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dragon-kazansky · 8 months ago

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Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

Now awake, it is time to rebuild The Dreaming. The Corianthian is still loose in The Waking World, and Morpheus is trying to make up for lost time. Your husband has a lot to learn.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Starts off pretty steamy.

Chapter Four - Never let go

☆☆☆

Morpheus and you did not leave that room for several hours. Matthew had offered to come fetch you both, but Lucienne advised Matthew to leave you both for a while. There was a lot of time to be made up for.

Matthew understood what she meant.

You lay in the bed as you look up at your husband. He hovers over you, looking at you with soft blue eyes. She reaches out to touch his bare shoulder, stroking along his neck with gentle fingers.

He leans in and kisses your lips softly. You listen to quiet breaths as his lips move from your lips to your neck. His hair tickles your chin as he moves further down to your collarbone.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as his lips move down to your chest. His kisses are soft and warm. They have been missed dearly.

Though you have no aspect of time passing, he has spent a century locked away put of reach. He has felt every second pass by without you.

No longer.

You gasp softly as he moves further down. He commiting every inch of you to memory. It almost feels like he had never been away at all.

You become a tangle of limbs as the kissing turns into something greater.

It only after, when you're laying naked and wrapped up in one another, that you finally get the chance to speak. You have reunited and in the best way possible.

"Tell me what happened."

Morpheus presses his lips to the top of your head as he recalls all that has happened. He tells you of the moment he was captured, his escape, Gregory, Constantine, his trip to Hell, and to moment he got his full power back.

"Oh no, Jessamy..."

"I am sorry. She tried to help me."

"Do not apologise. She was very brave. She made us both proud."

He kisses your head again. "I have Matthew now."

"Good. You need a raven."

"I do not need a raven."

"You are the dream lord, and the dream lord has a raven."

He sighs in defeat. He knows he can not argue this with you.

"Very well."

You chuckle softly.

"I am sorry about your ruby."

"Why?" He asks, brows knitting together. "My power was released back into me after it was shattered. I am whole again. I am the one who is sorry. I lost my ring."

You look at his hand.

"Make a new one."

"It won't be the same."

"It doesn't have to be. Morpheus, you don't need a ring to show you are mine. You just need to love me."

"I do. I do love you."

You smile and reach up to stroke his cheek. He tilts his head into your palm, chasing your touch. He needs your warmth.

"I am sorry for leaving."

"Morpheus, if you apologise one more time, I'm going to push you out of the bed."

He chuckles softly and leans in, kissing your lips. "No, you won't."

You smile as you return his kiss. "You're right I won't."

☆☆☆

You walk hand in hand with Morpheus into the throne room. It hasn't yet been rebuilt. You smile as you approach Lucienne and Matthew. You reach let go of Morpheus to reach for Lucienne's hands.

"Lucienne."

"My lady," she smiles and bow her head.

You chuckles and wraps your arm around her. She is caught off guard for a moment but accepts your hug. You take her hands into yours again and smile at her. "Thank you."

"What for, my lady?"

"For looking after everything. For looking after me."

Lucienne looks a little awe struck.

"I heard you. I could hear you talking to me. Though my slumber was without dreams, I could hear your voice."

"My lady..."

"You stayed. You looked after me. Looked after the realm. I can not thank you enough for that."

Lucienne adjusts her glasses. "It was the least I could do."

You shake your head. "It was everything. I am honoured to have you as my friend and companion here."

Lucienne smiles.

"My husband is grateful too. He just doesn't know how to say it." You say, looking at Morpheus. He pretends not to hear you as he approaches the steps to the throne.

Your eyes turn to the raven. You smile as you gaze down at him.

"You must be Matthew. Its nice to meet you."

"You too, my lady." He bows his head with respect.

You look back up at Morpheus as he stands with his hand open and slightly raised at his sides. He takes a few deep breaths. You remain standing with Lucienne and Matthew as Morpheus uses his power to rebuild The Dreaming. He starts with the throne room.

The rubble and glass lift from the ground and slowly start to return to where they once were. Walls are rebuilt, the windows are mended, and the floors become clear of any debris. Bit by bit, the palace is put back together.

Morpheus lowers his arms and looks up at you. "The rest will be rebuilt in time."

You smile softly. "Take your time. Don't overdo it."

"Do I ever?"

"Sometimes."

Morpheus smiles softly at you and returns to your side. "We should take a walk."

You reach for his hand and then turn back to Lucienne. "I'll catch up with you again later."

She nods once and watches you walk out of the throne room with Morpheus.

☆☆☆

"Where are we going?"

"For a walk."

"Yes, but where?" You chuckle softly. Morpheus looked at you with a tesing smile. It wasn't often he did smile, but you found it easy to make him do so.

"To see some friends."

You chuckles as you follow him.

It's only when you see the two houses that you smile and let go of his hand. You hurry on ahead.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

You wait a few moments before the doors open on each house. A head pops out of each. You smile at the brothers.

Cain and Abel exit their houses and approach you.

"You're awake!" Abel smiles. "My lady."

The brothers both bow to her.

"It's good to see you both again." You smile at the pair of them. The brothers look at each other and then back at you.

"We're so glad you're awake!" Abel cheers.

"Yes. It is good news indeed."

"I want to apologise for Gregory, but he helped Morpheus greatly by what he did. It was very brave of you to let him go."

The two fall quiet.

"But I also hear you got a new friend." You smile.

"He's called Goldie." Abel calls for him. The baby gargoyle comes over. You chuckle softly.

"Hello Goldie."

The little gargoyle makes a little noise.

Morpheus just watches you silently from behind. You talk a little more with Abel and Cain and then take his hand once more. You wave to the brothers as you both walk away.

☆☆☆

"Fiddler's Green is gone?" You ask, looking at the vacant space the beautiful meadow once was.

"It seems he took his leave after I did not return."

You turn to Morpheus. "You blame yourself?"

"He never leaves his post before."

"Morpheus, it's not your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself."

"Everything happened because I left."

"No. No." You shake your head as you reach for his hand and hold them close to your chest. "I blame The Corianthian. If he had not left for the Waking World, you wouldn't have had to chase after him. You wouldn't have been trapped."

"We don't know that," he says.

"Let me have faith in the fact that it was just one thing after another. Things just did not go to plan, and a century was robbed from us. We're together again now."

"But he still out there," Morpheus reminds you.

"Yes, and you also have all your power back. You will find him again. I am certain of it."

Morpheus falls quiet. You reach out and caress his cheek softly. "Please don't blame yourself any more."

He says nothing as he looks at you. You do the only thing you can think of to cheer him up. You lean in and kiss him softly. You feel Morpheus melt as your lips touch his.

He's very soft when it comes to his wife.

"Everything will be okay. Let's take one issue at a time."

He nods softly.

You smile and kiss him again.

☆☆☆

The library had returned. Lucienne was beyond pleased, but that meant she had a lot of work on her hands. You offered to help her. At first, she refused your help, but you insisted. Lucienne lost that battle.

Books were stacked everywhere. You helped Lucienne take account of all the books that had returned. There are so many dreams, so many lives.

Matthew was perched on the table. He would fly off to find other books Lucienne asked for. It was quite nice spending time with them like this.

"So this is where you disappeared too."

You smile as you look up and find your husband walking over. You left his side about an hour ago while he went off to rebuild some more of The Dreaming.

"I figured I'd let you concentrate."

"That you did, but I found myself missing you when I was done. Having spent a century away from you, I dare not wish to spend another second apart."

You chuckle softly and glance at your companions. Lucienne is pretending not to listen, and Matthew isn't even attempting to pretend.

"Is that so?"

"Do you not feel the same?" He asks softly.

You look back at him. "Of course I do. Morpheus, I slept through that century, but believe me, knowing we spent that century apart breaks my heart." You walk closer to him and take his hands in yours.

"I'm sorry I keep mentioning it."

"What did I tell you about apologising?" She chuckle.

He smiles. "You'll push me out of our bed."

"Yes. Now hush. I think Lucienne and Matthew can take it from here. How about we go spend more time together? Assuming you're done for the day?"

He smiles again. "I would like that."

You take your leave of the library while holding his hand. Lucienne and Matthew watch you both leave.

"He seems happy," Matthew points out.

"He is," Lucienne smiles gently. "He always is when he's with her."

Matthew cocks his head to the side slightly. "I don't think I've ever seen love like that before."

"No. What they have is quite special."

☆☆☆

Morpheus stops you from walking and pulls you closer. He settles his hands on your hips and looks at you softly.

"What is it?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet.

"I just want to look at you."

You stare back at him, admiring his features, too. His pretty blue eyes, his pink lips, his strong jaw. He's handsome. A dream. A real dream.

"The entire time I was trapped, you were the only thing that kept me going. I thought about you constantly. It may sound cruel, but I am somewhat glad you slept through the whole thing. The thought of you here missing me hurt. I worried about you every single day," he confesses.

"Morpheus, you don't have to worry anymore. I am right here in front of you." You take his hands and place them on each side of your face.

"I know. I see you."

You smile and gaze into his eyes. "I see you too."

Morpheus wraps both of his long arms around you and pulls you in close to his chest. "I'm never letting go," he whispers in your ear.

You smile.

"Neither am I."

Morpheus takes the opportunity to steal another kiss from you. You happily oblige, wanting to remind your husband just how much you love him.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @emarich7 - @lollipopsandlandmines -

#symphony of dreams #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

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At Least I Keep His Eyes in My Life

Day 2 of @erisweekofficial: Childhood/legacy - You and Eris weren’t meant to be, but the red hair definitely doesn’t come from your family…..

(Also, I’m picturing Asher around like 4-5 years old, i know very little about kids this age so sorry if it seems all over the place)

Warnings: Slightly sexual content, emotional infidelity, cheating, childbirth

WC: 5.7k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears (find the post here)

You were giggling like you were a teenager again. Sneaking out in the dead of night, cloak pulled tight against your head to block out the sparse light from the lanterns on the street. The temple was within your sight now and your heart was beating into your throat. You could very well get killed for what you were about to do but it would be worth it.

The door was slightly opened, leaving you the opportunity to slip in without making a sound. The tiny light seeping through a door in the back led you to where you needed to go.

The room was small, the fire keeping out the chill of the winter night. Those amber eyes filled with a softness reserved only for you as you walked into the room. Your smile was so wide that it made your jaw hurt, but nothing could wipe it from your face. Not when you finally dropped your cloak and saw the tears well in Eris’ eyes. The emerald dress you had worn on your first date all those years ago had you blushing as you remembered how it felt for his lips to be on yours for the first time.

You had never been happier in all your life than when the priestess joined your hands with that red ribbon. When you felt the pattern burn into your finger, right where your ring would sit once Eris was High Lord. Promises of your life together flowed from your lips like honey wine. Sweet and warm in the small space. Eris took your face between his hands like you were the most delicate flower in the world, his lips tasting like the tart red wine you two shared with each other. When you looked into his eyes, you saw your whole life. Your past together, your present joy, and all the love the future promised to bring you.

That night was the best of your life. Eris whispering every promise on your skin as you too celebrated in your own way. Wrapped in each other until it was impossible to tell where you ended and he started. But the morning came too fast. The sun wiping away the joy as you realized you would have to go back to court and pretend that you didn’t know every piece of Eris’ soul. The scent shield hiding all evidence that you were Eris’ and he was yours. You parted with a long kiss that was tinged with sadness. But also the reminder that you would see him again once the sun set. The only time you were free to love him unashamedly.

------

You should have known the mother was being far too kind to you. You should be grateful that you ever got to pretend that Eris was yours. Be grateful for that one little moment of happiness you had been granted. It was more than you ever deserved in this life.

Eris had been walking with you through the long hallways of the Autumn court palace. Your laughter flitting through the empty space, carrying through the halls like a symphony that was all of Eris’ composition.

But something suddenly felt very wrong. Eris had gone wholly still next to you, his joke dying on his tongue. You looked at him and could only watch in horror as you followed his eye line. He dropped your hand quickly, letting it hang limply by your side devoid of his calming warmth. It was like you could see that golden thread as it stretched across the room. Tying Eris not to you, but to some other lady of the court. Her eyes were wide as saw the same string that tied her to Eris, to your husband, at the same time he did. Your heart shattered on the floor as the female in front of you all but squealed with joy. There was not a touch of warmth coming off of Eris right now. Too frozen to go after the girl that was inevitably running to tell her friends what had just happened. You wanted to run after her, to beg her to be silent but your begging would only prompt her to tell more people. So you only stood in the wallway, watching as every thought of your future came shattering down around you.

Your own mating bond snapped not long after. Only adding to the agony that seemed to follow your every breath. Throwing the final handful of dirt on the possibility of any future with Eris in it. You had been visiting the day court for a personal matter. Seeing an old friend's new babe. The feeling of love that the couple shared pushed you towards one of the many bars in day.

You never assumed you would have a mate. The thought of ever loving someone the way you loved Eris, of being tied to someone like that was utterly ridiculous.

-------------------------------------------------

Eris and you had snuck away for the second time in as many days. With his mating ceremony rapidly approaching, there was less and less time for the two of you to be together alone. He traced over the spot on your finger where your marriage ceremony mark was, the one that proved to you exactly where his heart laid.

“We should just run away. Leave all of this.” Eris muttered, eyes locked on those swirling patterns.

“He would find you and you know it.”

You didn’t have to say who. Eris’ father, while slightly disappointed about the outcome of the mating bond, was just happy it was within the nobility of Autumn.

“No one could change how I feel about you. Mating bond or not, it will always be you. I need you to remember that.”

—————-

It had been five years since you found your mate. He was sweet. Sweeter than you could have hoped for, but it wasn’t the love match you had dreamed up when you were little. He knew you had a hard time returning his affections. Didn’t complain when you only shared a bed with him for sleep after the mating frenzy was over. A fact he didn’t hold against you. You were from autumn. Bred to be the partner of a certain would-be high lord. It had been a disappointment to everyone when Eris’ bond snapped for someone else. It was far more than a disappointment to you. Heartbreaking. Earth shattering. An utter upheaval of your entire life. Only solidified when you bonded with Sol. The mother thought that you weren’t good enough for Eris.

——

Childbirth was one of the most painful things you had ever experienced. Sol sat through all of it with you. Sat through the screaming and you clutching his hand so tightly that you felt the bones move. You would apologize if it wasn’t taking every ounce of your focus to remember to push.

“Just one more big one. I can see the head.” And you wanted to cry. Maybe you were crying but you found it in yourself to bear down for one last push. There was silence in the room for a heartbeat before a perfectly healthy wail pierced the air. Your head fell back on the pillow at the sound, breathing for the first time in what felt like hours.

You heard faint whispers coming from the healers in between your legs. But you were too exhausted to truly care what they were saying. Just relieved for it to be all over, for the babe that you were now cradling in your arms. Still covered in afterbirth, you had decided that nothing in the world had ever been as beautiful as your son. Your heart warmed as you saw those amber eyes staring back at you. Amber eyes. The thought was enough to send a cold chill over your whole body. As you looked into those eyes that absolutely did not belong to you, or your mate. Your hands shook as you peeled back the blanket enough to spot the matching mahogany curls, however sparse, there was no denying the color. Your throat felt stiff, breathing became difficult. You felt Sol move to your side, feeling your flood of emotions through the bond.

“Darling, it’s only normal to feel overwhelmed, you just-” His words cut off with a ragged breath as he saw the same thing you did. The silence filled the room as he must have been doing the same mental math you were. You felt the rush of his emotions down the bond. Shock, betrayal. And then something unexpected, acceptance.

“He is beautiful.” Was all he said.

“Sol-” He held up a hand to cut off the apology on your tongue. Because that’s what you should be doing. You should be groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness. He could kill you right on the spot as well as your babe. The babe that was undeniably not his. That looked so much like the newly crowned High Lord, it burned the edge of the scar in your heart that had only just begun to heal. How could you ever forget him now? This child was supposed to be the start of your new life. The proof that you needed to tell yourself that Sol was the one that you were supposed to end up with. This future was no longer supposed to be yours. The future that you dreamed of in that small run down temple. That was a life that had been erased from your story.

“What should we name him?” Was all Sol said as he looked down at the child.

“Asher.” You didn’t hesitate. Sol didn’t even blink at the autumn court name. He only nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead.

You were about to say something else when the babe in your arms began to fuss and you quickly pushed him into your chest, instantly soothing him as he began to nurse. This many emotions should be impossible to feel all at once. You should feel mortified. You should be ashamed but some mascostic part of you was overjoyed. You could keep some part of the love of your life with you. While you might never be able to see what Eris would be as a father, you would get to see just exactly what his son would be like. And you could only clutch your babe further to your chest as you mourned the future that the mother destined had not been you before in the same breath, you thanked the mother for her small mercies.

———

You never thought you would be back in the Autumn court. Having moved to Day with your mate, you left without a second thought. But standing amongst the rich colors and ripe scent of your home court, you realized how much you had missed it. As you walked down the street, holding your son tight to your chest, your mate's hand in the other, your mind started to wonder. You and Eris used to run up and down these streets. There was so much light in them now. Boarded up windows now overflowing with flowers and flickering lights from fireplaces. This was nothing like the court you had fled from. Eris had changed so much in only a handful of years, just like he said he would. “I’ll make this a court something you would be proud of, something deserving of your beauty” Eris had whispered against your skin the night before it all went to hell, the night you had conceived the small child currently pulling on your hair.

“Behave.” You said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as Asher giggled at you, pressing his face against your neck. The motion tugged on the edges of the thick hat that was covering his head. Sol didn’t hesitate to right it, placing a quick kiss to your cheek to cover the motion. It was chilly enough that the hat would have been necessary anyway, especially since the day court tended to be on the warmer side.

Your bags were brought up to your room in the palace the moment you arrived, which had prompted your idea of showing Sol around the streets you had once been so familiar with. A small part of your heart ached when you saw the new shops and heard the shouts of children. Sounds that once would have caused sharp commands of keeping quiet, sounds that would have caused fear of drawing the wrong attention. If this was so unfamiliar, a part of you wondered what else had changed. Would you even recognize the high lord you were attending the party of?

The thoughts bounced around in your head, uncomfortable. You had almost thought of denying the invitation when it arrived, held it over the flames with every intention of dropping it in but it felt like the coward's option. Sol was expected to go to events such as this as part of his duties as one of the many researchers for the day court. Knowledge collectors that would frequent other courts, trading for any information to add to the sprawling libraries of the court. Your mate had told you plenty of times that he would understand if you didn’t want to come, your son was young enough that wherever you went, he would come as well. You brushed it off, but now standing in the cobblestone streets, you were kicking yourself for not accepting his offer.

After your stroll in the city, it was time to start getting ready for dinner. Much to your surprise there was a gown already laid out on the bed. Your chest felt tight as you stared at the dark green fabric. You shook your head to hold back the tears that were threatening to ruin your makeup. The fabric felt familiar on your skin. Sol said nothing about the gown that you most certainly didn’t pack, only offered his hand out. “You look radiant.” He brought your hand up to his lips when you placed yours against his. You could only smile up at him, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremble of your fingers.

The walk to the dining room was something that you could have done in your sleep. But, just like the city outside, the palace was so different that it had you doubting your steps. Although, it seemed your memory hadn't failed you because soon you were greeted with those carved doors that swirled like the leaves in an autumn storm.

You had pleaded with your mother to let you skip the dinner. You had heard the whisperings of how cruel the high lord and his sons were. Honestly, you were scared of meeting them. Meeting him. Your betrothed. The words felt weird in your brain. You knew very well what that would mean and it didn’t all sound appealing. Your mother was having none of your whining, forcing the laces on your corset tighter still. The air rushed out of your lungs at the harsh pull, your hand on your bedpost was the only thing that stopped you from crashing back into her. She led you, snapping at you to calm the trembling in your hands. “You do not show weakness.” was the mantra she lived by. Power hungry since her birth, you were a way to gain power and you knew that from a young age. The doors of the dining room entered before you, interrupting the patterns you were following with your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down. It was clear you had stumbled upon an argument, the high lord's face was tenser than you had seen it previously. He was staring daggers at what you could only assume was one of his sons, if the red hair was any indication.

Your eyes followed his and you fought the shock off of your face. Saying he was handsome was an understatement. Even through his anger he was gorgeous. Curly red hair was pulled back from his face, stray pieces framing his face. The deep emerald shirt he wore made the smattering of freckles on his face almost glow in contrast. When his amber eyes turned to you, you quickly looked to the ground. Embarrassed you had been caught staring so intently.

Your mother introduced you quickly. The high lord stood in front of you, appraising you. A hand reached out to grab a lock of your hair and every part of you went deathly still. You fought the flinch as he stepped away from you. “You’ll do. Now, I would like to introduce my son. Your future husband, Eris.” Against your will, you smiled warmly at him as the handsome male rose to his feet. He grabbed your hand and placed a light kiss to your knuckles before he guided you to your seat beside him.

——

You didn’t have to search for him. You knew you would have found him in any room, no matter the crowd. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you were suddenly unable to look away from the high lord in front of you. It was so much harder than you had thought it would have been. Seeing him, that crown on his head. That was when a motion by his side caught your attention, brought you back to the present. His mate was beautiful, hair perfectly curled, sweeping down across her shoulders. A nasty part of you thought how washed out the maroon dress made her. It didn’t go with her light green eyes, her fair blonde hair. You pushed down the cruel thoughts and focused on the pressure of Sol’s hand on yours. Eris only gave you a beaming smile before you turned your head away from him. The only seats open were closer to his end of the table and you quickly sat yourself down. Placing your hand in Sols

Everyone in court was here. The difference of the loud room was enough to make a smile touch your face. There were even some familiar faces, children you had been raised up with. Friends that had witnessed all of the drama that unfolded.

Dinner passed without event. Small talk became louder as more bottles of wine were shared. Sol had taken up a conversation with one of the lords that managed the farms for the autumn court healers. You did your best to join the conversation when you could add something, making a point to ignore the eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. His presence was nearly suffocating, it weighted the air, nearly choking you with the smell of him. Mercifully you made it out of dinner without having to talk to him. Sol didn’t question when you dismissed yourself the moment after dessert was served. You went to collect Asher from the room full of children, making sure his hat was still firmly seated on his head. You pulled it off when you got to your room, picking out his clothes for bed before you let him get changed. After you pulled him tight against your chest and told him one of his favorite bedtime stories and watched him drift off to sleep.

-----

You turned around a corner, not so much running but walking fast to try to get to your hiding spot in time. Asher had demanded the two of you play hide and seek after waking up early. You were more than happy to oblige the demand, telling him to count. To his credit, he had done a great job with the first few numbers. But quickly got side tracked and you heard the loud “Ready or not” echo through the halls and had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

You almost stumbled back when you crashed into a firm chest. A hand wrapped around your waist to steady you and you didn’t have to look up to know exactly who it was. You tried to step back. Tried to ignore the shot of electricity that raced through you at the touch.

“Eris.” You politely said. You tried to step around him but he moved with you. Perfectly mirroring your movement.

“I didn’t get to speak to you last night.” His voice was like a balm to you, even now. Your ears seemed to perk up at the sign, instantly searching for it even when he had stopped talking.

“It didn’t feel..appropriate.”

“Why wouldn’t it? We were friends our whole childhood. There's nothing wrong with friends catching up.”

“Because we were..” You couldn’t form the words.

“More than friends?”

“Yes, Eris.” You sighed heavily. You didn’t want to be having this conversation in the middle of the palace. “Now please. I-”

He wrapped a soft hand around your arm and pulled you behind one of the pillars in the hallway.

“Tell me you still feel it. That pull towards each other?” He whispered, his face suddenly so close to yours that you could count his freckles.

Eris pulled you tight against him. Every inch of him pressing against you. Your heartbeat sped up despite yourself. “This is a horrible idea.” You spoke the words but made no effort to move, instead you leaned into the heat of him. Drinking in the stolen moments. His hand lightly brushed your chin and you allowed him to guide your head up, your lips were inches away from each other. Eris’ eyes were trained on your lips and every ounce of strength left your body at the hunger you saw in them. He moved slowly, giving you time to pull away. And you wish you could have, wish you could have done anything except press closer to him. When your lips connected it was like he had bathed you in his fire. It was heaven and hell all at once. You sucked down greedy lungfuls of his intoxicating scent, the clove and cinnamon smell you could recognize anywhere. His lips were soft and demanding. Tongue forcing your mouth open, stroking the inside of your mouth in a way that your hands reach for any part of him. His own hands had rested on the small of your back, clutching you to him. Neither of you moved to take the kiss further. It seemed to go on forever but it still wasn’t enough when you pulled away, panting for air. His hands only tightened on you when you tried to step away.

“Eris-”

“Mommy! I found you!” Both of you jumped apart.You swore you felt your heart stop. You had completely forgotten how you had ended up in the hallway in the first place, too overwhelmed with Eris’ presence. You could only stare in horror as Eris stared at the small child standing before the two of you. Eris knew you had a child, had sent you presents the weeks after to congratulate you and Sol. You forced a smile onto your face and swept your son off of his feet.

“Of course you did, my smart boy. Come on, I’ll let you hide this time.” You pulled your son tighter to you, shifting his weight to a hip. He was almost getting too big to comfortably carry.

“How high should I count?.” You asked, smiling down at him.

“A thousand.” He didn’t hesitate.

“A thousand?!” You pitched your voice up, letting him know your surprise.

“Yep. A thousand.”

“Well then you better get to hiding, I’ll be counting forever.”

“Will you play with us?” Asher asked, looking at Eris fully now. You struggled against the squirming child in your arms.

“I would lo-”

“Asher. I’m sure the high lord is very busy. Far too busy to play with us.”

“But-” Your son started to protest.

“Your mother is right. I forgot I had a meeting, but how about this, I’ll have the cooks bring up a treat to make up for my absence.” His eyes flickered to yours on the last word. “And it will allow me time to talk to your mother.”

Asher lost interest after hearing he would have a special treat, always code for something sweet. His eyes were round as saucers.

“Thank you!” He said before he turned his focus back to you. “Did you hear that mommy, I’m going to get a treat.”

“Well then we should start our next game now. It might take me until then to find you in this place.”

His giggled filled the air at the idea. You placed a kiss on his cheek before you set him down on his feet. He didn’t hesitate before he ran off in the opposite direction, legs wobbling slightly at his speed.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” You turned quickly, feeling Eris’ hand on your arm. You quickly removed it and started in the direction Asher had run off to. You couldn’t find the strength to look back and see whatever emotion was swirling in Eris’ eyes. Refused to listen to the questions that were written all over his face and went to go find your son.

It had been easy to find him. You knew every inch of this palace like the back of your hand, and had already found all the good hide and seek spots during your years spent helping Eris look for his brothers.

Sol was already in your room when you brought your bleary eyed son into the room. He was still taking naps during the day, despite how much he would fight against them. Shame suddenly creeped into you as you recalled the events from earlier. You were half expecting him to scream and yell at you, like Eris’ hand prints were burned into your skin and he would be able to tell.

“Eris came by earlier.” Your heart dropped, he knew and you haven't been the one to tell him. “He was asking a lot of questions about Asher.”

“Oh.” Was all you said as you placed your son down on his bed.

“I told him if he wanted answers, he should talk to you. To which he said, he tried and you had all but ran away.” There was no accusation in his words. Just like normal for him. He was more kind than you ever deserved.

You sighed as you softly closed the door to Asher's attached room.

“I didn’t expect it to happen like that.” You knew you needed to tell him what had happened before that. “Eris and I-”

“Whatever happened, happened. I expected something.” He sighed. “How are you feeling, I know you were trying to avoid this.”

You approached your mate, you gently placed a hand on his cheek.

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” You felt the sting of tears prickle in the back of your teeth. “I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he could stay locked in his room the whole time he was here. I just hoped that I could have controlled it, I was a little blind sided.”

“Whatever you choose to tell him, I’m beside you.” Sol looked so deep in your eyes it was like he could see through you. “No matter what you decide. I’m always here.”

“I think I need to talk to him.”

Sol only nodded. “I’ll be right here.” You placed a soft kiss on Sol’s lips. You truly didn’t deserve him.

It wasn’t hard to find Eris. He only had a few spots he went when there was something troubling him. Just outside of the grounds of the palace, the tiny garden where you two had kissed for the first time.

“Eris.” You started, suddenly not knowing what to say. He turned to face you and your heart lurched. He had been crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, truly heartbroken.

“What would it have accomplished? You have a mate, I have a mate”

“Did you know we haven’t been able to…” HIs voice trailed off before he started again. “Her sister has more kids then she knows what to do with and we just can’t. We assumed it was me.”

You couldn’t find the words to answer, not knowing what to say. Hating the images that his words painted. Of course they would have tried. Sol and you had thought you had gotten insanely lucky. Besides the initial mating frenzy, you had never slept with him. You stayed in the same bed but when you tried to be intimate with your mate it usually led to you crying, wrapped in his arms. It hurt some selfish part of you to know that Eris didn’t seem to have the same issue.

“y/-” His voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Don’t” Your voice broke, giving away the tears you were desperately fighting back. “What’s done is done. Don’t start this now.”

“I would have made you my High Lady. Did you ever question why she wasn't?”

“I didn’t think about you one way or another.” A lie. A lie that even though Eris could see right through, cut deep nonetheless.

“Not even when you look at our child?”

“My child, Eris, is none of your concern.”

He flinched then, flinched like you had slapped him.

“Does he know?” He wasn’t asking about your mate.

“Of course not. And as long as I’m alive, he never will.”

“No one has ever questioned?”

“No.”

“What happens when he starts showing the signs? The first son of a high lord will start showing powers sooner or later. Tell me, darling, has he started burning the curtains yet? Setting his clothes on fire?” You kept your face as neutral as possible. Revealing nothing. “He has. I was younger than him when I started presenting the signs. So, tell me again that you don’t think about me when you look at him. Tell me that some part of you doesn’t still love me and I will walk away right now.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He kept prying. Was trying to get those damning words out of her.

“I don’t love you. I love my child. I love my mate.”

You saw something in his face fall, a light in his eyes fade away.

“And if any part of you loves me, you’ll leave us alone. I’ll deal with the inconveniences when they present themselves.” You spit out, forcing venom to lace the words.

Eris reached for you, arms flying out to grab onto any part of the woman he still loved with all of his heart. But you were already walking away. Leaving those words hanging in the air, the threat in those words unmistakable.

You prayed you were far enough away before the sobs racked through you. They were strong enough to knock your knees out from under you but you had to get back to your room. No one in the palace could see you fall apart like this. You managed to make it to your room, sliding along the wall, knees hugged tightly against your chest. Every part of your body locked when you felt a strong hand rubbing along your back. The smell was wrong. Not cinnamon and pine, but honeysuckle and citrus. Your mate. His presence should have comforted you, and you desperately wished it would. Sol knew when you looked up at him, tears glazing your eyes, knew that whatever conversation had just occurred that it broke you. Some little part of you that you had held onto all these years, Eris had broken it. You wanted to hide it, assure your mate that he was enough. That was what you had always told yourself, told him and he gladly accepted the lie every time.

“You still love him.” Not a question. Not an accusation either. Spoken plainly like the truth it was. You nodded, sobbing so hard you retched.

“I want to go home.” You choked out, throat threatening to close.

“This is your home.” You shook your head, the words bouncing around like angry wasps.

“No. Not anymore.”

“Wherever he is, that will be your home.” There was no pain in his voice. Sol had always been too understanding, too gentle and kind. He knew from the moment he met you what Eris had meant to you. “I don’t deserve you. Either of you.”

“It was never about deserving.” Sol was on the ground in front of you. Arms wrapped around you, absorbing each shudder of your body. “You will never love me the same way. But you love me in every way that matters. So if you want to go home, then we go home. If you want to stay here, then you stay here. We’ll figure out everything else as we go.” His words only made you cry harder.

“Why do you not hate me? You’re my mate and here I am.”

“After all that you’ve sacrificed… Do you hate me?” He asked, some light teasing in his voice. You shook your head.

“How could I?”

“Exactly. Now what do you want to do?”

“I want to go home. To our home. I want to forget about all of this.” You took a deep breath, breath hitching on every lungful. “I want to learn to love you. Love us.” you looked into his eyes, warm golden eyes that you had always ignored. Now you had never been so grateful for them, golden not amber. “If you would want that.” You added. Not daring to hope that he would

Sol smiled, a real smile that filled you with warmth from the bond.

“I would like that very much.”

The pair of you just sat there. Holding each other and you said goodbye to that small part of your heart that you thought would never heal. Buried it. The ache let you know it would never be forgotten, that part of you that loved Eris so deeply it outlasted a mating bond. But you would keep a small part of him. Always. At least you could keep his eyes in your life. And wrapped in the arms of your mate, it would be enough. You would make it be enough.

#acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris acotar #erisweek2024 #eris x reader #eris angst #eris fluff #tw cheating

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coveredinsun · 2 months ago

Text

the hour of dusk and dawn

His ending had been stolen away by an awe so profound he never would have thought to break it. Before him lay a scene radiant beyond overstatement; gleaming in the sunlight of ornate Dwarven lamps carefully spaced across the roof, it were as if dawn and dusk had broken at once, in a perfect symphony.

Gimli had spoken to him, yet the words fell on deaf ears. For Legolas had been gripped by the question: how could such a place exist?

Or: Legolas, the beginning moments of his marriage to Gimli, and a sight so beautiful it changes his life.

Word Count: 9.6k

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Archive Warning: None Apply

Relationships: Gimli/Legolas; Aragorn/Arwen (background); Éowyn & Legolas; Arwen Undómiel & Legolas; Legolas & Thranduil; Gimli & Aragorn; Aragorn & Legolas

Characters: Gimli (Son of Glóin); Legolas (Tolkien); Éowyn (Tolkien); Thranduil (Tolkien); Arwen Undómiel; Aragorn (Tolkien)

this is my fic for @tolkienrsb 2024, based off the wonderful artwork ‘descent’ made by the even lovelier @elvenlair! they were so inspiring and so gracious in their colaboration. see the work below or click the link to get to its post! <333

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fanaticsnail · 7 months ago

Note

This is something I thought of but it suits the men you like more than it does mine

Imagine an au or smth in which your fave plays the cello

Now imagine y/n oc sitting on his lap, he's choking them while using a toy on them and in that position it's almost like he's playing y/n like they're a cello

I think you could do this prompt justice better than I ever could so I hope you enjoy it ✨️

Cellist Kid

Okay, but hear me out. Cellist Kid.

Cellist. Kid.

Thoughts below the cut.

Synopsis: your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Themes: afab!reader x Kid, cellist!kid x flautist!reader, choking, Kid has both hands, kissing swearing, college AU, NSFW, 18+, smut, P in V sex, drabble length, creampie, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, hate sex.

College AU with Eustass Kid wanting to practice playing electric bass, but instead joins an orchestral ensemble at his college for extra credit. They don't play metal, punk, or rock: but he absolutely has a soft spot for movie soundtracks that use heavy bass: game of thrones, lord of the rings, Narnia, all of the songs of his childhood.

He decides the closest thing to a bass is a cello. It takes him a while to understand how to use a bow, but he picks it up in no time. He enjoys this time he spends playing music, it's a way he gets to unwind and hone in on his musicality.

The only hiccup in this perfect symphony is you. Not your playing, but your attitude. You loathe him, and he despises you.

You're a flautist who often gets the lead line for the pieces because you're extremely talented and dedicated to your craft. You hang shit on Kid for joining a failing Warhammer painting group with his best friend, MSK - and he taunts you just as much for joining a Dungeons & Dragons group being ran by a DM named Usopp, an English literature major who enjoys spinning roleplaying tales.

But the more you play music together, the more the conductor of the band decides to place you two together in a more permanent way. You're perfect for each other, in your conductors opinion. The deep rattle of the bass clef played by Kid harmonises perfectly with the treble you produce with your fluttery breath and nimble fingers.

You've been aggressively quippy with each other for a few months now, the rest of the orchestra rolling their eyes every time you have a fued in front of them. Your conductor decides to place the two of you together to sort it out between you.

Now that you're in an empty classroom together, all lecturers gone for the night, the tension draws thick between you. Your snarl draws his heckles up, his growl causes your skin to ignite with disdain at him.

"What the hell is your problem with me, cellist?" You finally curse at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time in twenty minutes. He halts tuning his pegs and places his broad bow in the case at his feet.

"Could say the same for you, flooty," he spat back, his nose scrunching at you while reaching for his amber rosin.

"I hate you," you snarl at him.

"I hate you," he barked at you in response.

"I hate you first," your body moved against its will, placing your flute carefully within the hard case beside you and stomped towards him.

"I hate you second," he growls in return, the gruff grumble igniting flames in his chest as he casts aside his borrowed cello in its stand.

"What does that even matter?" you question him, cocking your head to the side and furrowing your brows, "I could wring your neck and scream at you for how much I despise you!"

"Would be a better sound than your fucking playing, that's for sure!" he draws himself closer to you, his much taller frame towering over yours.

You see red, reaching up and circling his neck with your hands. You use all your might to shove him down onto the chair he was formerly sat atop and accidentally fall on top of him. Your thighs frame his, your crotch perfectly in line with his.

This small stumble causes you to falter in your fury. Shock writes itself over your face as you notice a soft blush dust the cheeks of your academic rival beneath you. From this new position, you notice the warm hue in his hazel eyes: the tint almost rust-coloured in the pale lighting.

You both glance down to the join of your bodies in synchrony before glancing back up at each other's shocked faces.

It all happens in an instant: clothes cast aside and discarded on the floor, lips gnashing, biting and marking each other beneath your rough oscillations. You're in his lap, facing away from him with his girthy cock plunging deep within your slick cunt with a brutal rapidity.

His left hand circles your throat, causing your head to lull against his left shoulder. His right hand is plunged deep between your legs and pinches, circles and grinds against your clit as he thrusts his cock deep within you.

As his right digits begin tapping your clit in rhythmic patterns, the fingers of his left hand tighten and loosen against your flesh. The stampeding ecstacy draws ever nearer, both of your voices picking up in the corners as his knob bullies and batters your cervix with deep thrusts.

As your abdomen begins to tighten it's woven band of ecstacy, Kid's huffed breath pants out with more intentional rapidity. His thighs shudder beneath you, his body giving into the carnal urge to fuck the attitude and sass out of you with each cruel thrust.

His left hand breaks away from your neck circling in front of your chest and anchoring his body against yours to chase his climax within you. His momentum staggers as you felt his cock twitch within your plush walls.

"I-I-..." Kid stutters through his warning, mewling your name in a panted whine, "...-I'm gonna-... fuck. You feel so fucking good. I'm gon-... -I'm c-cumming."

As he whines through his panted confession, your body immediately was ushered into your bliss alongside his own. Lights danced behind your eyes as your body betrayed your hatred for him and transported your senses to become overwhelmed with bliss.

You cried his name, head lying fully back and at his mercy as he continued to bully his thick cock deep within you. Ribbons of hot, sticky cum shot deep within you, the rippling backsplash causing the translucent fluid to leak from your entrance and pool down your spread legs and onto his thighs.

As you rode through your mutual bliss, Kid offers you an apology for his prior insults.

"I-... -I don't think you're a shit flute-player," he admits, his forehead meeting with the back of your neck, "I actually think you're quite talented."

"You are too," you confess, nuzzling the back of your head against his, "But you're still an asshole."

Notes: I'm not sure if cellist Kid is a vibe or not, but it was my initial thoughts. A little bit of enemies to lovers never hurt. I could also see Law as a cellist, but Kid was screaming at me. I have had a drink, and this was done in about 20 minutes. Apologies for grammar mistakes!

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff

#one piece #x reader #eustass kid #captain eustass kid #one piece eustass #kid x reader #eustass kid smut #eustass x reader #op kid x reader

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petit-etoile · 11 months ago

Note

Astarion/Tav prompt (or Reformed Durge): "I would have you smile again. You will live to see these days renewed. No more despair." I know it's a Lord of the Rings quote but gosh if it doesn't remind me of them ;-;

this is the end of the world ( a time for something biblical )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 5,219 content warnings: canonical mentions of death, spoilers for the dark urge storyline & astarion's act iii romance, graphic mentions of injuries, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, mental health issues & physical ramifications from the tadpole + rejecting bhaal, i highly recommend listening to the exogenesis symphony by muse other tags: canon compliant, canon-typical violence, character study, introspection, hurt/comfort, whump, canon temporary character death, the dark urge as player character, codependency, religious imagery & symbolism, p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary: ‘Stay,’ Astarion says weakly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘Your life is mine,�� he says, cruel eyes gazing at you. ‘Accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it.’

‘I would rather die,’ you say.

His hateful eyes narrow dangerously. It was never a good idea to betray a god, nonetheless one who had created you so lovingly. His voice is a low growl when he dismisses you — and suddenly, white-hot pain shoots through your veins and threatens to swallow you whole. Bhaal raises his hand and your blood obeys.

‘You were made to conquer,’ he snarls. ‘To devour!’

‘I don’t need any of this,’ you spit out. ‘I don’t need you. The only family — I know are those who fight by my side! I will not be what you made me!’

The sickness in your belly surges until you think it will overcome you. You stagger forward until your knees hit the stone floor. Bhaal is forcing you to submit, to become what he had made Orin. This thing won’t have you, Astarion whispers against the curve of your ear. It won’t win. You’ve got this, darling. And I’ve got you. You want to believe him, but your blood-kin has done damage beyond repair. What were children beyond the sins of their father?

‘You reject my blood?’ Bhaal asks.

‘Yes,’ you whisper.

‘Then I shall reclaim it,’ he says, his promise a growl in his throat.

You were your father’s seed cultivated to perfection by determination and bravery. Now, you were nothing more than a disappointment to be snuffed out root and stem. You choke on the warmth in your throat. Your veins seem to have exploded beneath your skin. You sneeze, red oozing from every orifice.

‘I will make another who is worthy,’ says Bhaal, lifting his hand.

As he raises his hand, you are forced to kneel. Every single one of your muscles contracts in agony. The others might be shouting but you can hardly hear them over the roaring in your ears. Your blood is rejecting you. Festering inside your flesh like a disease. Like the skeleton carved into the wall, you weep blood down your neck. No matter how hard you try to close your eyes to prevent it, your rich ichor abandons you.

No, you want to tell him. The rot of his blood will end with you as it had with Orin. The abomination of murder will never set forth and harm another. You reach for the dagger at your hip and raise it, but the Avatar of Bhaal dissipates before you can strike. The weight of your body collapses forward.

Like a wounded beast, you keen loudly, shaking your head as if that will free your ears from the blood inside of them. You were born from this blood. You were created by this blood to be who you are today. Rejecting it should be like a sin — but if sin is a seed, you have eaten it willingly from the hand of mortality. If Bhaal is to reject you, then you will reject his godhood.

You close your eyes as blood overtakes your sight. You press your forehead into the stone to fight your fever. You shiver and gasp. You gargle on the proof of vitriol and lean into the chilled floor, resigned to your fate. At least you wouldn’t become a mindflayer…

“No!” Astarion wails. Your heart shatters. ‘No, please — Not you!’

I’m sorry, you say. You close your eyes and remember the color of the sun in his hair. I didn’t mean for this to happen. This isn’t what I wanted. Your fingers curl against the stone, and then — There’s nothing. Astarion touches the sleepless bruises beneath your eyes with such tenderness you forget his strength. You lean your cheek into his palm and sigh sleepily, but even as exhaustion overtakes your body, you shudder. You’re afraid to sleep, to dream. You don’t want to hurt anyone else ever again.

‘You have to rest, my love,’ he murmurs. He allows you to lay on his hand as though it were a pillow. ‘When was the last time you slept through the night?’

‘I’m not sure,’ you confess.

‘I might be a sleepless creature of the night,’ Astarion says, ‘but you… You needn’t fear your dreams when I am here. I’ll protect you no matter the cost.’

‘And who will protect you if I sleep?’ you ask.

You must be frowning, because Astarion uses his other hand to soothe the crease between your eyebrows. He sounds so outrageously heartbroken that you want to cry. You don’t want him to think he isn’t a comfort… You haven’t slept beside someone in so long, and the warmth of his body has always lulled you to your dreams peacefully until recently.

Astarion swallows thickly. ‘I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m with you forever and always.’

But what if there isn’t an always?

‘There is always a future for you and I,’ Astarion vows. ‘Now sleep. He can’t control you as long as I’m around.’ When you open your eyes again, you’re greeted by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His eyes are a soft cerise, and his cheeks are high and sleek, his lips plump and his hair soft and curled. An angel. You’re unable to control the way you reach your hand to touch his cheek, smearing a crystalline tear across his wan skin.

‘Who are you?’ you whisper, voice caught painfully in your throat.

‘Hush now, my love,’ he whispers. He presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, and when he pulls away, his lips are ruddy and wet. ‘Thank the gods… I thought I had lost you.’

Oh, you think. You remember now. This is the man from your dream… You try to recall the details of how you know him, but it’s hard to follow a train of thought. You turn from side to side. It’s so hard to move, to focus. Your limbs feel as though they are made of lead and marble. Everything aches. The tips of your fingers and your nails down to the little bones in your toes. Your head, though, is the only part of you free from intense pain. It’s as though a weight has been lifted from the veil of your memories. You rest your arm across your waist, too tired to keep it lifted.

‘Who…’ Your brows furrow in confusion. ‘Who am I?’

‘I know you were once a child full of life and love,’ the angel says to you, gently cradling your face in his hands. ‘I know one day you were afraid and unsure and half-mad. I know you stained the streets red with cruelty and devised a plan larger than all of Faerûn. But I know you are strong and that your heart is good. You saved the tieflings, and you saved the refugees, and now you will save the world that threatens to be plunged into darkness.’

You smile. ‘That doesn’t sound like me at all,’ you confess.

The angel shakes his hand, fingers pressing hard into your skin. His voice breaks. ‘But I know it to be true, so you must believe my every word. You are brave. You are kind. You are good. You are my love, and I know that I am loved by you in return. You are a protector,’ he tells you. ‘You have protected everyone, and now it is time to protect yourself. You have survived two gods and now you must survive a third.’

The knot in your throat grows larger with every word. You think you remember now. Yes, you can remember it all very clearly. You know the weight of his hands like baptism. You turn your cheek and kiss his palm, smudging his skin pink.

‘Astarion,’ you whisper.

Your love smiles down at you, your blood dribbling down his chin.

‘What happened?’

‘Let’s not worry about that,’ he shushes you, massaging the bruises beneath your eyes. ‘Come, let us get you cleaned up.’

‘I don’t think I can walk yet,’ you say. Admitting it makes you feel weak.

‘Don’t worry,’ Astarion says softly. ‘I can carry you.’

‘I will bloody your clothes,’ you say.

‘Bloody them,’ Astarion says. ‘I don’t care.’

Astarion does carry you. He carries you all the way back to the inn, to a private room just the two of you share. He orders a tub to bathe you in and then takes an hour to scrub your skin clean, carefully cleaning your gore from your hair and scalp.

You watch as Astarion passes a bar of soap against the skin of the top of your arm over and over again until it is red then pink then flesh. Then, he gently twists your wrist. He cleans the underside of your arm next, and your palm. He washes your fingers until they do nothing but shake in the cold air. You curl your fingers around his.

‘Was it hard?’ you ask him.

‘I will never forget the smell of your scent,’ Astarion replies.

He moves to wash the hollow between your collarbones, encouraging you to recline in the water. He washes your chest and your stomach until his grief washes over him in waves. His chin shakes until a sob escapes. He presses his face into your hair and wails softly into your crown. When he’s done weeping, Astarion returns to his cleansing. He speaks not of it again. There is so little of you left.

You often wonder how much of your brain is left between the parasite and the hole your father has left you. Sometimes Jaheira still looks at you as though the rot of your father isn’t entirely gone. You don’t blame her. You’re waiting for your control to snap. You were good once. You could be good again. You want to be good again.

Shadowheart smiles at you now. Lae’zel no longer frowns. Even Wyll has taken up eating beside you again when it’s nighttime and the adventure can go no more. Gale pours you an extra serving of wine. He says you need it. Karlach lets you hold Clive at night when Astarion goes hunting, and he goes hunting often now. It makes you wonder if your blood is vile.

Part of you wants to ask him if you’ve done something wrong. You’ve committed no crime, but you feel like you have. Your memories of before are slipping away. Your memories of now seem to do the same.

You wait in your tent that night for Astarion to return, your blanket pulled around your head and shoulders. You rehearse what you’re going to say. You want to reassure him you’re not angry. You just…feel loss. Empty. The loneliness nips at your bones like crows at carrion.

When Astarion slips inside, he looks guilty. It almost makes you want to change your mind, but you have to know. You feel as though you’re going mad. A flightless bird trapped in a cage. Like Dame Aylin trapped in Shadowfell. He refuses to meet your gaze.

‘Have I done something — ’

‘You,’ Astarion says through gritted teeth, ‘are perfect. Every time.’

You want to cry. ‘Then why do you avoid me?’

‘Avoid you?’ Astarion repeats incredulously. He looks at you now despairingly. ‘No, that isn’t what this is at all. I would never avoid you.’

‘You’re hunting more often,’ you say in a low tone, a whisper. Accusatory.

‘Can you blame me?’ he asks plainly.

It’s your turn to look away in shame. ‘If it’s too much, you should sleep somewhere else.’

‘I don’t want to be apart from you,’ Astarion says.

‘Then how do we fix this?’

‘You cannot fix what is not broken.’

‘Astarion,’ you plead. ‘Hold me or — I don’t know who I am anymore.’

Astarion wraps his arms around you before you can say another word. His lips are like a halo against your head. Each kiss he presses against your scalp is a prayer from a sinner. You turn your cheek, and he kisses you so passionately it makes your empty head spin.

You relearn who are you in his arms that night. And as he regales you with tales of your history, you think you can imagine them in your mind’s eye. He kisses your wrist. He tells you a happy memory when he kisses the curve of your belly, and when he kisses your ankle, he promises you that everything will be worth it.

It wasn’t you that was the problem. There wasn’t a problem, not really. Only an impiety he wanted to atone for. He struggles with telling you, but when he whispers it against your thigh, you understand.

‘Your blood,’ he says, voice strained. ‘I cannot escape the smell.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, but he shakes his head and his hair tickles your sensitive skin.

‘No, I — It is my shame,’ he confesses. ‘I’ll admit I’m a lech.’

Astarion struggles to put his words in a coherent structure. When you died, he was horrified and distraught. Only the gods know how hard he wept seeing you lifeless. Yet it was his vampiric nature that had betrayed him almost as much as your life’s blood had betrayed you. He felt hunger.

How could he be sad when he was so ravenous? Was he not an evil man, or is this what made him evil? That, in all of his beautiful tears and lamentation, the urge to devour you, bones and all, nearly consumed him? Your death was horrible, ugly, wretched. Your death was beautiful and coveted.

Astarion devours you again that night, mouthing and licking and sucking at your swollen core. He makes you a martyr in his grief. His tongue teases you over and over again. When you’ve climaxed once, Astarion seeks out to make you do it again until your legs are shaking violently and your voice has gone hoarse. He doesn’t take you that night, not in the traditional way, but he swallows you up regardless.

It isn’t until afterwards when he’s laying with his head on your chest that you understand his tragedy. It’s a misfortunate impossibility trying to grieve when you can’t stop salivating. Astarion thinks you’re horrified by the admission, but after knowing your past, it was hard to feel scandalized by anything.

You pet his curls away from his face, watching as he listens to the hum of your heartbeat. He might have it memorized by now, but each time it beats, Astarion’s eyelashes flutter with admiration. It is a hymn, a doxology, a liturgy that only he knows the words to. After all, he wrote them on your skin and immortalized them forevermore. He is so beautiful, you think, when there is no trouble to be seen.

You were once both trapped by your dark god’s design. You had set yourself free. You had sprouted the wings of a swan guided by the empathy you had planted in a garden as a child. It would be Astarion’s soon, and you would carry him in compassion until the thorn crown was placed upon his brow.

Astarion’s eyes are closed. In your perpetually confused state, you mistake him for having fallen asleep and resort to doing the same. The city becomes chilly at night and your skin is decorated with gooseflesh. He rises almost immediately and you try to chase after him, fingers piercing through a ghost.

‘I wasn’t going anywhere,’ Astarion says immediately. He drags his cape from the corner of the tent and lays it across your shins. ‘You were shivering.’

‘I’m not used to this — ’ Will my mind ever be the same? ‘ — chill.’

‘I will be here,’ he promises. ‘Here, let me hold you for the night.’

You clumsily trade places with him, and he tucks your blanket and his cape around your body as tightly as he can. He kisses you passionately and you taste your familiarity in his mouth. It’s so sweet that you sigh. ‘I know what you did,’ Orin says hatefully, spitefully, cruelly. Her voice is like honey.

‘What have I done?’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t know?’ she asks. ‘Filthy rotten blood-kin undeserving of our father’s gift!’

You repeat yourself. ‘What have I done?’

‘You,’ Orin spits, ‘think your grey matter deserves to be loved! I should carve it out! I should make it disgusting and sticky again! Split it’s skull open! You foul traitor!’

Slowly, you pull Orin into your chest. You hug her and smooth her hair down her back. Her arms wrap around you begrudgingly until the lovingkindness causes her to rupture. She sobs into your neck hideously, clinging to you. She wails and she wails until you are both children again staring up at your grandsire for approval.

‘It isn’t fair,’ Orin tells you, hiccuping. She wipes her nose with her fingers. ‘It isn’t fair.’

‘I love you, blood-kin,’ you say. You kiss the top of her head.

‘Slaughter kin,’ she says sadly. She holds your hand with her snotty palm.

‘Sister,’ you say. In the coming weeks, your mind hardly gets better. Memories are still missing. You catch yourself gazing at the mirror longer than you expect to. You used to be so beautiful. It’s hard to recognize the face staring back at you. You touch one cheek and then the other. You turn your head and watch your jawline.

No, it still isn’t you.

You take the knife in your belt to your hair and begin cutting away pieces you don’t remember. You lean forward and smudge your eyes before sitting up straight and trying again. You recognize a part of yourself. You chase that feeling. You press your hand against your heart. You smile faintly. Astarion sobs so hard you think you might lose yourself. You’re at a loss of what to do. He’s alive but he keens like a dying deer. It’s supposed to be healing, you think. Cazador is dead. His reign of terror should end. Astarion is saved and he saved himself. You couldn’t be prouder of him.

Slowly, you step forward one foot after another. You collapse to your knees at his side. It’s easy to pull Rhapsody from his fingers. You drop it by his side. Slowly, as if in a dream, you hold him like you held Orin. Astarion sobs harshly into your collarbone and clings to you so tightly you might break.

‘I thought — I thought — ’ he cries brokenly.

I thought it would make me feel better, he says without saying. You shush him and pet his hair. Cazador’s blood smears against your cheek when Astarion burrows his face into your neck. You let him linger. You aren’t sure how long you sit on the hard marbled floors, but when you stand up, your knees creak so loud you’re almost insecure about it.

This time, it’s your turn to carry Astarion. He won’t let you pick him up, but you hold him by his waist. You carry him past your allies, past the onlookers who once saw you in opposition. You order the maids to bring you a bath, and as Astarion hiccups in the water, you bathe him.

You wash the taint of Cazador from his body. The soap cleans the dirt and the blood and the memory. You wash his chest and his belly and Astarion thanks you hoarsely. He looks at you, and his eyes are so wide and beautiful that you cry too.

Dying isn’t easy. It isn’t beautiful or romantic or a sweeping gesture. Dying is painful and hideous and ugly, and you have saved Astarion from a lifetime of torment. Rather, he did it by himself with your help. You swipe the soap against his cheeks and use a rag to clear it away. Astarion’s hair is somehow curlier when it’s wet, and you part the curls so they’ll dry without tangling.

Astarion watches you miserably as you towel his hair. You wipe droplets of water off his skin and slowly slide him into his smallclothes. He accepts your blanket and wraps it around his shoulders, staring at the wooden floor, at his feet.

‘Stay,’ Astarion says weakly. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘I would never let you be alone,’ you say.

It isn’t what you bought the room for. Really, you only wanted to wipe the blood from his face but now, you climb into the sheets next to Astarion and hold him tightly. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about the future. He doesn’t want to talk about his siblings either or the thousands of spawn waiting to hang on his every word.

And you can’t even blame him. The gods know how long it took for your tongue to become free from the weight that held it still after you betrayed your father. Karlach said you talked a lot before, but now it’s hard to say anything without wondering if your words are in the right order. Astarion cries softly as if to not awaken you from your slumber, but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t toss or turn either, but dreams evade you.

Dawn peeks through the window. Dawn-bringer, Jergal had called you. You slide out of bed carefully then and cross the room. You draw the curtains shut. Astarion watches you curiously from where he burrows in the sheets. His brow furrows adorably when you climb back into bed and plaster yourself to his spine.

‘Ah,’ you say monotonously. ‘The sun is gone. I suppose we'll stay in until it returns.’

After a day of lounging, Astarion still isn’t ready to talk about what’s on his mind but he watches you do your favorite mundane mortal things with explicit interest. He has you read the book you’re reading aloud, and if it takes you a few hours to struggle through one chapter, he says nothing about it.

Every once in a while, another one of your companions comes to sit in.

Lae’zel tries to commend Astarion for his warrior’s heart without sounding stilted, but eventually she gives up on complimenting him to sympathetically let him know she understands. They had all seen Vlaakith. Karlach brings Clive by and carefully arranges him in the bed next to Astarion. She tells him that he’s fucking awesome and asks permission to hug him.

The touch nearly sends him spiraling.

Gale approaches in his usual manner. He brings Astarion a bottle of wine spiked with blood and lets him know he’s available to chat whenever Astarion feels up to it. Wyll spends thirty minutes apologizing for the bad blood between them, which is funny considering their bickering was hardly vitriolic. Shadowheart visits and gifts him a perfume that makes his lip wobble dangerously.

Jaheira, Minsc, Boo and Halsin come together solemnly. They might be the least offensive of the bunch. Boo gives Astarion a thousand kisses on his cheeks, and Jaheira finally tells them a story of her youth. Halsin has Astarion drink a potion, not because he’s injured physically, but because it should help with his pain. Minsc tries teaching you a Rashemen dance, but Astarion laughs for the first time that day and you do too.

‘It is good,’ Jaheira says, ‘to see you both smile again.’

You touch your mouth shyly. Your cheeks are sore. Astarion’s smile fades slightly but returns in full, timid confidence lighting his features once more. Halsin crosses the room and opens the curtains you’ve closed. The light douses the room in holiness, and you turn your face to watch the sunset, unafraid of what the future will bring.

‘That which troubles you will soon be over,’ she promises. She pats Astarion’s hand, and although she doesn’t say it, you know he’s her son. ‘You will live to see these days renewed. There will be no more despair.’

You’re both left alone again together. Astarion beckons you to the bed instead of your chair and you join him, carefully sitting atop the covers, a respectable distance between your thighs. You inhale carefully.

‘You did the right thing,’ you say. ‘Not completing the Black Mass.’

‘Perhaps I had inspiration,’ Astarion replies. ‘You had a chance to become the Slayer, a being more powerful than you could have known. But you didn’t.’

‘I betrayed my father,’ you whisper, staring at your hands. ‘And he killed me for it.’

‘And if I had completed Cazador’s ritual,’ Astarion says, ‘I would have become Mephistopheles’s whore. I refuse to bow to the whims of others. Being an Ascendent…was blinding me to the truth.’

You look at him curiously then. He confesses to you his sins. He has thought of ascending, and thought of it often but it was never to protect himself. After a certain point, he wanted to protect you too. Your Urges had been mistaken for something else then. A possession, an invasion. Astarion sought to exorcise you of your demons.

But when you had died and the diseased lifeblood fled from your veins, Astarion realized the truth. The ascension would not have helped him protect you. It would have tainted him. It would have contorted him. Rising above all other vampires, Astarion would have become cruel like those before him. He does not want to be cruel to you. He wants to learn kindness as you have. He reaches for it like he chases the sun.

Astarion takes you by the hand, smoothing your skin with his thumb over and over. His skin is cold beneath yours. You curl your fingers into his. He did not want to make you a slave, not again. Not to him.

‘You are the dawn-bringer,’ Astarion says. ‘Even if I never see the sun again, I am free.’

‘I love you,’ you say, voice shaking. ‘I’ll be with you. In the darkness.’

‘You fool,’ Astarion laughs affectionately. He leans across the distance and kisses your temple. ‘There is no darkness. You are daylight incarnate.’

You look at him sharply.

‘I’ve been thinking about something,’ he says. ‘It’s…been on my mind all day, but I think it’s time. Say you’ll come away with me.’

You and Astarion dress slowly. You would follow him almost anywhere, but this is different. There’s something to be done. You don’t dress in armor, and for that you’re almost grateful. You’re tired of fighting. You’re tired of seeing blood.

But it isn’t blood or anything blood related that Astarion takes you to see. One minute, you are wandering Baldur’s Gate at night, and the next, you’ve come to the hollow of a tree where a gravestone is coated in vines.

‘This…is where my old life began,’ Astarion tells you softly. ‘Beneath there, I was turned into a monster. But Cazador is dead now and I get to decide my own fate.’

Astarion tells you in painful detail about his transformation. How his wounds fused themselves shut but the pain never went away. He tells you about breaking through the wood of his demise and the fear that flooded his veins and how, just when he thought he had found his savior, Cazador had laughed wickedly with his cruel glowing eyes.

‘I was his,’ Astarion murmurs, ‘but not anymore.’

He kneels before you on the dirt before his tombstone and bows his head. The prodigal son returned home. The sight of it causes your heart to squeeze. You want to step away but you can’t. You’re afraid.

‘There is nothing left of the person I was before,’ he tells you. ‘I am free to become who I want to be, free to start a new journey. I have all the time in the world to figure out who I am and what I want, but I think I know.’

‘I love you,’ you say again. ‘You’re what I want.’

‘You were by my side through all of this,’ Astarion says, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. ‘And now I want you to christen me. Inaugurate me here on the site of my rebirth.’

This is another dream. You hold your hands over Astarion’s head and sprinkle imaginary water over his head. His eyes close instinctively. Love washes over him, something golden. You kneel down and pluck a flower from the earth and it does not bleed. Relief floods your veins. For once, you touch something and it does not rot. Carefully, like a ghost, you slide the flower into Astarion’s hair and watch as his crimson eyes spill open with tears and devotion.

Astarion kisses you, and for the first time in a long time, he presses his body against yours. He takes you that night in the dirt. His leg is tucked under yours, his cock against your core, his lips never leaving yours. Astarion recites verses in your ears until you burst with ecstasy, tightening around him so much that he can hardly move. He cradles the back of your head to comfort you as he drinks your blood. He cradles your head tonight because he loves you.

‘I am yours,’ he whispers against your skin, ‘and you are mine.’ You aren’t sure when or how Astarion has the time, but he presents you with a gift the night before the world ends. He wears a matching flower from his grave pinned to his armor at all times now. And on his hand, a ring with a silver band. He slides one over your finger as well and kisses your palm as you slowly realize what it means.

The family you’ve chosen throws you a celebration. The next day, Dammon arrives and shows you your repaired armor now dyed white.

You cry for hours out of happiness. ‘This could be the last chance we have for this,’ you whisper to Astarion.

Everyone keeps telling you that a light has returned to your eye, but you don’t see it. It isn’t until you’re laying naked with Astarion again, his skin pressed against yours, that you think you can see it too.

Astarion fucks you tenderly until you’re sore, and you cry and plead sweet things against his shoulder while he holds you safe in his arms. When the pleasure becomes too much and your spine arches from the mattress, he pulls you into his lap and holds you safe against his chest. You kiss him until your lips are sore.

‘Your life is mine,’ Astarion murmurs. ‘You belong with me, my love.’

‘I’ve never been happier,’ you moan weakly.

He has taken you again and again this evening. He doesn’t say it, but Astarion is afraid of what tomorrow might bring. You have outsmarted gods and men. You have found goodness where there was nothing but darkness. You refuse to be afraid now.

‘We were made to conquer,’ Astarion says. His mouth is like a fire across your cheekbone. You shudder around his cock.

‘Take my love,’ Astarion commands you, so you do.

You kiss a ruby bruise into his neck, and Astarion fills you with a grunt. He doesn’t part from you. He guides you back down into the sheets and burrows against your body as if determined to climb between your ribs. You smile. Astarion has already made a home in your bones and flesh. He has eaten the rot from your core and recreated you anew. You were not his sin but his salvation. Perhaps he was yours too.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #extremely #aeristarion #coded #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #this might be my favorite thing i've written in a really long time #i think it vaguely fits the prompt i tried my best #sometimes...................sometimes.

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lexluvswriting · 7 months ago

Text

ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 1 [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> Content Warning/CW: x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. live, laugh, love 2 lesbian mothers!!

-> Trigger Warnings/TW: Eris Vanserra, mentions of racism, mentions of discrimination, mentions of forced removal from homes (cant think of the name rn), Beron Vanserra is a massive cunt.

W/C: 2.8k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: omg eris fic is here grahhh!!! the title for this comes from Vivaldi's Four Seasons Concerto album, which i do listen to while writing this, yes yes. Eris has is a massive dick, but i'd like to hope he's a massive dick for a reason that will (hopefully) be revealed better. Hopefully, reader holds him accountable & gives him a run for his money!! (you will). While reader is fem for this fic, there's no specified identity (except being from Summer Court). There are a few referrals to racism using the Courts of Prythian & the fae, so if this feels triggering or hurtful, please let me know if it feels like it's written badly/insincerely! i'm merely basing such references off of personal & researched experiences. TYSM for reading, please enjoy <3

A violin filled the studio, wafting around like a strong scent- hypnotic as you inhaled deeply, eyes shut to steel yourself and count in before your arms swung up and out, fingers and feet pointed within your ballet shoes as you began to dance. Careful, calculated steps sent you spinning around the room- the perfect prima of your time. A prime example for those who dream to even come close to your level.

In a room of fire, your movements were fluid. In a room of embers, you were a tidal wave. Your body poise and malleable as you stretched yourself alluringly to those who watched as you swayed for the sweet symphony of violins. Eyes watched you from a concealed viewing platform high above- russet spheres simmering with a flame of interest that was bound to end in a fiery mess.

“Her. I want her to perform for the Equinox.”

“She’s quite the star, isn’t she?” Your mentor nodded, eyes twinkling with pride, before he wore his favourite facade- an arrogant smirk on his lips as he inspected his manicured nails. Eris’ face was impassive, yet any trained, or similarly minded individual would see the need for greed in his russet eyes as he glared down at you, pupils flaring possessively.

“She’s my starlet, young Lord. I cannot let her perform without any… payment. She will be put through harsh training- stretching, extension of her muscles, and her diet will be limited- to ensure she is tamed and perfect for the Lord’s family. I know the Lady of Autumn thoroughly enjoys the…” He trailed off nervously as Eris held up a silencing hand, the young heir fixing him with a cold stare- despite the fire in his veins.

“Spare me. Your pocket will be stuffed accordingly. But I warn you,” With one hand he grabbed the collar of the weaker male’s shirt with a predatory grace,

She must be perfect, or else we won’t have her, and the only old you’ll see is the Vanserra signet ring imprinted in your cheek.” His hand clenched accordingly, the Vanserra signet ring- the emblem of the Autumn Court banners carved in the pure gold, making Gustav still and nod compliantly. The heir dismissively waved for a servant to hand your instructor a list before storming out- ignoring your dancing figure.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Wrong! When we kick, our leg must come out-”

A cold hand clamped around your calf, another hand pushing just above your knee, the joint loose like a hinge. Your face was impassive- unmoving even as a small ‘pop’ echoed from somewhere in your knee. One of the junior dancers recoiled visibly, hiding her face behind her hands as a cluster of them watched you be used like a demonstration doll for your instructor.

“Stiff! Strong! Not flabby and weak. We are not caterpillars- we are butterflies. We are not brutish fires, we are?”

“Dancing flames.” The dancers replied in a drone of young feminine voices, with a few meek boys who looked like they were on the verge of clawing their eyes out. Gustav was being a right pain in the ass as always, but today he seemed more sharpened. Another lecture, another scolding, but it was always,

“For the better! I do this for your own good, my dears! When the Equinox arises and we are in front of your esteemed Lord, I know his lordship would enjoy seeing his dancers disciplined. Lean and poise. Controlled.”

The cold hand that held your leg squeezed once in warning- ‘I’m talking about you too’, before letting go, as your instructor sighed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“That is why we dance the way we dance, and why I speak the way I do. Now leave me! And warm down appropriately or I will personally see to it that the muscles you take for granted will tear.” A curl of the lip in a low, warning snarl, before he waved with a sweeter disposition.

“Adequate work today, my dears!” Footsteps echoed as the younger dancers left first, whispers filling the halls as they eagerly complained about their instructor. The older ones bid polite greetings of farewell as they followed, until you were the last to leave. The prima. Gus liked to call you the ‘Summer jewel in the Autumn box’.

“Ah, ah, ah! I mean it, my jewel. No going off and doing your own thing.” You pause. His voice carried a weariness of someone twice his age, before he covered it up with his usual airy arrogance, “The Lord will be hosting important families at this gathering. Something big is on the horizon and I know he will be watching you closely.”

Ah, yes. Kicking out all the non-fae and those who hail from other courts. The nationalist prick seemed to have no lost winks of sleep as he commanded his soldiers to haul families out in the night, dispatching them at random borders with no cares for the creatures that lurked with a taste for fae flesh.

“I’m aware, Gus. No sudden movements, no flashy shows of skill, Mother forbid I reveal I’m not some worthless foreigner with no talent.” You mocked mirthlessly, earning a sigh of defeat.

“Wait a moment.” He roused, and the fingers that curled around your bag strap tightened slightly, your pointed ears twitching at the tone of his voice. But you slowly turned, a scowl on your unimpressed face as you nodded airly.

“You were selected personally to perform for the Vanserra family. Something about honouring the magic in the Autumn Court territory with dance and such.”

You paused, mind blanking, yet your demeanour remained even, “And you’re looking at me like that, why?”

He winced, knowing how keen you were to snap at any male- or anyone, really, who rubbed you up the wrong way.

“They left a list of… expectations. As in, mandatory requirements or they won’t let you perform. They expect you to be… um… Be polite, and uh, as he put it, ‘socially acceptable’. Speak in turn and only when spoken to-”

“He?” You snapped, visibly unimpressed and ready to pull out completely. What kind of prick-

“I don’t let you anywhere near me on a good day, Gustav. What in the Cauldron makes you think I’ll just-”

“They’re offering coffers of gold. The Equinox… well, after Amarantha… they need to regenerate the magic of the Autumn Court specifically, so they want to use the Equinox.”

You cringed at the mention of that sick tyrant, yet you weren’t going to just roll over and lie down because someone jingled a purse of gold. “What of the Spring Court and Calanmai?”

“I didn’t ask, because I know my place. And don’t start. I didn’t exactly feel like getting ripped a new one by the son of the Autumn Lord, [Y/N]-”

“Son? As in, Eris Vanserra? That oaf- that misogynistic, foul-mouthed, mentally decayed pig was here? And he spoke to you about me?” You snarled, lip curling back as you advanced forward slowly like a fox- a wolf, eyes narrowed.

“He’s offering coffers on behalf of his father, [Y/N]! Enough for you to be paid out well, and then some for the studio.” Damn right he put you first on the pay list, otherwise he wouldn’t have a damned head. Though, you personally couldn’t give a flying fuck about the Vanserra coffers. You wanted nothing of it, as tempting as it might have sounded.

“Get Nerissa to do it.”

“He wanted you-”

“I thought the family wanted me.”

“I… oh, fuck it- Fine! Eris came here alone! Came here alone, saw you, insisted on you with this list in mind and he said either you or no one at all.”

You or no one. You or nothing. You made a retch of disgust, laughing at the mental image. Who did he think he was? “Then I will snap my leg in half and shatter my bones into teeny tiny pieces for good measure.”

“[Y/N]-”

“I will swan dive off the nearest staircase.”

“No.”

“I’m not performing personally for a good-for-nothing family that are backwards in everything they do.” You reaffirmed, shaking your head, but Gustav stepped forward.

“[Y/N].”

“They singled out the non-Autumn Court dancer to perform for them. What powers do I possess to help the court that doesn’t even want us? A ‘summery breeze’? A ‘foreigner’s’ complexion? Absolutely not-”

“Please. We…” Silence, before a sigh. A sigh that made you glare silently. “I received a letter last night from the building owner. I’ve been falling behind on payments, and Beron’s financiers are… hungry- they see this old building and want to knock it down for something else. Something miserable and drab.”

You frowned, blinking at your instructor. Well, fuck. Your shared silence was long- his pleading, hopeful silence swirled like smoke with your prideful refusal, that melted like wax the longer it lingered.

“... Fine. But only because I enjoy this damned studio.”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your life was, what you thought at least, a mixed bag. You were brought up in an orphanage- housing mostly Autumn children, all who seemed to smell the ‘impostor’ blood in your bones, weeding you out as an odd one out. Your appearance led the governess of the orphanage to believe you hailed from the Summer Court- as did russet and teal muslin you were wrapped in. You repurposed the seemingly sentimental piece of fabric into a scarf- letting it rest around your neck currently, as you walked down the path of the bustling town.

You were lucky to be recognised for your artistic performative abilities, earning a grant to allow you to perform in the Autumn Court’s national dance academy, as well as live in one the apartments they provided. Two old ladies next door adopted you as their honorary daughter, and you were grateful for their familial company, even if there was no blood relation. One of them, Ordelia, even pushed you to study at the grand scholar’s library, using her former connections to grant you access to all the education you could need.

It wasn’t wonderful. But it could be worse. At least you were making it on your own, sort of.

“Afternoon little doe! Will you come for dinner? Delia-dearest made pumpkin and feta soup the way you like it!” ‘Madame’ Primrose, one of your makeshift mothers, waved to you from her balcony, and you offered a small wave.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’m on a strict diet of greens and grains.” You pat your stomach with a sympathetic wince- greens and grains. Like a bloody farm animal. The silver haired fae seemed to nod sympathetically and wave a hand.

“You’re always welcome, dearie.”

You stopped for a moment, looking at an old fae sitting on the corner of the little road, a vendor selling flowers. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, staining the sky pink amidst the grey from the overcast weather that settled. You smiled at the older male who offered you a bouquet of lavender stalks and crocus bulbs.

Pretty.

Your eyes widened slightly as you beheld the bouquet, cradling it against your arm while you fished out payment. As you dropped some coins into his hand, a scream made you both look to one of the older complexes, where a woman was pulled out by some Autumn Court guards with two wailing children behind her. Any passersby walked quicker, ducking their heads, and when you looked back at the old male you realised he had been watching you. He gave you a nod, as if you’d know what it meant, and you swallowed before walking past, your head lower than before.

Beauty was hard to come by in the Autumn court, no matter how colourful it looked.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Oh, it’s nasty business, it really is. My darling Ordelia was telling me how shameful he is- that Beron Vanserra. Nasty business. I remember his father- he wasn’t much better, but certainly more handsome.” You had succumbed to the dinner with your neighbour-mothers, though your portion of soup was smaller, as the sprouts and stalks you miserably chewed filled most of your stomach.

“You know, I could have married Beron.”

Your eyes widened, hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you didn't know whether to choke or chortle. “Primrose!” Ordelia huffed,

“I could have, you know! But I wasn’t interested in a man with no morals.” ‘Madame’ Primrose sighed wistfully, and you laughed softly behind your mouth while her wife rolled her eyes. While Ordelia had raven hair in a tight, disciplined bun, Primrose wore hers in a loose braid that cosied on her shoulder- her silver hair glistening in the gentle faelight of the small dining room you all sat in.

“You know, I hear that Lord Vanserra is looking for some pretty girls to match his sons. The heir will be attending the Equinox alone, can you believe it?” Primrose hummed, thriving off the gossip, but Ordelia watched you with a knowing stare- amused at the soft snort you let out.

“How fares the paper? Arwen mentioned that you were hitting some brilliant points. Politics might be your strong suit, should you grow tired of glamorous costumes and fast dances.” The Autumn-born female brought up your most recent studies, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she heard her wife scoff.

At a first glance, you used to wonder how they could possibly be mated. Ordelia, with her firm, reserved rigidness and disciplined personality, and Primrose- a Spring Court fae who was gossipy and eclectic, always buzzing with something to share. Ordelia was a former scholar for Beron’s family before she retired, while Primrose was the prima ballerina of her time, moving to Autumn in search of a grander role where she met her mate. Their love-story made you sigh a little every time you heard it, but you shook your head of distractions as you answered Ordelia.

“It’s um… definitely going. I feel a little foolish writing it but every time I hear about another family getting kicked out, I get even angrier, and determined to write more. Although… um, Gustav spoke to me about… performing a solo dance for the Vanserras. A part of the Equinox celebration-”

Primrose gaped at that, as if she had been asked to dance herself, “Oh, little dove! Well, what did you say? You worked for that position- I’ll tell you that for free! I can’t fit on my fingers the times I had to remedy your torn muscles. Did you say yes? Did you accept?”

Ordelia nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her soup before chuckling softly. “I would not be surprised if your radiance catches the heir’s eye. You’d be a different splash compared to the other dames he usually parades around on his arm. I think you’d certainly give him a run for his father’s money.”

“Ordelia dearest! What makes you think our little summer shell would even consider him?” Primrose voiced the disdain etched on your face, and you joked dryly, “I didn’t think you believed in fate and whatnot.” The Autumn female scoffed softly, shaking her head, “I don’t believe in fate, or destiny. I believe in the laws of attraction. You are everything his family lack, thus making you a match. Opposites attract.” You glanced at Primrose, and both of you made a childish noise of disgust as you shuddered, shaking your head as you finished off your meal.

“I’d rather have a kelpie as a bedside companion than Eris Vanserra.” You muttered, before taking all three plates to be cleaned. Laughter sounded softly behind you, and as you felt a small smile curl on your face, you abhorred the idea of being anywhere near the Lord of the Autumn Court and his family.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

After bidding your goodnights, you retired to your own apartment, basking happily in the moonlight that shone through the silent space. Peace and quiet. The best way to finish off a bleak day. Your calendar stared you in the face, the Equinox marked in an angry scribble of orange ink. ‘End of the week!!’

What a day. You rubbed your face, feeling a stirring in your stomach as you thought about the Autumn Court. You glanced at the daily paper slid under your door, seeing Eris’ face on the front page- his smug, arrogant, wicked, slightly crooked, unnecessarily charming grin staring you in the face, making your stomach tug. ‘Eugh. Imagine being fated to that beast?’ You’d rather eat glass.

You looked at the paper, baring your teeth at the male’s face before ripping it off and crumpling it up. A swift kick sent it across the small apartment, under your couch, and stayed there for a while as you grumbled softly. You got ready for bed eagerly, excited for the day to be over, only to reach under the small sofa it had rolled under and pick it up again, making a face at it before leaving it on the small table.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: i think that's all for now!! readers, pls let me know how we feel about this!!! (privately, in comments, on inbox, i don't mind)!! also in search for a beta reader [i draft everything on google docs, don't hurt me] (T-T)

#lexluvswriting #lex luvs eris vanserra #lexluvswriting: L'autunno #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris fic #eris acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #x reader #x reader fic #acotar x reader #acotar x fem!reader

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fallen-faerie · 3 months ago

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looking for more ppl who have similar interests💜

my interests include: fairy goth, alice: madness returns, fran bow, dragon's dogma, skyrim, teeth, oddities, bugs, mythology, mortuary science, bones, anatomy, video games in general, fantasy, horror, lisa frankenstein, ginger snaps, corpse bride, nightmare before christmas, werewolves, coraline, dragons, the color purple, witchy things, whimsigoth, mall goth, metal, nu metal, goth rock, the birthday massacre, switchblade symphony, diva destruction, H.I.M, type o negative, 90's grunge, halloween, vampires, crochet, art in general, twin peaks, buffy the vampire slayer, charmed, sabrina the teenage witch, foggy forests, gloomy/rainy weather, candles, crystals, castles, spells, potions, bats, the ocean, kurt cobain, emilie autumn, old internet graphics, glitter, vinyl, rob zombie, graveyards, abandoned/haunted places, lord if the rings, game of thrones, cult of the lamb, cozy games, and so much more but thats all i can think of off the top of my head lol 🥰

#vorpalfae

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peachesyeo · 4 months ago

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The Maestro The Dinner

word count -2k words pairings - seventeen ot13 x fem!oc genre - mature, dark romance, cultish/yandere, mystery , crack

chapter warnings - none

author's notes - Hey darlings! Sorry for the short chapter! I just want to clarify something regarding my story. In this setting, Joshua is not a Christian. Please understand that the characters in my story are not affiliated with their real-life counterparts. Additionally, I apologize for the infrequent updates. Similar to 1117, The Maestro might be updated on a monthly basis. I'm currently studying and cannot write as quickly as I'd like. Thank you for all your support and encouragement. I'll do my best to keep writing.

thank you @sousydive for beta reading!

network: @mansaenetwork

Back to Masterlist?

Dear Residents of the Maestro,

I am writing to express my sincere gratitude for your recent letter. I am pleased to inform you that, thanks to your support, my child was born safely. Although I am no longer directly involved with the Maestro, I remain my commitment.

Yours faithfully,

Kang [REDACTED]

Dinner was fairly awkward.

Wonwoo took the empty seat next to me after carrying out the first dish. I noticed a familiar silver ring on his pinkie and furrowed my brows, trying to remember where I had seen it before. It wasn’t until Junhui passed me a napkin that I realised everyone at the table, except for me, was wearing the same silver ring.

Welcome to the family. I've been hearing this phrase a lot. Joshua, Soonyoung, and Jihoon have all said it. I don't know why, but it just feels… wrong.

“Is everyone here?” Seungcheol’s voice cut through the chattering as everyone stopped and looked at him. “Alright. Let's start.”

Joshua hummed, standing up. I looked around to see everyone else putting their hands together, their eyes closed. Hesitating, I followed their lead, putting my own palms together as I looked at Joshua.

“To his Lord,” Joshua started, his voice soft and calm. “We thank you for the meal you bestow upon us. We thank you for lighting our paths when we need it, and guiding us through the journey of suffering and pain. We thank you for allowing us to live, free of sickness and pain. Praise his Lord.”

I watched as his prayers were echoed by everyone at the table. My mouth felt dry, and I hesitated, unsure if I should join in. The words felt foreign on my tongue, and I fumbled through them softly, feeling a wave of awkwardness wash over me. When we were done, Joshua nodded at Seungcheol before sitting back down. Conversations broke out as the clinking of utensils joined the symphony of noises. I took some of the dishes for myself, digging into them quietly.

As I cautiously finished the food in front of me, I couldn't help but wish I were hiding in my room. To my left, Wonwoo sipped his cup of water quietly, while Junhui on my right stared blankly at his empty plate, absently toying with his fork. The clinking of utensils and sporadic bursts of laughter created a facade of normalcy, but I could still feel Seungcheol's intense gaze burning into me from across the table.

What's his problem? I wondered, trying to ignore the weight of his stare.

I wanted to look up and glare back at him, but something in me warned against it, a voice cautioning restraint. The feeling suddenly dissipated, and I seized the opportunity to lift my gaze. Jeonghan was engaged in conversation with Seungcheol, diverting his attention from me and sparing me from his piercing stare.

In that moment, I felt a surge of gratitude towards him, despite my earlier feelings about him. Suddenly, I heard my name being called.

A plate of pudding was pushed towards me by Chan, who winked and gave me a thumbs-up. I gratefully accepted the pudding, enjoying the sweet taste of caramel upon soft milk pudding.

As the sweetness of the pudding lingered on my tongue, someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned to see Seungkwan looking longingly at the pudding over Wonwoo's shoulder. "Is it good?"

I nodded eagerly. Seungkwan sighed, swallowing. "If only I'm not on a diet…”

“Then don't be on a diet.” Next to Seungkwan, Jihoon interjected, leaning into his palm as he stabbed his food absentmindedly with his fork. “You're not a reporter anyway.”

“Hyung, I look ridiculous in the office photos. Every time I walk past my photos I see a dying whale amongst a crowd of people.” Seungkwan touched his face, frowning. I shook my head. “You're fine, Seungkwan. I agree with Jihoon too.”

Seungkwan made a face. “I have a problem with bloating, Raeyang.” His expression was serious. “It really disrupts my image as a journalist—”

“Don't be ridiculous.” I looked up. Seungcheol was frowning at Seungkwan, while Jeonghan let out a tired sigh. “Kwan, you're fine. You can just go down to the gym tomorrow with Jihoon to do an extra rep.”

“I don't want to,” I heard Seungkwan mutter in reply. Seungcheol opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly cut across him. “You work as a journalist, Seungkwan?”

“Yeah! Oh, I haven't introduced myself formally to you, have I?” Seungkwan’s eyes lit up as he shot me a grateful look for stopping Seungcheol from nagging. “I work as a journalist for the newspaper Carat Daily.”

“Carat Daily!” I repeated, shocked. “That's one of the biggest news companies here!”

Seungkwan looked proud. “Yeah. Wonwoo hyung’s a streamer under their sub-company Campfire Streams. He's a pretty popular streamer too.”

Wonwoo waved his hand. “Nah, I'm still ranking up the charts.”

“Don't act so humble. You were gloating about it yesterday.” Beside Seungcheol, Chan snorted loudly. Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Shut up and eat your food.”

“What about you, Raeyang?” Junhui asked. I looked down at my almost-empty plate. “I'm an interior designer.”

“Woah. That sounds cool.” Seungkwan said. “What's the job scope like?”

“Just providing sketches of designs of rooms to match with my client's ideas. I normally work from home, though.”

“I wish I could work from home.” Jeonghan sighed longingly. “But I'm always needed at the studio. I'm a model, by the way.”

I'm not surprised by that. “I can see that.”

Jeonghan’s eyes glinted. “How?” He asked, leaning in. I took a bite of my food absentmindedly as I replied to him. “Well, you're really good-looki—” I stopped mid-sentence, realising what I was saying. Looking up, Jeonghan looked pleased with himself, his eyes wrinkling into crescent moons as he grinned. “Really? You think that I’m good-looking?”

I mentally face-palmed myself. “Urm… I- Yeah…” Why did I say that out loud?

“Well, Raeyang, Hannie’s going to gloat about this for a very long time.” Joshua said, noticing my embarrassment. Jeonghan rolled his eyes at him. “She’s only telling the truth. Everyone knows that I, Yoon Jeonghan, am the most good-looking resident of the Maestro.”

There was only silence for a while, before Mingyu snorted. “There’s a fine line between daydreaming and deluding, hyung, don’t cross it,” he said, earning a glare from Jeonghan. “If I am a model instead of you—”

“You’ll be endorsing all the underwear brands.” Seungkwan commented as the table burst into laughter. Mingyu pouted unhappily. “Stop laughing. That's not funny.”

“Who do you think is the most good-looking person here?” Chan asked, as everyone’s attention returned to me once again. “Other than Jeonghan hyung, of course.”

Oh, how I wish I could disappear from the face of Earth right now.

“Don’t ask that stupid question, Dino-ah.” Soonyoung tutted. “You’re putting Raeyang in a tight spot. Of course, I am the most good-looking one after Jeonghan hyung.”

That caused a commotion of protest from the others. I shot Soonyoung a thankful smile for saving me, as he winked. Seungcheol cleared his throat, causing the chaos to die down. “Alright, that’s enough.” He said, as everyone returned to their food.

“If you’re an interior designer, can I look at some of your samples?” I looked towards Junhui. “I’ve been wanting to redesign my apartment, but Hao’s refusing to help me to design. Said he would rather make a stray dog a home than to help me with my apartment.” He jabbed his thumb accusingly at the mentioned man from across the table.

“Minghao’s a designer too?” I asked, surprised. Junhui shrugged. “I guess. He makes clothes and paints.”

“Sure, I would love to help you…” I said. I have no upcoming projects anyway, so why not help a new neighbour out? “By the way, what’s your job?”

“A boring accountant. I work from home mostly.” Junhui took out his phone. “Can we exchange numbers?” He asked, handing me his phone for me to punch my number in. “My unit’s 303, on the other side of the elevator. You can come up at any time to take a look around.”

“Alright.” I handed him his phone back. “I think I’ll go visit once Jeonghan tours me around the place.”

“Then that's decided.” “What's decided?” Beside Junhui, Seokmin asked.

“Mind your own business.” Junhui picked a piece of cutlet up and stuffed it into Seokmin’s mouth. “Eat your food.”

Nothing else interesting happened after that. When everyone was almost done, I looked up at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see that the time was already nine.

“Who is on dishwashing duty today?” I hear Chan say. Everyone gradually got up from their seats and so did I. Soonyoung and Seokmin came over to me. “Hey, Raeyang! We’ll send you up, Jihoon’s on dishwashing duty today.”

“That reminds me. When you’re bringing Raeyang around tomorrow, show her the roster list,” Seungcheol said to Jeonghan, who waved at me. Mingyu had already disappeared into the kitchen, and Vernon strolled past me with a couple of dirty plates on a tray. “See ya, new neighbour.”

“See you… Thank you for the meal!” I said, as Soonyoung led me to the door. Wonwoo waved as Mingyu’s head popped out from behind the kitchen door.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it! See you tomorrow!”

“Oh, Raeyang!” I turned. Jeonghan was still in his seat, and he gave me a lazy smile. “Nine in the morning, tomorrow.”

I nodded in reply as Seokmin closed the door behind me. Both of them led me back towards the elevator, and Soonyoung turned to me. “How was it?”

“The food’s pretty great,” I replied, smiling.

Seokmin nodded in agreement. “Of course, Mingyu’s a famous private chef for the rich.”

“Really?” I asked, shocked.

Seokmin grinned. “Yeah, so it’s a privilege to have him cooking for us every day. I cook too, if I’m on kitchen duty…”

“Seungcheol mentioned the roster list…”

“It’s the big board on the first level. Jeonghan hyung will bring you to check it out tomorrow. I think there’s going to be a shuffle of roster duties since you’re here,” Soonyoung pressed the button on the elevator. The doors quickly opened and we all stepped in. “It’s mainly stuff like gardening, dishwashing, trash emptying, and grocery shopping. Seungkwan was all about organic food intake, so we grow our own vegetables. Still, we don’t really have a farm, and the meat’s got to come from somewhere.”

“Don’t worry too much about it, there’s fourteen of us to balance the roster anyway,” Seokmin said as the elevator doors slowly opened for us to alight. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Raeyang. Have a good night!” He waved, and I waved back.

“Thank you, Dokyeom.”

“Don’t mention it. See ya, Hoshi.” A big smile hung on Seokmin’s face as he walked towards the opposite corridor of Soonyoung and me. “Bye, Kyeom.”

As Soonyoung and I walked back to our own apartments, he spoke. “If you can’t sleep tonight, Raeyang, you can take the elevator up to the fifth level. There’s a terrace up there. You might meet one of the others if you’re there, though. The stars are pretty clear and obvious over here.”

He pointed up, and I noticed the ring on his finger. “Can I ask you something, Hoshi?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you guys know each other for a very long time?” Soonyoung followed my gaze, looking at the silver ring on his pinkie. “I noticed that all of you wore that ring.”

“Ah.” Soonyoung pulled the ring off his pinkie, holding it out in front of me. “You mean this? Well, you could say that I have known these guys for almost all my life,” he said with a fond smile. “This is a… I guess you could call it a symbol of our family.”

Soonyoung’s initials were carved into the silver ring. I removed my gaze from it, looking at him. “My father had a ring with his name engraved on it too,” I said lightly, missing the way Soonyoung’s shoulder tensed. He cleared his throat, putting his ring back on.

“Well, maybe you'll get yours too. I think Joshua hyung’s asking everyone to vote on the design for the new ring.”

“New ring?” I repeated. “You guys change it often?”

“From time to time. Sometimes one of us gets tired of the design.” We stopped in front of my door. “Have a good night, Raeyang.”

“You too, Hoshi. Thank you for today.” I opened the door, turning to him.

What I didn't know was that as soon as I closed the door, Soonyoung’s smile faded. He clicked his tongue impatiently, staring at the ring on his pinkie as he muttered something under his breath. If I had been there, I would have been shocked at what he said.

My father’s name.

previous // next

series taglist — @seungkwanschicken @emily505 @black-swan-blog27 @callmeagardengnome

permanent taglist - @sousydive @yeodeulz @oddracha @jaerisdiction @yukichan67

@evidive @onysmamas @hoeforalbedo @fantasy2wonderland @epiclegend19

i do not own the dividers nor pictures used in banner. all credit goes to their original owners. owner of animated / 18+ banner ; owner of rose banner

#☁️by k #☁️k's the maestro series #seventeen ot13 #seventeen ot13 x oc #seventeen fan fic #svt ot13 #svt ot13 x oc #svt crack #mansaenetwork

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hyakinthou-naos · 6 months ago

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Theoi Info Sheets Series Part 9: Dionysus

Bacchic Lord of Madness,

King Insanity,

When all the world has abandoned you

Marked you wrong Marked you foreigner Marked you trespasser in your own home

We will sing for you

Pulse pounding in ringing ears Blood dripping from unwashed hands Feet bruised from dancing, or chasing, or fleeing, And who can truly tell the difference?

Oh Lord of Wine and Pleasure

Oh King of Woods and Forests

Dionysus Mainolês Dionysus Nyktelios Dionysus Dimêtôr Dionysus Saôtês

Let our cries make tragedies

Let our screams be symphonies

If all the world's a stage - Then Lord of play and theatre Let this be not the finale - but just an intermission Let the show go on.

- A Show of Maddness; A Hymn to Dionysus

Dionysus is a God unique in my personal practice. Typically those within my Personal Pantheon are worked with, honored, and worshipped regularly.

However, while I consider Dionysus part of my personal pantheon, I commune with Him infrequently and He does not hold a standing spot on my altar.

Dionysus, to me, is like a comet. He comes around every so often, sometimes when expected and other times when not; but He is always welcome.

I often synchronize Him with Lord Shiva, the Destroyer - and in that way when I feel closer to Him when engaging in the Hindu parts of my practice. Which, like my interactions with Lord Dionysus, are infrequent and often unplanned.

He is a divinity of mystery, with layers and depth that I feel are hard to understand. He, to me, is like a Solar Eclipse; rare and beautiful but something I cannot look at directly or regularly.

Divider/Banner Credit

*You may have seen this info sheet before on thewitchfarhan.tumblr.com - that is my old Tumblr. These info sheets are my own creation - please do not repost without credit.

#Theoi Info Sheets #Theoi Info Sheet Series #Theoi Info Sheet #Dionysus #Lord Dionysus #Dionysus Deity #HelPol #Hellenic Polytheism #Hellenic Polytheist #text and image post #The Temple of Hyacinthus #Hymns

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amarynthian-chronicles · 8 months ago

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Our Guest Chapter 1

Vampire!Sun, Vampire!Moon, Vampire!Eclipse x Hunter Reader

(You arrive at a sinister and luxurious castle with the innocent intention of checking why its mysterious residents haven't been paying any taxes or utilities for the past several centuries. Very useful excuse for a vampire hunter to have when trying to do some good old infiltrating. The three vampire lords however, fully intend to capture and seduce you, but that is a bit difficult when you keep asking them about their financial books. Will they be able to make you theirs? Are they onto your little schemes and playing along? Will you finally get that plate of cupcakes? We'll find out)

“There is a beautiful and delicious darling waiting at our castle door, brothers.“

“This is practical, normally we have to go out and hunt for one of those. Apparently the whole process switched to free postal service.“

“I can taste the tantalizing sweetness in their veins even from here. All shall envy our fortune, no other lord of the night will ever have access to such nectar.“

Three vampiric aristocrats were huddling together behind the velvet curtains, trying to get a discreet peek at the unexpected visitor that had rung the castle doorbell, disturbing their nocturnal activities. The boys had been on their best behaviour. Trust them.

Prior to this, Marquis Moon had been composing a new sonata, writing notes in expert penmanship before playing the piece beautifully, but no beloved was there to hear it. Viscount Sun had just been in the middle of painting a new masterpiece, creating wonders with each stroke of his brush, but he had found himself in need of a model to pose for him.

Grand Duke Eclipse's craftsmanship was unmatched when it came to jewellery, his combinations and designs of precious stones and metals resembling physical manifestations of poetry, yet no beauty had been available to wear them, no delicate fingers to offer home for his rings nor lovely neck he could adorn with gold and rubies.

How convenient of you to come and solve their problems, dear Y/N!

You stood at the door, umbrella in hand, calm, smiling, without a care in the world. Possibly wondering why it was taking so long for someone to come to the door. Truth be told, it was a pretty big castle, maybe the residents just needed time to get from one side to the other, you never know.

The three brothers eyed you through the window with hunger, lust and curiosity. It was quite cold outside and your cheeks were red. You were doe-eyed, delectable, theirs for the taking.

Moon's preternatural senses were sharper than those of his brothers, capable of detecting even the smallest of details when it came to analysing a living creature, perfectly appropriate skills for a hunter of his calibre. He could hear the stable rhythm of your heart, memorising it as if it were a beat of a musical piece, something he should use in composing. He could make a whole symphony with your heartbeat as inspiration for tempo, the flow of your sweet blood serving as inspiration for the flow of his music.

Moon spoke, his voice almost a raspy whisper:

“Most unusual, not a single trace of fear in them. Posture almost immaculate, joy and confidence in their bearing, almost as if they just entered an amusement park. Shall we give them a little scare? The steady cadence of their heart could use some excitement, every calm melody needs a good crescendo from time to time.“

Viscount Sun huffed, disagreeing:

“Fear adds such a bitter taste and ruins both the palate and the palette. Various emotions change the chemical components of the nectar of life, different combinations create different flavours, similarly how different colours form various new shades on the canvas. Just look what a soft little thing they are. Such a delicate disposition, definitely not made for this type of weather nor your sadistic chasing games, Moonie.“

“Do not spoil my fun, Sunny.“

“Why chase when you can entice?“

“That is a very interesting way of admitting that you are tragically bad at tracking prey.“

“If only you were as good at throwing compliments as you were with throwing insults, you wouldn't have to chase anyone in the first place.“

Eclipse held up a red beryl gem and gazed at it, as if silently asking a question. A green mist appeared within, whispering to him in a language only he could understand. He listened intently, maroon circles appearing in his golden eyes for a swift moment, before disappearing. All in due time.

Sun and Moon were still having their little argument and he decided it was time to put an end to it:

“Enough, we cannot keep them waiting out there forever. They will freeze before any of you gets a chance to do anything at all. We should warm them up.“

As you were waiting for someone to finally deign to answer the door, you took your time to admire the castle's exterior. You were very fond of such aesthetic and your inner scholar felt like a cat that had fallen into a whole basket of catnip.

Even in the dark of the night and heavy rain, it was fairly easy to discern that it was a place of splendour, its design a combination of Renaissance and Gothic architecture. There was a wide variety of turrets and towers, marvellous rose windows, loggias and galleries, facade ornaments containing statues of figures from Classical antiquity.

Nevertheless, Beauty always had an interesting tendency of holding hands with the Grotesque. Therefore, something lugubrious reigned in the air, a perpetual feeling of gloom, as if there were an echo of forgotten funeral bells, suspended between reality and imagination. Life and Death, Luxury and Decay, all of it intertwined in a shameless orgy of contradictory concepts.

October rain was a perfect proverbial cherry on top. Honestly, there was no better time of the year to make a little detour at such a place. It just didn't hit the same if one were to visit a sinister chateau in June.

The season of Autumn had arrived like an old friend, having just gotten out of its elegant carriage, clad in russet cloaks and vermillion capes, bringing gifts, ripe grapes and apples, calling for harvest and summoning everyone to bask in the final rays of golden sunlight before stern Winter shrouds the land with snow.

However, your particular journey had a few setbacks, forcing you to use all of your negotiation skills to get a local taxi driver to get you to the desired address.

The aforementioned driver was currently sitting in the parked car, keeping the engine running, waiting for your further instructions. He was looking at the building's imposing structure with an expression of visceral fear and the only thing holding him from simply driving away was the suspiciously large amount of cash you had given him to bring you there in the first place.

How lovely, all of our main characters were so trustworthy.

Other than your sudden presence, all had seemed to be perfectly peaceful in our dear castle, not a creature stirred. The bats were napping, the owls nesting, the spiders were wondering whether they should protect their web designs in the central intellectual property system. All was calm. Well, a few poor fellows in the dungeons may not have been having the best time of their lives, but you can't make everyone happy.

You had gotten yourself well-acquainted with the names and ranks of your targets. Pardon, “auditees“. Although, considering the nature of your visit, both terms could equally apply, the revenue and audit business was a cruel one. You had done extensive reading on the subject of their suspicious “economic activities“, along with all the macabre phenomena that had been connected to them. You should be feeling some sort of anxiety over the whole task, but honestly, you were rather giddy. You loved a challenge. What a wonderful way to spend the spooky season.

The heavy door opened in front of you. You looked upwards at the looming shadowy figure, a pair of golden eyes glowing in the penumbra, a deep husky voice greeting you:

“Do my eyes deceive me? A bright morning star is visiting us, is it dawn already? Welcome, welcome, bringer of light.“

“Good evening, sir. Please accept my sincere apologies for disturbing your household so late. You are the Grand Duke, I presume?“

“What a polite little thing you are. Indeed, you presume correctly. Now, why are you here in the middle of nowhere at such an ungodly hour? Lost your way?“

The vampire lord was looking at you as if you were the last scrumptious morsel on that side of the known universe, which could be interpreted as both flattering and unnerving.

Before you could answer, you noticed that two additional figures appeared at his side, a gaze of menacing crimson and one of ardent blue. You spoke, tone chirpy and cheerful:

“The Marquis and the Viscount! What an honour, I only heard the best about your artistic talents.“

“Oh, did you come all the way here for an autograph, dearest? Or perhaps a private performance?“

You smiled at them, tilting your head like a kitten that was trying to charm its owner into getting treats.

“May I come in? I will make it quick, I promise.“

The three of them gave each other a look, grinning as if thoroughly amused.

“Interesting, usually we are the ones asking such a question. Come in, come in! Do tell us, are you a tourist? We love tourists that desperately need assistance with directions. Adore them, very much so.“

“You love to help them?“

“Hm? Ah, yes, yes. Definitely love to help them.“

“Actually, I have been sent by the Revenue and Audit Bureau, I am here on official business. The usual, suspected tax fraud, unpaid utilities and so on. “

They definitely didn't expect that. Oh, no, no. Confusion reigned for a solid minute, before you casually presented your very legitimate credentials, letting them read. Sun was the first to break the silence with a slightly hysterical laugh. He reached to give you a little pat on the head.

“Are you now, my pretty? We still love making new friends, even when they come from financial institutions!“

“The taxi is waiting for me with my baggage still, so I won't take long and will just ask you a few preliminary questions. This visit was really just intended for me to announce that I would be conducting this procedure in the following days. I will be making a few additional visits during the week just for the sake of the inspection, then I shall be on my merry way with the report.“

“Nonsense! We cannot let you go back on the road in this weather. Besides, the local hotel is more terrifying than a graveyard at the witching hour. Do stay with us, we have plenty of comfortable chambers, we cannot let you fly away like a little comet in the night.“

“Oh, you are very generous, but that won't be necessary. Business aside, it is still a great pleasure to make your acquiantance.“

You extended your hand to them, expecting a firm and professional handshake. What could possibly go wrong there?

Everything.

Your eyes widened when the Grand Duke took your hand and kissed it, taking his sweet time. By the time he released it, your cheeks must have gone through several shades of red.

“The pleasure is all ours, morning star.“

As if that wasn't enough to make your heart skip a beat or ten, the Viscount and Marquis joined the fun, as well, each of them placing little kisses on your knuckles.

Alright, apparently neither side would be playing a fair game.

They knew exactly what they were doing. Their gestures and ministrations provided an excellent distraction, making you drop your mental defenses for a few precious seconds, enough for them to work their spell on you as you began to lose yourself in their eyes.

Several firm rules existed when it came to dealing with vampires and you just messed up the most crucial one: do not let yourself be mesmerized.

And yet.

Combine that with your natural curiosity and desire for knowledge, and there you have it, a freshly baked disaster, straight out of the oven.

Suppressing your fascination with the three of them had suddenly become a very difficult task. You had never seen such facial structures nor anatomy before. True, you had seen your fair share of weird things in your short little life, but you were still very much taken aback.

The three aristocrats possessed celestial features reminiscent of their heavenly namesakes, a perfect union of Beauty and the Grotesque, allowing such an appearance to be more alluring than simply awe-inspiring. The brothers were preternaturally handsome, of impressive height, wolfish grins always present, everything about them was perfectly tailored to entrap both willing and unwilling victims.

Sun's canines were discreet but still very sharp, appropriate for someone whose primary role was to lure and enchant. Moon's were far more prominent and intimidating, the rest of his teeth possessing a similar razor edge, fit for a predator meant to deliver efficient results. Eclipse's were the sharpest and most lethal, establishing his status of being the most formidable and terrifying member of the group.

Rich scents were lingering in the air around them, amber, vanilla, cardamom, rose oil, lovely, oh, so lovely.

It took you a solid several seconds to register the fact that you still had to use your words to speak, but the glow of their eyes was so magnificent, magnetic, such ethereal beauty, entire worlds were present in them, promising pleasures untold.

It was as if the concept of time had suddenly been shattered like a fairy tale mirror, seconds became centuries. How long had you been silent and simply standing there in pure adoration?

And yet, a certain part of you suddenly awakened, grasping the rest of your soul by the hand and pulling it out of the mindless haze, showing that it had power strong enough to escape the tendrils of darkness. You had a task, after all. Let's remain professional.

Unbeknownst to you, the brothers were somewhat shocked with your ability to get your mind back on track, even after direct exposure to the hypnotic power of all three of them. True, they had only been using a low level of their mind control magic, but it was still impressive, considering that most humans would simply choose to remain in the comforting embrace of oblivion. Why on earth would anyone choose to return to the cold fields of reality?

During all of that, your grip had slackened on the umbrella's handle and a suspiciously strong wind current blew it away right out of your hand before you even had time to realize what is going on, leaving you unprotected from the pouring rain.

By the time you had finally returned to your senses, you were partially soaked from the deluge and the wind was really not doing you any favours. You made a cute sneeze, followed by another.

“Pardon me. Now, as I was saying-“

Another adorable sneeze. You honestly hoped that this wouldn't make your reputation suffer one day.

Eclipse casually commented, smirking:

“You won't be able to last the drive to the hotel like that. Unless you are prepared to deal with potential pneumonia.“

Before you could protest, Sun eagerly trapped both your hands in his grasp, giving them a little squeeze and massaging them as if trying to warm you up. He didn't let go even when you tried to pull away.

“Goodness, darling comet, your hands are so cold. You will catch your death out there, we must insist that you stay here with us for the whole week. It is very cozy and comfy inside, we can build you a whole nest of blankets after a nice hot bath. Moonie, go get their things and give the good driver some extra compensation, will you?“

You blinked as Moon passed by with a speed that was certainly not normal by any means. You could have sworn that you felt the most tender of caresses along your cheek, a motion so swift that your eyes could barely catch it, but your nerves certainly did. It was difficult to supress a shudder.

Enthusiastic and almost mad with glee, Moon got all of your things from the car, hastily throwing a bag full of jewels in the taxi driver's face as additional payment, ignoring the man's muffled yelp, before dashing right back at the door, carrying your baggage as if it weighed nothing.

A few moments later the only thing that was heard was the rain falling and the sound of the car tires shrieking as it drove off, leaving you alone with your eager and enamoured hosts.

You made a little squeak of surprise as you were suddenly pulled inside, the door closing and making a dramatic echo in the stormy night.

A few words were in order regarding the noble residence. The whole castle served both as a comfortable home and as a convenient trap for newcomers. It was true that the classical process of hunting provided a wonderful thrill, a tingle so exquisite that nothing could compare. Chasing and tracking chosen prey, what a delight, sensing the beating heart, the warmth of blood, bliss beyond description. However, there were times when it seemed appropriate to play a more elegant game, inviting and letting the victims enter the web willingly.

Therefore, our handsome vampire lords had a habit of organizing ostentatious dance parties, having a very strict dress code where all the guests had to dress in accordance with the fashion of the late 18th century. A grand feast would be prepared, fireworks, concerts, luxuries that would place kings to shame, a decadent display of wealth and desire. The celestial vampires would then proceed to charm and seduce their victims, one by one, all of them giving themselves, mind, body and soul.

If all went well, and usually it did, the experience could be pleasurable for all those involved. One drinking from the neck, the other two relishing the sweetness on the pulsating wrist arteries. If things were a bit more amorous, all of them would nibble and drink the precious blood from the inner thigh area.

Sharing was caring, after all.

There was something beautifully intimate about the whole process. Drinking life. Hungry licks and bites, gestures of both a lover and a murderer. For an enemy, tearing out the heart and drinking from the source seemed like a worthy way of evening an old score, but for allies it would always be a pleasant little bite and a quick drink, leaving the victim alive and well.

They harboured a heightened appreciation of the human body. Flesh was aesthetically pleasing, beautiful, pulsing with life, warmth, all those wonderful things that were ready to be stolen. Blood illuminated by moonlight, blood illuminated by early rays of dawn. Art, it was pure art.

Furthermore, the brothers had additional powers conveniently associated with their artistic skills. Temporary enthrallment was a wonderful tool, but they created their own ways of ensuring a more permanent bond with those they allowed to live, assuring that no matter where they run, they could always be called upon and summoned like obedient pets.

Sun would sometimes use some of the precious blood as an additional pigment ingredient for his paintings, no different from Moon at times combining it with ink to write musical notes as he composed. It served as a type entrapment of the person's mind, having a part of them forever bound to them, their soul captured in their art, their music.

If Moon were to play a piece written with the blood of one person, they would immediately succumb to the pull, making haste to heed their master's call no matter what. Similarly, if Sun were to paint with that specific colour containing the blood pigment, he could make the person do whatever the picture was showing in that current moment.

Eclipse's ability was the most potent, he was capable of trapping the entire soul of a person in jewels, ensuring absolute control over their mind and heart whenever he wished. In death they would remain his prisoners, their spirits and energy his to use as he pleased.

Such magic was terrifying even in the world of vampires and therefore a majority of them had acknowledged the celestial brothers as royalty among immortals.

Now, let us return to your fun little predicament with those very sane individuals that certainly only had your best interests at heart.

Moon made haste to bolt the doors as soon as you were inside, of course. Sun's giggle was slightly maniacal as he winked at you.

“Security reasons, my pretty. You never know what beasts are lurking out there, dangerous times we live in.“

You pouted, removing your soaked coat and trying to get your hair to somewhat dry by combing your fingers through it.

“Oh, yes, that is quite true that one can never be too careful, my dear sir. In fact, I think I saw a few life insurance agents on my way here. Truly frightening creatures, the lot of them, wouldn't recommend meeting them in a dark alley under any circumstance whatsoever.“

Moon's voice was close once more, it seemed almost as if he moved as swiftly as a shadow, one could miss him within a single blink.

“There could be some other monsters wandering around, shining comet.“

“Such as?“

“Do you happen to know which creature of the Night feeds on the essence of the living, stalking and doing all it can to attract prey?“

“The HR department?“

Ignoring his confusion, your focus shifted to the grandeur of the interior. They weren't lying, it was undoubtedly cozy and wonderful to behold. Comforting heat was coming from the fireplace. Thick carpets with elaborate patterns were present all over the hardwood flooring. Walls were decorated with intricate tapestries and paintings, golden sconces, cabinets containing Venetian glass and crystal figurines, not a single surface was left bare. Vaulted ceilings, frescoes painted in each available bit of space, creating a wonderful effect that only a mad artist could concoct in a fever dream of divine inspiration.

Which is probably what had happened, considering Sun's habits.

However, elements of the supernatural and macabre continued to linger. Some paintings had eyes that seemed a bit too alive, while others would become more and more disturbing the longer you looked at them. Statues appeared to be capable of changing their pose at a whim and it was easy to miss the motion itself within a mere blink. Shadows cast from the fireplace were not following any law of physics, undulating and writhing on the floor as they please, sometimes creating monstrous shapes.

Marvellous. Beyond description, fascinating. Had it not been for your task, you would have gladly spent a whole eternity studying the components and properties of the whole structure.

You were brought back to reality when you realized that you were still very much shivering and that you really needed to get your hair properly dried.

You gasped as you suddenly felt Eclipse wrap his cloak around you from behind, pulling you closer to his form, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. Goodness gracious, was that a secret additional pair of arms he had?

“Sir!“

“There was no time to fetch you a blanket, consider this an urgent alternative.“

“Don't you think this is a bit of a compromising position?“

“Preposterous, that must be the feverish delirium talking. This cruel weather is detrimental for soft flowers such as yourself.“

“I suppose by this logic it must the delirium that is squeezing my hips right now?“

He purred in your ear:

“Relax, morning star, you need warmth, we cannot allow you to get ill under our care.“

“I think I am very warm now, though.“

“Hush, be still, let us take care of you.“

Viscount Sun made sure to get your attention once more.

“You know, sweetness, many have pursued us for various reasons, but tax evasion was never one of them. This is going to be a fun new experience for all of us.“

It was perfectly within your right to struggle and act indignant in order to free yourself, but you were aware that you had to be diplomatic and collected for the moment. Antagonizing your hosts would yield no results and would certainly make your job far more difficult than it needed to be.

You had to remain professional, it was a task like any other. Yes, your hosts were not really the best examples of sanity nor did they seem to be aware of the concept of personal space, but you couldn't let that distract you from your duties. Someone had to be mature in the whole situation, after all. You cleared your throat, trying to appear as dignified as possible in your current position.

Adjusting a bit, ignoring the fact that you were still being held tightly by four arms, you managed to reach for your pocket to get a little notepad and a pencil. It was a rather comical scene to behold, since you had limited options and an even more limited space to maneuver in, but by some miracle you were able to make a few scribbles on the paper. Such an action required the same skill level one usually achieves when trying to get work done with one cat asleep on their computer and five additional cats on their lap and head.

Sun was very much offended with you playing with the paper and pencil instead of letting him warm your hands. You spoke:

“Alright, I will need some basic information for now, such as source of income, registered businesses, unregistered activities that may go under the radar of the government. You do realize that there is an unusually large cemetery on the way here that is not even on the map?“

“I can answer all of those for you. Accumulated heirloom. Pleasure is our only business and business is doing well! As for the final one, well, it is such a tragedy how incompetent cartographers are these days, my dear.“

“Regardless, I still have to conduct a thorough investigation and write a report, it is a formal requirement. Also, it will be necessary that I take a tour around the place simply to inspect the installations. Since none of the utilities are being paid for either, I must see whether you have self-sufficient power sources.“

“Now, now, you can't explore all on your own, that would be against our rules. And you don't want to be a little rulebreaker. You cannot enter certain rooms or parts of the castle without our permission.“

“Understandable. You three can guide me during my stay, then.“

“Moreover, communication with the outside world is highly discouraged. So discouraged, that it is forbidden, actually.“

“May I ask why?“

“You may! We won't answer, but you definitely may ask regardless, your voice is so pleasant to listen to. Do you sing?“

“I am still processing the “no communication with the outside world with no explanation whatsoever as to why“ part, give me a moment. I think I need ibuprofen.“

“Oh, we do have that!“

Soft cloth suddenly fell on your head and you realized it was a towel. You slowly looked upwards, finding yourself face to face with Moon who was now shamelessly hanging upside down from a cord, crimson eyes as menacing as ever and grin impossibly wide.

You spoke, unsure how to even react properly:

“What on earth are you doing?“

“I was feeling excluded. And you needed something to get your hair dry.“

“How did you even get up there? You were at the door barely a few seconds ago.“

“In a very clandestine and stealthy manner, as is currently being demonstrated. Impressed?“

“Fine, yes. Happy?“

Moon giggled like a wicked imp, relishing the situation. Teasing you was slowly becoming his new favourite activity.

“Are you good at playing hide and seek, my everlasting aurora?“

To his surprise, you actually did ponder the answer to his question for a few moments. Finally, you smiled at him:

“The classical game has a predictable pattern, so I actually did invent my own twist once. I would count, the other person would hide, and then I would simply proceed to steal cookies from the kitchen without anyone knowing. Really practical. Free sweets, nobody knows who the culprit is, perfect cost-benefit analysis.“

Oh, he loved that. Moon definitely appreciated some good old-fashioned mischief and he felt an even greater desire to discover what made you tick. He reached with his hand, tracing along your jawline with his claws, before pressing the palm of his hand to your cheek, his wicked eyes never leaving yours.

“Naughty, naughty. You must be punished.“

“Retroactively?“

“With interest.“

“Good luck with calculating all of that. If you start early, you should be done by the next decade, give or take a year or two.“

Moon's mind was already imagining all sorts of scenarios that he had every intention of bringing into reality.

What a delight it would be to have you, play with you, chase you, catch you, taste you, forever and ever. Your blood was tormenting him, you were the golden apple stolen from a magical garden, ripe and delicious. He did not care how many pomegranate seeds it would take to ensnare you and chain you to his world.

One had to admire the dedication, at least.

He was familiar with that sly streak. Finally, a kindred spirit. You had something guileful within you, as if a joyful scherzo were constantly playing in your soul, lively and vivid, truly akin to an ethereal aurora borealis in the night sky, teasing mortals with its unreachable beauty.

Needless to say that Sun was simply not having this and he had to ruin the moment by intervening in the most mature way possible: by taking your pencil away.

“What is this I see? A hawthorn pencil? Quite sharp, I see. No, no, we can't have such a vile thing as hawthorn wood here, absolutely not, in the trash it goes where it belongs.“

You had every intention of arguing with him, but you were once again distracted with the fact that Eclipse was now diligently getting your hair dried with the towel as if you were a kitten they had found outside or something. Goodybe reputation, it was nice knowing you, write a postcard.

“I must say, nobody ever insulted my pencils before.“

Sun went over to the nearby desk, fiddling with some parchment until he found what he was looking for, returning with a triumphant grin on his face and a quill feather in his hand.

“You shall write with one of these.“

“I don't even know how to write with ink without making a mess.“

“Come now, I am sure you are a fast learner.“

You shuddered as he teasingly slid the feather along your cheek and neck.

“Oh, stop.“

We were all familiar with the saying about everything being about the journey and not the destination itself. Perhaps you could allow yourself some enjoyment in the whole affair. In all technicality, you did manage to get in the castle, so it was going well for now. Moon summoned a few ghostly servants to command them to get a comfy chamber prepared for you, as well as some dinner. You were rather tired and hungry, after all.

Eclipse gave your shoulder a little squeeze to get your attention.

“Now, morning star, since you are already here, could I interest you in some pretty necklaces you may like?“

You pondered his offer for a few moments, before shrugging, letting yourself relax.

“You know what? Sure.“

(continuation also on AO3)