never felt so… conflicted in his life
He had never bent over backwards for someone or even let anyone occupy his mind the way you do
The first time you used your eyes to persuade him, he nearly stumbled backward, then attempted to ignore you because he felt weak.
Eris had no idea eyes could be so powerful, and he had a feeling he’d say yes to absolutely everything and anything you wanted
After a few times, he stopped feeling so conflicted and started looking forward to your little manipulation sessions
You had attempted to seduce him all day, but he insisted on working, especially since he had recently ascended to the position of High Lord and had a mountain of paperwork to tackle.
Walking into his office, you strutted around, touching his belongings and casually perusing through the documents on his desk.
Eventually, you got closer to his table and bent over, acting like you needed something.
Eris looked up only to be met with a sight full of your tits. Sighing, he looked up at you with a secret smile,
“I know what you’re doing, sweet thing.”
“ What? Is it a crime to help my mate with his work?”
You look at him with round eyes, your head slightly lowered as your eyes do the talking
His eyes, simmering with desire, traced every curve of your form as a sultry smile played on his lips, creating tension that sizzled with heat.
“Do you remember the last time you gave me those eyes, love?”
Fuck yeah, you do. He had fucked you stupid for hours, in every part of the Forrest House, showing you new levels of pleasure you hadn’t even considered, eyes rolling into the back of your head everytime he pumped into you
Your body shuddered at the memory, body aching for more. Giving him your most desperate, doe-eyed expression, you ask your mate for more
“What if I want it to happen again?”
Giving you a once over with raised brows, his handsome face breaks into a foxy smile as he signals you to come closer
Biting your lips to hide your smile, you oblige, helping him relieve his tension and stress
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes