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scorpioriesling · 2 days

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Guilty as Sin? (pt. 2)

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Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warnings: not as angsty as the first one, some Lucien x reader mentioned as they did discover they were mates in part 1

Summary: The day has finally come, and Y/N has made a choice. It turns out, you do know what you want, and how to go for it. Decisions can be hard, but... if you're willing to do what it takes to get what you desire...

SR’s Note: This is part 2 to Guilty as Sin? I would definitely read part 1 first so you have context. I hate leaving things on a low note, and part 2 was requested! So, here are solutions to both. Don't hate me. Lol. Tags: @deeshag @lilah-asteria @peachcontour-blog @going-through-shit @fxckmiup @sidthedollface2

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"And the flowers have been placed?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And, what of the seating chart? All of the name cards are on the actual chairs, are they not? I can't have anyone causing any chaos-"

"Y/N." Feyre lays a comforting hand on your upper arm, and you halt your rambling. She takes a deep breath in, motioning for you to do the same, and maintains eye contact as you both release it. She nods her head and gives you a comforting smile.

"We have been planning this ceremony for over a year now, dear -- I promise, everything is as you have asked. I wouldn't allow for any less." She says. You nod, you know she is telling the truth. As one of your closest friends, she's helped you plan your mating ceremony down to the most minute of details. Having gone through all of this herself already, she was one you trusted most with something so special and so important.

"Feyre, I can't thank you enough." You say, pulling her close for a hug.

"No need for gratitude -- I am happy to help," she says. When you pull away, you see tears gathering in her waterline. Stinging begins behind your eyes, and you look to the ceiling and laugh, her loosing a chuckle as she swipes at her lashline.

"Feyre you can't be tearing up yet -- I haven't even gone down the aisle!" You say, laughing again and steadying your breath. She smiles at you, taking your hands in hers.

"I know, I know. I just... I am so happy for you. I know you're going to be happy, and I am so proud of you for doing the best thing for yourself, and making a choice on your own that you find will geniunely bring you the most peace." She grins at you, and you return the sentiment. It had been a wild feat of mixed emotions with your best friend, Azriel, when you'd found out he had a mate. The two of you were inseparable; best friends for years; you didn't understand why he'd ever want anyone other than you. You could only thank the Cauldron for bringing him back to you, for leading him back to talk things out, and find a just solution for this huge problem that only you seemed to be the one noticing.

Feyre hugged you one last time, and pulled back to fix a few loose strands of hair framing your face. She shook her head slowly, a small smile still gracing her face.

"Whattt?" You whined, and she chuckled, stepping back to fluff out the long white tulle train flowing behind you.

"Nothing! I just... I can't believe two people I am so close with have been brought together in such a way like this." She says, standing and facing you once more. "And, you look beautiful. He's going not going to know what to do with himself when he sees-"

"Ohhh hush, now," You say, a giggle erupting from her throat. She stills when a soft, whimsical melody begins, and her round eyes focus on you.

She looses a breath, taking a hand in yours. You can't help but feel a little nervous; it was your mating ceremony, after all. "Are you ready to do this?" She asks. You let out a calming breath, and give her a solid nod of your chin.

"Absolutely."

Feyre's reassuring hand never leaves yours as you approach the end of the aisle; the warm, late-afternoon sun illuminating every crystal and glimmer embedded into your gown. You round the corner, and step into view as all of the attendees at your private ceremony rise in unison. Your eyes meet your awaiting betrothed's; and Feyre was right, he looks as though he has no idea what to do with himself. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and you can't help but chuckle, silently praising Feyre for persuading you do choose this mermaid gown instead of the one that made you "look like a cupcake".

"I told ya," she whispers, and you chuckle, pulling her close as she continues to lead you past the rows of your closest friends and family. Cassian's eyes meet yours, giving you one of the biggest golden-retriever smiles as he tries to hold back his tears. The sight of it alone has your eyes burning again, the love your found family is always ready to offer you. You pass Nesta, who smiles at you politely, and Rhysand, holding little Nyx who is not crying, but staring wide-eyed at you. You offer him a little wave, and he grins at you, and you realize you've finally made it to the first row of chairs. Your awaiting husband stretches his hand out to you, hands you've come to know oh-so well; hands that have gently traced circles on your back, brushed yours and sent sparks through you many a time. Your eyes meet his and Feyre kisses your cheek softly, letting go of your arm and returning to her empty chair next to Rhys. You slide your fingers into his awaiting palm, and he all but pulls you into him right then and there. You face him, admiring his beauty as he grinned boyishly at you, his thumbs running over your knuckles as he held your hands in his. He leaned in close, pressing a small kiss to your cheek.

"You look... breathtaking." He whispers against your ear. You giggle, his breath tickling your skin and he pulls back to oogle at you once more.

"HEY, THAT'S CHEATING!" Cassian's voice bellows from a few rows back, and the crowd erupts with small laughs. You can't help but chuckle as well, meeting your fiance's eyes and sharing the sentiment. The only one not finding it hilarious is Nesta, who swats his shoulder and mouths you an I'm Sorry. You meet her eyes in the crowd, waving a hand in an It's Okay motion. As your eyes sweep back toward the front, you meet Elain's gaze in the front row. She offers you a kind nod, and you reciprocate the sentiment. It feels as if everything that had happened, all of the upset and hurt feelings over the initial bond her and Azriel had; it was all ancient history now. Especially now. You catch sight of the male to her right, those familiar fiery, golden-red locks so hard to miss. He offers you a charming grin, and you understand so, so well why everyone is so attracted to the Vanserra's; they practically exude charm. It isn't until you look to Elain's left that your heart warms, just a little. You meet the familiar stare that you'd come to know so well, and cared for so deeply, now looking back at you from the front row with nothing but joy across his face for the journey he knew you'd chosen to embark on.

Your attention is turned back to your fiance when Gwyn begins her speech, standing behind the two of you under the archway of blossoming Marigolds; courtesy of the season, of course. Just like Feyre promised.

"We've come together this lovely Autumn afternoon, to celebrate the mating ceremony of Lucien Vanserra and Y/N..."

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Your face was beginning to strain from how long you'd spent smiling. It didn't take long for Lucien to notice -- it didn't take long for Lucien to ever notice anything was amiss with you -- as he pulled you close and tenderly grazed his fingers over your cheek.

"What is wrong, my love?" He asks. You sigh, peering up into his amber and golden eyes. The frown you'd had fades in an instant, as you find it hard to be in any kind of foul mood around Lucien. Around your mate.

"Well... if you just... keep doing that..." You nuzzle into his touch, and he smirks down at you, his other hand reaching around to lightly scratch the back of your scalp. You let out a soft moan, and he chuckles.

"I can see it's working then," he states. You nod, eyes fluttering closed.

"You always know just..." You move close, wrapping your arms around his slim torso. "Just what I need, Lucie." He retreats his fingers after a few moments, and you open your eyes to meet his gaze once more. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips once more, this one just as warm and loving as the one offerred in front of everyone at the end of the aisle hours before. You'd danced, ate, drank, and celebrated for the better part of the night, but as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky, you began to feel more inclined to retreating back to your shared flat and spending the rest of your night beside your mate.

"That's because I'm just-" He took one hand in yours, twirling you around once before pulling you close to him again. "...So, so in love with you my dear." You can't help but giggle at his cheesiness.

"Ughhhh, man, you guys really need a room or something," Eris' playfully dramatic tone draws closer, and you turn to face him. He approaches you with a smile, offerring a hand to his brother. He pulls him close, patting a hand on his back and hugging him tight. You can't help the wave of emotion that washes over you; in the time you spend getting to know your mate, falling in love with your mate, you'd learned so much that haunted him -- but one of those things would not be his oldest brother, not anymore. You couldn't help the joy you felt knowing how happy it made Lucien to finally have that relationship rekindled with his closest sibling.

When they pulled apart, Eris took your hand gentle hand in his, kissing the top lightly and looking between the two of you.

"Seriously, though, congradulations. Truly, I am happy for you brother." You glance at Lucien, heart swelling to see the happiness in his eyes. "Y/N, I couldn't be happier to welcome you to the family." He offers you a small bow, and you smile in response.

"Thank you for coming today, Eris -- I know it means a lot to Lucien, and I was happy you could make it." Eris chuckles, turning to head out.

"I wouldn't have missed it!"

You peer at your husband once more, only to see him already looking to you. His expression softens when he notices your watery gaze.

"Heyy, hey hey, love bug. Whatever is the matter?" He asks. You smile at him, wishing you could put it all into words so simply, but you just... couldn't.

"Am I allowed to cry?" You ask. "I'm just... I'm so happy Lucien. Today couldn't have gone any better, were officially mated... I truly couldn't have it any better." You say. Lucien pulls you in, kissing the top of your head. When you've collected yourself, you both decide to mingle for a bit longer before retiring to your flat. Lucien had found Jurian and is laughing heartily over something, when you feel shadows lingering close by.

"You really are in love, are you Y/N?" Azriel's question comes from your left, and you tilt your head to see him. He sips from a crystal glass full of amber liquid, and you sigh, gazing back toward the only male you deemed truly perfect.

"Yes... I think I truly, truly am." You say. Azriel throws his head back, draining the glass and setting it on a nearby table. You glance around for Elain, figuring she would still be here if he was, but there was no sign of her.

"I'm so happy for you, ya know." He says quietly, gazing sidelong at you through his thick lashes. You offer him a knowing smile, rolling your eyes. Your best friend's relationship with you wasn't usually so sentimental like this, but it was a welcome change.

"Yeahhhh, yeah." You waved a dismissive hand, but Azriel's scarred fingers caught it midair and held firm.

"I'm serious, Y/N -- you're my best friend. You mean a lot to me. Your happiness, means a lot to me." He gazed into your eyes solemnly, and you dropped your eyes to where the two of you touched. His forearm still bore the black ink you'd once stanciled on him, looking almlost as fresh as the day he'd had it imprinted there. You thought after his ceremony those years ago he would have gotten it removed; but, he promised he wouldn't. He didn't care that he had a mate, "I still have a best friend too", he'd told you.

"Well," you began, unlacing your fingers from his as his gaze held on your eyes. Never would you have thought you'd pull away from him; but that was before. That was before the Cauldron had blessed you with such a perfect mate. A perfect male you didn't think you'd ever deserve; one you didn't know you needed.

"Well..." He repeated. You only smiled at him. All of those feelings you'd had, Gods... they hurt. They hurt so bad. But, as you looked at your best friend now, all you saw was just that; your best friend. You no longer had wished for messy top lip kisses with Azriel; there was no more longing for your trysts. You could kick yourself for ever feeling that way to begin with. But that was before Lucien. That was when you were still wasting your time, denying yourself the satisfaction of getting to know your mate and instead, pining over someone who already had one.

"Well... you can consider me happy." You say, and Azriel flashes you an award winning smile. You smile back, and he pulls you into a sincere embrace.

"And you can still consider me your best friend. Of all the friendships I have, I'd still choose you and me. Because you're my best friend, Y/N," Azriel mumbles into your hair. You sigh in contentment, releasing any last small piece of you clinging to him as more than a friend. You smile to yourself, secure with your choices in who you choose to love; whether that be as a best friend, or as a mate.

"And you're mine."

*✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

#Spotify #acotar series #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #lucien acotar #acowar #rhys acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #pro lucien #azriel smut #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar

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tamlinsrose · 2 years

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I want a happy ending for Tamlin. A happy ending without the NightCourt.

#I want him and Lucien to find back together #tamlin x lucien for life!#and Elain belongs in the SpringCourt too #tamlin #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #pro tamlin #pro tamlin healing arc #tamlin protection

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luxurychristmaspudding · 2 months

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Mutual | Lucien Flores x f!Reader

summary: you and lucien have both been invited to this dinner with explicit instructions: play nice. but it's kind of hard when you can't stand each other. even harder when the meaning begins to blur with his hands on you.

pairing: lucien flores x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. smoking, drinking. idk, hate fucking essentially. misuse of a champagne bottle, edging?, sexual tension, f!masturbation, unprotected p in v (you know what to do, and it's not this), oral (f!receiving). reader wears a dress and is implied to be shorter than lucien, but is otherwise undescribed.

wc: 4.8k

an: i succumbed.

The only thing you and Lucien Flores have in common is the need for a cigarette after dinner.

Nothing else.

You stand on opposite sides of the patio outside the open glass doors which lead back into Anna and Alex’s house, and you know that Anna, at the very least, will be watching you. Making sure you play nice.

Something you’d vowed to do when she’d called to invite you to this dinner party. Lucien will be there, she’d said, it’d be great for me, for us, if you two just tried to get along.

So far, you’ve succeeded. You’d listened politely to his stories at the table, hadn't even rolled your eyes when he laughed and joked and flirted with your fellow guests. You’d drunk your wine and stayed quiet through it all, offering your own contributions to the equal delight of the friends who'd gathered. You’d been surprised when Lucien had smiled along with them, even going so far as to chuckle at your story about the dog next door.

And now, outside, the rule still stands. You eye each other as you smoke, finding yourself amazed again by the way he doesn’t speak. Not a snide thing to say, no quip to make, just him watching you. Eyes flitting from your legs, to your hips, to your chest, to your face. And you’d tell him to quit it if you weren’t doing the same thing. If you weren’t enjoying the way his silk shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, the way his curls flop over his forehead, the way his chains catch the light, the way his stupid, pretty eyes glitter across from you. You hate yourself for it, want to crack some nasty sentiment across the stone, but you don’t.

You’re on your best behaviour, after all.

Something which Lucien has clearly forgotten as he pushes himself off from the wall he’s leaned against, stepping closer, closer to you by the bush with the red flowers. You brace yourself for whatever it is he’s about to say, for whatever smoke he’s about to blow in your face, gearing up for the taunt you’ll throw back.

He stops before you, barely an arms length away. You tense, waiting.

He holds out the bottle of champagne he’d swiped from the table on his way out. You blink at him.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m playing nice.’

You stare at him, sceptical. This is not Lucien. This is not something you’re used to.

But maybe he’s trying, too.

You take the bottle from him, and he lets it go easily. You watch him as you bring it to your lips, tipping it up until the bright fizz of the bubbles meets your tongue. He watches your mouth, pink slip of his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip as he drops the butt of his finished cigarette to the floor, not looking where it lands. You swallow, take another gulp for good measure, and hand it back to him. His fingers graze yours as you do.

You freeze at the jolt of electricity his touch brings, hand remaining outstretched as he brings the bottle back to his side. You watch, aloof, as he plucks your cigarette from your fingers and flicks it into the darkness before slotting your hands together, mind swirling as he pulls you closer.

‘Come on. Want to show you something.’

Maybe it’s the wine, but you can’t find the words to protest as he tugs you away to a deeper part of the garden.

Lucien turns you to face him at the furthest wall he can find, and you finally find your words as your back hits the concrete.

‘What did you want to show me?’

You glance around behind him at the flowers that burst from the ground, bright even in the darkening half light. The water feature Alex had installed last year trickles musically somewhere to your left, though you can't see it.

His answering grin is dirty, something fluttering in your tummy as you grind your teeth, nostrils flaring. You do not have the patience for this man, or the butterflies churning in your stomach.

‘Lucien.’

His hands find your waist and the curve of your ass in a flurry of movement, his grip strong, the bottle cold through the material of your dress. The air leaves your lungs. He hums as he draws himself close to your lips.

‘How beautiful you look tonight.’

You snort at him, disbelieving. He can’t be fucking serious.

‘Lucien, what the fuck -’

He cuts you off quickly, dipping to fit his mouth to yours in a searing kiss, hand moving from your ass to your jaw as he licks into your mouth. Your blood roars in your ears as your own hands scrabble to find purchase on his chest, slipping against the silk. You mean to push him away, but somehow you pull him closer, your body doing the opposite of what it’s told as you open your mouth further to him, groaning softly. He tastes like champagne and cigarettes, and you grip his neck to bring him further in, your other hand smoothing over his bunched shoulder, his strong bicep, down to his waist, fisting his shirt. He chuckles against your lips, and sharp anger surges in your gut. Shit. This is Lucien.

You use the hand at his middle to push him roughly away from you.

‘Get the fuck off me.’

He smirks, one hand still on your hip as he takes a swig from the bottle of champagne. You watch him, breathing heavily, stare as his lips close around the mouth of the bottle, and you're betrayed by what you’ve only pictured in your most secret moments. Your eyelids flutter, fingers twitch for him, cunt clenches around something that isn't there. He comes towards you again, and this time you close the gap, leaning forward to crash your mouth against his. You lick at the seam of his lips but he keeps them obstinately shut, and with irritation flashing through you, you drag your nails hard down his forearm in retaliation. He grips the nape of your neck, pulling your head back, and taking advantage of your open lips, spills the champagne off his tongue and onto yours. It's warm, still sparkling. Tastes like him. You swallow it down greedily, reminding yourself that you should be disgusted, certainly shouldn’t be pulling him in to kiss him again, shouldn’t moan so loud when he grinds his hips against yours as he rumbles how you drive him fucking insane against your neck. Shouldn’t be so wet, pinned up against this wall by a man you have long held such disdain for, shouldn’t grind back against him, shouldn’t be panting into his mouth like some kind of dog, shouldn't be forgetting where you are, who you’re with -

This time, you’re more forceful. Lucien stumbles back with hooded eyes and shining, swollen lips, his own breathing coming fast and deep. You stare back at him, still stunned, and without meaning to, your eyes drop down to his crotch, finding the fabric there tight with his arousal. He’s big, must be with the way his zipper is straining. Your mouth runs dry, your stomach swoops. Fuck.

You watch with as much disgust as you can manage as he palms himself roughly to relieve some of the ache, your own hands itching to do the same.

‘So pretty, baby,’ he teases, stepping forwards, head falling towards yours again. Why won’t he stay away? ‘So pretty, wanting me like this -’

‘Stop,’ you hiss. It’s unconvincing even to your ears, and he smirks like he knows. He knows. ‘I don’t - I don’t want you like this -’

He presses his forehead to yours, not touching you this time, instead letting his nose trace your cheekbone, your jaw, down to your neck.

‘You don’t want me like this?’ He purrs. You manage to shake your head. You can feel his smile as he laves a hungry, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, and you whimper, hot all over, so wet, so needy for him. He chuckles again. ‘No,’ he confirms. ‘Then maybe… like this.’

He sinks to his knees in front of you, curls mussed, lips parted, eyes blown. He stares up at you, reverent, taunting, as he skates his broad palms over the tops of your thighs, stroking the skin, murmuring how soft you are. Oh, and you are so fucking angry. So fucking angry as he grips and soothes your flesh, as he squeezes and kneads your ass, as you hold onto his strong shoulders and breathe his name. Even more pissed when he doesn’t have some kind of asshole comment to make, furious as he leans into you and presses kisses to where his hands have been, mouthing at your skin, leaving it wet with his spit, with champagne, so fucking mad as he sips from the bottle again and spills the liquid from his mouth onto your thighs, as he kneels back to watch it trickle over your knees, down your shins, to your feet, to drip onto the floor. You are on fire.

‘See? Beautiful.’ He murmurs. And oh, what you’d do. What you’d do to him. You’d pull at his hair and scratch at his chest and bite into his neck and you’d make him suffer, make him ache, make him feel the same heat you’re feeling. You just can’t seem to move.

Can’t seem to move as he brings his mouth closer to your cunt, splitting the folds of your wrap dress further, pushing his hands up to your hips, holding you still as he takes in your lace panties, the only thing covering you from him. He looks up to you again, burning with desire. Your cunt pulses painfully, and you hiss his name.

He smiles, cruelly.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he murmurs, ‘We’re playing nice, remember?’

Your retort dies in your throat as he presses his face to your clothed cunt and breathes in deeply. He moans loudly, and you whimper in response, hands flying to his hair at the feeling of his hot breath on you, tugging as he mouths at your pussy through the material. You feel his tongue, warm and strong, drag over the lace covering your clit and you groan, going slack against the wall. He nudges the swollen nub with his nose, his free hand coming between your legs to touch you.

‘So wet,’ he breathes, ‘That what I’m doing to you?’

You shake your head no even though he can’t see you, still playing with your pussy through your underwear. A plea bubbles up your throat, and you swallow it down. You will not beg Lucien Flores to touch you. You don’t even know how you got here in the first place.

But that’s forgotten as he moves again, kissing your clit through the fabric as he brings his other hand, still holding the bottle, between your legs. You hiss as he presses the lip of it to your hole, all protests forgotten as he grinds it against you, the pressure easing a small amount of the ache you feel.

You forget that it’s wrong as he uses it to push your panties to the side. Forget as he runs the cold glass through your wetness, almost do beg him to touch you, to lick you, to do something before he settles it against your slit, right where you think you might need it most.

‘Still don’t want me?’ he breathes against your skin.

A shallow breath escapes you.

‘Fuck you.’ You whisper, no conviction behind your words. He rests his forehead against your hip, and begins to press, begins to relieve some of that ache, that want -

‘Luce?’ Anna calls out from the direction of the house. You freeze, fist tightening around his curls, but Lucien is unphased, working the mouth of the bottle past the tight opening of your pussy. You gasp brokenly at the cool feel of it, fingers constricting even further. Lucien moans beneath you, moving to nose at the crease between your thigh and your cunt, pushing the neck of the bottle further in. You moan loudly, knees giving a little, and he clutches your hip tighter to keep you from falling.

‘Luce?’ Anna calls again, a little closer this time. You groan his name in response, torn between wanting more and wanting this to end before disaster.

The next Lucien? comes even closer, and you use your grip on his hair to pull his face away from you, tipping his head back so that he meets your eye.

‘Stop.’ You bite out. He grins and gives one more pump of the neck of the bottle. You whimper, head falling back to the concrete behind you as he removes it completely, rising to his feet with a groan. You watch, bleary eyed, leaking, chest heaving, as he dusts off his pants and adjusts himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He steps back and away, eyes raking over your body as he raises the bottle to his mouth, licking around the neck before taking a deep drink and disappearing back up the path.

He’s sick. You hate him.

You return to the house on shaky legs through the backdoor, hoping to make it to the bathroom, only to be intercepted by Alex. He’s scraping leftover food into the bin, and smiles as you enter before double taking at your appearance. You must look wrecked.

‘Are you alright?’ He asks, brow creasing with concern.

You hum, clearing your throat before answering.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

Alex raises an eyebrow at you.

‘Did he say something to you?’ he asks.

‘Did he - what?’

‘Lucien. Did he upset you?’

You blink at him. Right. Play nice.

‘I - no. He didn’t. He was actually quite pleasant.’

Alex stares at you.

‘Pleasant?’

‘Yeah.’

You hold his gaze for a little longer, feel a guilty little heat crawl its way through your belly.

You’re warm, so unbearably warm.

‘Is it alright if I go and lay down upstairs for a bit?’ You ask. ‘I feel kind of funny.’

Alex frowns, placing the plate he was holding on the counter.

‘Sure,’ he says, ‘Do you need anything?’

You smile weakly, shaking your head.

‘No,’ you reassure him, ‘That’s okay, thank you. I just need a moment.’

The guest room on the top floor is cool, and the curtains are open. Warm, orange light floods in from the street outside, and you settle yourself on the middle of the bed, ready to get this over with. There’s no way you can go back downstairs with this need, this coil wound so tight in your belly. You swoop your palms over your body, nipples tightening beneath your dress, feeling the swirl, the drip of yourself between your legs. You grind the heel of your palm against your mound and moan softly, rucking your dress up to your hips so you can slip your fingers beneath the lace.

Fuck, you are so wet. So goddamn turned on by that stupid man that you may as well throw your underwear away. You sweep a finger over your clit, hips twitching at the contact, eyes falling shut as you dip the digit to your entrance to collect your arousal, working the nub in tight circles.

Your legs fall slack as you build yourself up, moans falling from your mouth in quick succession as you imagine what it would have been like to have him take you there, against the wall. What it would have been like to be fucked with the bottle, to have his tongue really on you, mimicking your movements now, to fall apart against his mouth, see him pull away with your slick covering his face. You rock your hips against your hand, quickening your movements, fingers dipping in and out of your slit between working your clit as the coil tightens and tightens, as the hot, heavy feeling grows and grows, as sweat beads at your temples and the valley between your breasts, as you try not to moan his name -

Like you’ve summoned him, Lucien clears his throat in the doorway.

You snap your legs shut, heart hammering in your chest, heat blooming through your cheeks.

‘You fucking - asshole -’ you seethe, and he laughs, eyes roving over your sweaty body. ‘Get out.’

‘Wanted to check you were alright.’

You gape at him.

‘Fucking bullshit, Lucien,’ you grit, snatching your hand out of your soaked cunt. You bundle it in the silk of your dress as you try to cover yourself, but his eyes follow, tracing the glint of your slick in the dim light.

‘Seems like you’re okay, though,’ he continues, slouching against the doorframe. ‘Just look like you could do with some help.’

You choke on a laugh, frozen, glaring at him from the bed. He bites his lip.

‘You’re fucking insane.’

‘Insane enough to fuck you.’

You inhale sharply, trying to ignore the flash of arousal that shoots through you, clenching your jaw.

‘You are not going to fuck me.’

Lucien steps away from the doorframe, moving into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Without looking, he reaches out with one hand and twists the lock with a click.

He comes towards you slowly, eyes hungry. Your heart is in your mouth as you watch him, adrenaline kicking in so hard even you’re not sure what you want. Aren’t sure whether you can admit what you want.

He reaches the end of the bed before dropping a knee onto the mattress, reaching out to grab an ankle, pulling your leg flat. You burn at the feel of him holding you, preventing you from moving, from hiding.

‘Then stop me.’

You don’t. You can’t as he crawls his way up your body, as he touches every inch of skin he can so gently, so delicately. Fresh slick pools out of you at the feeling, at the sight -

His stupid puppy dog eyes and floppy curls and broad shoulders beneath his silk shirt, silk shirt that looks like sin as it drapes over him, moves with him like water, and his chains, his chains, how they’d look swinging over you as he buries himself inside you, raw and hungry and -

You can’t stop the moan that slips from your lips as his hand cups your cunt, as his mouth finds your neck. Body quickly liquid, molten beneath his touch, legs falling open.

‘Please -’ it slips from your mouth before you can stop it, but it feels good, finally, to have him give you what you need.

‘Good girl,’ he says, ‘Playing so nice.’

He slips his hand beneath the lace of your panties, trailing two fingers through your arousal, mirroring your moan as he does. He circles your clit, dragging you back to where you were, drinking down your noises with his mouth close enough to swallow your breath, but not close enough to kiss. You stare up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, a line forming between your brows. You gasp, so pretty, and he hums, slowing his movements to an agonising pace before slipping them from your heat entirely. You whine at the loss, huffing against the mattress, pouting at him pathetically as he smiles down at you.

‘Let’s get these off.’

He kneels back to pull your underwear away from you, and you wriggle at the cool air that comes into contact with your cunt. You watch, breathless, as he bundles them up and slips them into his back pocket, irritated, but not irritated enough to demand them back. They were expensive.

He drinks in the sight of your bare pussy with ravenous eyes, resting his cheek against the flesh of your thigh. The scruff of his beard tickles and scratches, the feel of it so Lucien, but you can't find it within yourself to care. He brings a single finger up to trace through your folds, and you whine desperately, embarrassingly at the sensation.

‘Pretty enough to make a grown man cry, baby,’ he hums, nuzzling your thigh as he blinks up at you with burning eyes. ‘You ever made a man cry before?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Wanna see if I can make you cry, too?’

He grins, a dirty little thing, before closing his teeth over the soft skin at your hip. You moan again, and he leans in closer, licking a long, hot, wet stripe from your hole to your clit. You shudder, a broken sound escaping your mouth. God, what is wrong with you?

‘So sweet,’ he murmurs, ‘You always this wet when someone teases you?’

You arch your back against him, head turning in the sheets.

‘No,’ you groan, ‘Get this wet when I’m about to make myself come.’

He huffs a laugh against you before driving his tongue against your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. He is hot and wet against you, so strong and soft like velvet as he tastes you, holds your thighs apart with his strong hands, fingers pressing in so hard you’re sure they’ll bruise. You writhe beneath him, hands flying to his hair, grinding up into his face. He licks and licks, devouring you, moving his head from side to side, gripping your hips to keep you moving against him as he quickly builds you again back to your high, sliding two fingers inside easily, curling them up into the spot deep inside you.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him, the strong curves of his body, the sweat on his forehead, the way his eyelids flutter at your noises, those deep brown eyes watching you with something carnal, something possessive in them.

You whine and moan above him, keening as he reaches his other hand up to swipe a thumb over your nipple, pinching it as you plead for more, as you tighten around his fingers, as you flood his mouth, as the toil tightens again, as you teeter on the edge -

Lucien pulls his mouth from you with a wet sound, withdrawing his fingers at the same time.

You cry out.

‘No,’ you whimper, ‘No, Lucien, please -’

‘Atta girl,’ he says, ‘I knew you could ask nicely. Knew you’d beg.’

Your back flies off the mattress as you reach to claw at him, ready to rip him to shreds, but he’s too quick, kneeling back again to undo his belt, unzip his fly, pull himself out, and oh -

Oh. Fuck. He’s big. The heavy weight of him held in his fist as he pumps himself slowly over you turns your clawing into gentler hands, and he moves so you can wrap yourself around his cock. He feels like silk, so close to his shirt, rock-hard and twitching as you move your hand languidly up and down his length, squeezing, swiping your thumb over his tip as it drips precum. It's hard not to admire him like this, hard to remember why you hate him so much. The ache between your legs borders on unbearable.

He groans loudly, rocking his hips before wrapping his hand around yours, untangling your fingers to hold himself again, guiding his cock towards your entrance. He runs his length back and forth between your folds, covering himself in your slick, feeling your clit twitch beneath him until you beg again - ‘Please, Lucien, please - fuck me -’ before he’s sliding home in one long stroke.

The air is knocked from you at the feeling, at how full you are. He hinges to cage you with his arms, and you clutch at his shirt as he begins to move, slow, so slow. He licks his lips as he watches your face, your mouth in a little ‘o’, neck straining against the pillow, and you move a hand to the back of his neck, wanting to kiss him, wanting to taste him, taste him taste of you. You want to take his plush bottom lip between your teeth and hold it there, hold it there until you taste blood. Bu he picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster, and you lose your grip, back arching as the delicious burn returns yet again.

‘Fuck -’ you gasp, ‘Holy fuck, Lucien, oh my god -’

‘I know, baby,’ he whispers, fucked out and broken as you already. ‘I know.’

He groans from somewhere deep in his throat, head thrown back to expose his neck, and you want to kiss him again, swallow him down, consume him whole.

You close your teeth over the chain that’s swinging in your face so he can't pull away, and he moans, forehead knocking against yours. You bite down harder, wanting it to break, wanting to shatter it, shatter him. As if he can feel it, he grinds deeper, harder inside of you. You feel yourself clench, feel it begin to spiral. You spit the jewellery out to whimper, scratch down the length of his back over his shirt. He feels so good. Feels so fucking good, and it’s infuriating.

‘I hate you,’ you whine breathlessly. He moans into your neck, breath hot and damp against your skin.

‘Yeah,’ he gasps, ‘Feeling’s mutual, baby.’

He marks the sentiment with a particularly dirty kiss to your throat, and with that, you see stars. You clench and break and stutter around him, splintering and bursting around his cock, crying out so loudly that he secures his large palm over your mouth.

‘Yeah, good girl,’ he pants, ‘Good fucking girl.’

You moan again, and he can feel your body twitch with the aftershocks, contracting and leaking around him. He takes both your legs in his hands and places them on his shoulders, folding you into yourself, fucking into you deeper, harder than before, hitting another angle even more intense than the last. You cry desperately into the pillow, wincing as you tighten again, impossibly fast, too intense, too far away to warn him. But he knows. He can feel it. Tries to hold himself back a little longer to fuck you through it, reaching down to thumb your clit, swiping through the mess you’ve made, he’s made, entranced by the sounds you’re making, the slick sound of him moving in and out of your cunt, the lightheaded feeling he’s got, the desperation, the urge, the need -

He breathes in the scent of your skin as his thrusts get sloppier, inhaling deeply through his nose. He wishes he could kiss you again. Wants to feel the press of your mouth against his, the breaths you take, your tongue against his.

But if he does, it’ll be over. The game will be up, because he won’t be able to hold back the real want he feels, where all this anger stems from. He’s so nasty, so mean because he wants you so bad. So bad, from the moment you met. From the moment you looked him up and down and listened to his arrogant introduction with a little sneer. He wants that attitude - wants to fuck it right out of you.

Your ankle smells sweet against his cheek, and he turns his head to kiss and bite the bone there, feeling you tense and pulse around him at the scrape of his teeth. You twist in the sheets, breathing ragged, eyes scrunched shut, fists clenching the cotton as you moan his name, as you try and bite back the gasps and cries of your second orgasm.

‘Again,’ he grits out, ‘Again.’

‘Lucien -' you cry, reaching for him, ‘Lucien, fuck -'

He comes at the first flutter as you clamp down around him. Buries himself right down to the hilt as he spills inside you, coming with a pained moan and a murmur of your name, eyes fluttering shut as he rocks in and out of your pulsing cunt, fucking his spend deep. He lets your legs fall from his shoulders as he catches his breath, steadying himself with a palm on the mattress as he watches you come down, staring at the rise and fall of your chest beneath your dress, nipples still straining against the fabric. He wants to take them in his mouth, wants to work you up to take you again, but he slips out instead, brushes his hair back from his forehead, watches his cum begin to dribble out of your puffy cunt. You catch him and reach down to run your fingers through the mess of you both, and Lucien looses a strangled groan as you feed it to yourself, tongue working over your digits. You remove them with a pop, sliding your legs closed and settling yourself on your elbows.

He kneels back on the bed, tucking himself back into his pants, trying to focus on something that’s not you for just a moment as you rearrange your dress and swing your legs off the bed. He feels like he should say something, something to cut across what you've just done. Something appropriately callous, but he can't bring himself to. Can't find it within him.

He hasn’t even finished buttoning his pants before you swan out of the room, dress as perfect as it was before, clinging to your curves, moving with your steps. You don’t look back at him as you leave, don’t utter a word.

That familiar flare of anger rises in his chest again. A muscle ticks in his cheek, and he sits down heavily on the bed, clasping his hands together over his knees. He takes a deep breath, exhales through his nose. He soothes himself with the thought of your cunt leaking his cum all over your seat downstairs, thinks about how it’ll ruin your pretty little dress. Tries not to think about how he won’t be tearing you out of it later, won’t be able to taste himself mixing with you like he wants to.

Tries not to think about the perfume you had applied to your ankles.

Tries not to think about how maybe, just maybe, you’ve thought about this, too.

#lucien flores #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #lucien flores fanfiction #the uninvited #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #lucien flores smut

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months

Text

Exile.

a/n I cried so hard I had to write something so here we are. So,I guess I'm inviting you to come cry with me. 🫧

warning: just sadness

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The heaviest thing that weighed on Azriel's chest was that he couldn't find a turning point that changed it all. A breaking point that shattered a perfect picture. That started to pull apart the only thing he thought was unbreakable in this world.

You had been his everything ever since Rhys's mother had taken both Azriel and Cassian under her wing. He still remembered you peeking from behind your mother's dress. Big, purple eyes staring at him. As big and as scared as his. As skittish and nervous as him. You two had observed each other for weeks. Running away the moment your eyes met. Where Cassian and Rhys had been loud and obnoxious. You and Azriel had always been quiet and observant.

Then one evening, you showed up at Azriel's favorite corner of the cabin. One that he had claimed as his. Often sitting there all alone in the shadows. Legs up to his chest as he watched everyone else. And no one ever invaded that space. Until that evening, when you had rounded the corner with a bowl of freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk, you splashed some of it as you walked. Your tongue slightly poked out as you concentrated on your task. Then that bowl was on the floor, right in front of Azriel. Your chest heaved as you took short, labored breaths. For a moment, Azriel had been too stunned to even move because no one had ever brought him anything. If people came to him, it was to hurt him, not to be kind.

Like a beaten puppy, he slowly crawled out of the dark corner. His eyes never left you as you two stared each other down. His scared fingers reached for the cookies. The warmth of them settled into his palm. He felt his heart hammering against his ribcage, yet he still extended his left hand to you. Offering you one of the cookies to share. Your shaky finger followed Azriel's movements until you both stood there on the dim back side of the cabin.

Loving you after that came easy. When his mind spiraled, all Azriel needed was to see you. When he felt like he couldn't breathe, all he needed was to look at your purple eyes, which never failed to remind him of the pure irises that bloomed in late spring. He saw you everywhere and in everything. And you were his in so many ways. You had searched and put together every single broken piece of his soul. Rebuilding him into a man with your slow and gentle love.

The night when the carriage with you and your mother was attacked, Azriel thought that he was going to lay down and die alongside you. Rhys didn't ask for Azriel to come. But he didn't have to. The spymaster was driven by the force of need and fear that ran through him like venom. No matter how many interrogations and battles he had been in after that, nothing compared to the vicious slaughter he unleashed that night alongside Rhys and his father. Back then, it had been the first time Azriel had killed. But it didn't weigh on him like he thought it would. All he wanted was to bring them back so he could slaughter them once again.

You. It was you and nothing else for Azriel after that. No more whispers of secrets. No more sneaking around. No more late-night snacks on the rooftop, so no one would hear you. Azriel wanted to love you loudly. To know that there wasn't a part of you that didn't belong to him. That wasn't his. And as he spun you around in your white dress, with irises in your hair, as your laughter echoed and filled his chest, he was sure that he had found his forever.

But now here he was. On the same old balcony. On the longest night of the year, gripping the glass of whiskey in his hand. Watching as Lucien of all people spun you around. Pulling a laugh after a laugh from you. A sound Azriel hasn't heard for months. And that sound had always been his to claim; now all he got were scowls and angry head shakes.

"If looks could kill, brother..." Cassian tried to bump Azriel's shoulder gently, but the spymaster's eyes didn't leave you even for a second. "It's good to see her like that," Cassian sighed, throwing another dagger straight into Azriel's heart because the whole family had been aware that something wasn't right. After almost four hundred years together, you two had come crashing down the rocky shore. "You'll figure it out, Az. Don't beat yourself...", Cassian had started, but Azriel wasn't going to sit here like a fool. So, with a harsh slam of his glass, he pushed past Cassian without a second glance.

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before...

Oh, how easy it had been to love him. To do it all for him. You had built your world around his broken heart. Carefully helping him stand on his shaky feet. It was the hidden parts of Azriel that you loved the most. Azriel, who put notes in the books you were reading, so that at a certain point, with you flipping through it, you would come across a folded piece of paper that read, "Never loved anyone as much as I love you. Your smile alone leaves me defenseless, my little terror."

You had kept them all. You still had them in a wooden box at the bottom of the closet. Every letter that Azriel had even written. Every note. Every dried flower. You bathed in that soft side of him that was only for you. With him rushing home to you so you could eat your dinner together and talk. Talk for hours until a comfortable silence would fall, and you two would find yourself in bed together, cuddling against one another as you read books in silence. Or Azriel read parts of his book to you.

A lifetime with him seemed too short at one point. Until it didn't. You had an inkling that something was changing the moment your brother brought Feyre home. That same night, you had woken up, drenched in sweat. Gasping like a fish frown on shore, with Azriel grasping at your hands. "It's fading," you breathed out, clawing at your chest till you drew blood with your nails. "My love," Azriel breathed, pulling your trembling body closer, "Breath with me." But all you did was shake your head and say, "It's flickering away." You grasped at him for dear life back then. And maybe you should have held on tighter. Maybe you should have sunk your nails into him. But your mother had raised you differently, and you weren't going to settle for scraps.

You'd like to believe that you knew that she was going to take Azriel away before even they did. Because Azriel had always been a savior. A fixer. An answer to the cries of the wrong soul, and oh, did she cry... Helpless little lamb in disguise. So when Azriel started smelling of her, you didn't even hear your heartbreak. You had tried bringing it up. Tried to get him to see, but the prettiest of flowers were often poisonous.

"All I'm asking is for an evening with my mate, with my husband." Your voice bounced off the walls as yet another fight rippled through the house that always felt cold now. "We had dinner last week," Azriel said blandly, buttoning up one of your favorite shirts. "And to think we had date nights every other day," you chuckled bitterly. "We are not kids anymore, Y/N," Azriel bit back, making you glare at him even more. "Oh, so love is now for children. Good to know that you had put an expiration date on this, Azriel", you said, tossing the kitchen towel you were holding to the side, "It would have been nice if you had informed me about it."

"See, this is why I hate being here." His voice roared back, making you take a step back. You fought many times. But you were always the firecracker. The terror. Azriel's composure never let him cross a line. But this. "You and your nagging drilling," he tapped against his temple angrily. "Not everything is about you. For once, give some thought to other people's needs."You had only blinked at him then. Watched him slowly dress up before he walked out of the door with a loud bang.

"A dance?", you blinked, nearly knocking your glass over as you flinched, but the person in front of you was quick to catch the delicate glass. "Apologies; I had no intention to startle you so much; I didn't think you were that deep in your thoughts." A familiar gaze warmed your soul. "Drop the formalities, Lucien," you chuckled softly. "I will if you will come to dance with me; it's a crime to sit through Starfall," Lucien once again extended his hand to you, and with a light shake of your head, you let him pull you up.

The music was rather lively, one you would come across at the city fair during a festival. But Rhys had always liked his tunes wild when he was happy. And your brother was more than happy. "Eris is convinced that I have two left feet," Lucien muttered as his arm wrapped around your waist, "So if this ends in distress, please keep my shame with you." His words made the corners of your lips tug upward as you chuckled lightly. "I would never cause you such disgrace, emissary," Lucien simply smiled at you before twirling you around.

At first, it was a bitter dig to seek out Lucien. A venomous desire to sting Azriel with his poison. You had come back so proud that night, knowing that after a day of horse reading with Lucien, his smell would have been all over you. And it was. And Azriel had stalled the moment he stepped through the door. His eyes grew dark before he angrily undid his cloak, tossing it to the side.

"What was Lucien doing here?", his voice was low and bitter, but all it did was make you smile. "Who said he was here?", you muttered, continuing to flip through your book. You didn't need to see him to know that he was scowling at you. "Why is his scent all over you, Y/N?" You knew now that it was a desperate attempt to grasp the last bits of his love and attention for you and what you were doing was a pathetic desire to catch one more glimpse of his care. "I took your advice. Listened to others' needs", you said with a smirk. Azriel's hands were on you in an instant. Grasping your forearms as he pulled you up, your book clattered to the floor. "What fucking games are you playing?", Azriel said through gritted teeth as you pushed back against his chest, only to make his grip tighter. "You hypocritical bastard. So you can whore yourself out, and I'm just supposed to watch you!" You barked out, the magic you shared with your brother sizzling beneath your skin, roaring to explode around you if needed. "I'm helping her get settled," Azriel growled, letting go of your arms once the darkness around you two grew thicker. "On your dick is where you're settling her," you snarled. You wanted. Waited. For him to deny it. To explode with shouts about your accusations. But he simply shook his head before winnowing away. Oh, how you had ragged that night. Smashing every vase. Every frame that you could reach. Cursing him in all the languages you knew before collapsing to your knees in soul-ranching sobs.

"I've lost you once more," Lucien's soft voice brought you back. You had lost track of the time you two had been swaying. "I'm starting to believe that I'm an awful company," he chuckled under his breath. "No, no, Lucien, you couldn't be further away from that," you reassured him, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder. "Does this have something to do with your husband plotting my death the whole night?", your head instantly turned to Azriel. As if in second nature. You didn't even need to think about it. You always found him in the crowd. And sure enough, his deathly glare was pinned on you two.

It twisted your guts because there had been a time when that look would have sent you to your knees. To know that he was ready to fight for you. Ready to tear down cities. To get his knuckles bloody for you. Now it just left a bitter taste in your mouth. And it felt like a mockery at best. He had lost his claim to you months ago. "I'm sorry," you muttered, ready to apologize on Azriel's behalf, but suddenly your voice died down. Because all of these weeks it had been you, patching up that broken image of you two. Glossing over the flaws so that your family will not see anything. So that no one would need to worry. So that no one would see just how broken you had been.

A loud bang of glass hitting the table was the last straw for you. You flinched as your eyes shut. Angry tears fell on Lucien's deep green tunic. But you refused to let anyone else see you like this. "Y/n," Lucien muttered, "If this is because of my doing," but you quickly shook your head. Pleading eyes looked up at him, and for the first time, the shock on Lucien's face was enough to make a quiet sob escape past your lips. As the mask you had been wearing for weeks finally slipped. "Please," you breathed, "Help me; I can't do this anymore." Lucien's hand quickly cupped the back of your head as he pressed your trembling frame closer to his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly beneath your ear. "I've got you. It'll be okay", he muttered quietly, looking around for anyone who had spotted the scene that had unfolded. "Come on," Lucien muttered after a moment, "Give me your hand."

It was way past the end of Starfall when Azriel walked through the front door. He was exhausted. That type of exhaustioned that seeped into your bones. That made your body ache. That made that permanent feeling of coldness linger deep within. One you couldn't chase away, no matter what. Undoing a couple of the buttons on his black shirt, Azriel stepped deeper into the house. Into a too quiet of a house.

"Y/n," Azriel's voice echoed through the living room. He knew it was way too late to be shouting like that, but this unsettling dread pulled at his chest. "Y/n," he called out once more, hoping to hear you angrily striding to yell back at him, but he heard nothing. Not a single rustle of the sheets. Not the sound of your feet tapping against the wooden floor.

Azriel was about to angrily march up the stairs himself. To beg for you to scream at him if he had to because this silence that he sat in for hours in the house of wind had him running in loopholes that were near to suffering him. But his eyes fell on something glistening on the living room table. The only thing still shining in this dim place. The spymaster took a couple of quick steps toward it. A sick and sour feeling spread through his stomach. Almost sending him backward. There was no way. There absolutely could not be a way. Azriel's hand reached for a light blue diamond ring that had been a part of his heart for so long. But there was no way because you had it on your finger tonight. He had seen it tonight. And if you weren't here, and if the ring was. Azriel swallowed thickly, cold sweat coating his hands and face. You wouldn't have just taken it off here and forgotten it, unless...

I'm not your problem anymore

So who am I offending now?

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before

So I'm leaving out the side door...

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x oc #lucien imagine #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra imagine #lucien vanserra

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works-of-heart · 5 days

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Hi there, no shade to your art or anything as you seem like a decent artist, but your e/ucien art is really cringe. You know that Elain is physically repulsed by him, right? Drawing her and Lucien together is borderline r*pe and S/A at best. I don't understand why you e/ucien and gwy*riel shippers like drawing porn of noncon characters. It's really disgusting and harmful to the whole community.

Elriel is the only consensual couple, so I can understand the art of them. But even as you e/uciens like to point out Lucien is an S/A victim too, right? So it's not good to ship him and draw him practically r*ping Elain. I just find it odd of all these standards you guys hold yourselves to because it's your "ship". It's clear you don't even care about the character's needs or wants.

As I've stated, no shade you clearly have some talent. It's just a shame to see that go to waste drawing unsavory scenes between nonconsenting characters for your ship. I think your skills would be much better utilized drawing elriel instead. We have a great community of extremely talented artists, and the best part is our ship is cannon and consenting! We really do have it all!

Have a lovely day 😘

Hi anon!

Thanks for stopping by and enjoying my work! =3

I think you might have missed the point of fanart, so allow me to explain.

I am a fan of Elain and Lucien, so I will draw them. I can draw them in AU, in canon text, in fanon, in whatever manner I want. They are CANON mates, which is more than I can say for your ship. You go on about how they had an ALMOST kiss, but they didn't. Az calls their meeting a mistake then leaves to ignore her while he spends time with Gwyn and gets a spark in his chest thinking about her eyes lighting up with joy.

You say "no shade" to my work, but then say I'm drawing SA and I'm harming the community, and insult my ship. I fail to see how drawing mates in an intimate setting is harming anyone. Sounds like someone just doesn't like the fact that their ship ended in a BC and is paving the way for Elain and Lucien to be together.

Artist/writers will draw/write what they want to, and shouldn't feel shamed or bullied into doing something they don't want to, because you think your ship is morally superior. It's not. Az rejected Elain then fucked off, Elain isn't even shedding a tear over it. She handed back the necklace just as she did TT. Not looking back.

You enjoy your ship with your artists. I quite like mine very much, and I know come their book, we'll have even more canon to draw inspiration from. Until then I, and all the other writers and artists who support Gwynriel and Elucien will have fun with our fan works!

#elucien #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #elain x lucien #anti e/riel #pro gwynriel #pro fanart #I'll draw what I damn well please #dont like it dont look at it

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kasagia · 1 year

Note

Could you make something like where klaus' girlfriend/wife is really attractive and all of his enemies want her(like lucien or tristan)?

Everybody wants to steal my girl

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader Summary: Klaus (and you) have been struggling with hybrid's jealousy for 1,000 years. It doesn't help that you're stunningly beautiful and that all his enemies want to steal you from him. But Klaus will not let his wife ever leave his side—or worse, lose her feelings for him. Even if he is "slightly" insecure about himself. Warning(s): jealous Klaus, jealous reader, a bit smut (I think) but not 18+, Klaus being an insecure puppy Word count: 7k I guess

She's been my queen since we were sixteen, we want the same things We dream the same dreams, alright, alright?

Klaus stormed into the abattoir in a rage. He promised himself that he would rip Lucien's heart out of his chest as soon as the circumstances were right, making sure he had suffered enough for his heinous act beforehand.

Klaus was the only one who could flirt with his wife.

He'd have to make sure that this pathetic creature got the message the next time they met. Lucien had condemned his life to death anyway, but Klaus might have had the pity to spare him from his creative torture.

Y/N didn't like it when he got blood on the floor. And when their daughter Hope came into the world, she tried to keep the violence around her to a minimum. Which didn't mean Klaus shouldn't fight every potential suitor of his baby's mother. Hope would agree with him if she was old enough.

When he calmed down, he decided to look into the room of their miracle child. He smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he saw Y/N putting their daughter to sleep. She sang an Old Norse lullaby they both knew from their human days.

Klaus flashed back to the days when he was just a teenager, head over heels in love with the daughter of their village chief. Then he wouldn't even have had a chance to hold her hand in public. His family was lower in the village hierarchy, which meant he could only dream of marrying a(n) Y/N. Which didn't stop them from falling in love. And turning her into a vampire with the Mikaelson siblings—the only thing he owed to his mother.

They both wanted and dreamed of the same thing: being together. They've had their ups and downs over the past thousand years, but they've always stayed together. She was the only person in their family that Klaus had never stabbed. Besides, he couldn't. She was a hybrid, just like him. After breaking his curse, it turned out that their lost dreams of having a family together weren't all that lost. Hope appeared. And they both hoped she wouldn't be their only child. But first, they had to deal with their enemies.

Klaus knew he would do anything to protect his girls. And in moments like this—when Y/N smiled softly at him, holding their sleeping daughter in her arms—he knew that his efforts were damn well worth the hard work and sleepless nights.

His wife might just not be so irresistibly, wonderfully beautiful at every fucking moment of the day. It would have saved him a lot of nerves and fits of jealousy every time someone flirted with his goddess.

"Tough day?" Y/n asked, placing her hand on his cheek. Klaus didn't even notice when she approached him.

"It's better since I've seen you, love." he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest to bury his nose in her delightfully fragrant hair.

Klaus adored every inch of her.

I know, I know, I know for sure Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

On days like this, Klaus was more murderous than usual.

Y/N knew full well that after agreeing to Tristan's polite request for a dance, Klaus was going to explode tonight. Not that she wanted to dance with the brother of a bitch who wanted to take her husband. Tristan's compliments to her, or even the subtle hints of his attraction to her, weren't pleasant to her either.

That was the plan: she was to distract Tristan while Klaus and Freya searched their house. The only thing Elijah didn't take into account was Klaus' enormous tendency to get jealous every time he touched her or received a compliment from another man.

Y/N could have sworn she saw Kol in the crowd eating a pack of popcorn, waiting for things to happen.

So she wasn't surprised when Klaus appeared at one point, snatching her from Tristan's arms with a warning growl. Or that he later marked her neck carefully and every inch of her body that had been contaminated by another man's hands.

Y/N was HIS and no one could ever change that. Not when he was around.

Elijah then burst into your room, being very annoyed at his brother's behavior. But honestly? He should have known better than to hope Klaus wouldn't give in to his jealousy. Tristan was lucky he didn't rip his hands off on the spot. On that day, the second of their first-turned vampires handed down a death sentence. Klaus wouldn't let anyone steal his wife.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

The cup of bitterness overflowed in Klaus when Lucien approached you on your annual "wedding anniversary" date. Yes, Klaus dared to show enough of his sentimental and tender side to declare this day a national holiday. No murders and no bodies on this day - that's what he promised you thousands of years ago.

But when he brought your order to the table and saw Lucien shamelessly flirting with you in front of him, inviting you for a drink at his suite, he seriously considered breaking that oath.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. He would rather avoid your wrath.

So instead, he walked over to your table with a sly, confident smirk, put the food on the table, and, grabbing your chin, pulled you close to kiss you passionately in front of the vampire.

He was marking his territory.

You smiled as Niklaus ignored Lucien's awkward grunt, only kissing you fiercely. He only let you go when he was sure your lips were swollen enough from his kiss. He smirked at your slightly disheveled state.

"Were you very bored without me, love?" he asked, playing with your hair.

"I kept her company, Klaus." the hybrid winced at Lucien's voice. He mustered up all the rest of his patience and turned his head, acknowledging the vampire's presence.

"Oh really? I didn't notice you, Lucien. You can go now." he brushed him off, turning back to you. Disgust in his gaze gave way to pure adoration. You were always amazed at how quickly you could change his mood with just your presence.

"Nik, sweetheart, it's very inappropriate to talk like that to our oldest friends, isn't it? Lucien, darling, we'll continue our conversation someday. You have to forgive me, but I promised my grumpy husband that I would focus all my attention on him today." you excused the two of you with a cute smile. Lucien just nodded, blushing.

You grabbed Klaus' arm and pulled him out of the bar before he lunged at the vampire.

"Niklaus, my heart and soul, you know I'm only yours, right?" you asked, kissing his cheek to stifle the surge of his jealousy.

"Yes. Which doesn't mean that this creature knows it too. And I'm not grumpy." he grunted, the furrow of irritation on his forehead deepening as he remembered Lucien's sweet words to you. He wanted to vomit as soon as you answered him in an equally nice and polite tone. "Every enemy of mine has a crush on you anyway; even my father doesn't feel disgusted and murderous toward you."

"Yes? You should have seen Aurora's face when she passed us a few minutes ago. She must have sent Lucien here to spoil our evening."

"Wait a minute, love... is that why you've drawn me to this very nice, unexpected, passionate, mind-blowing kiss in the middle of the street?" he asked with an incredulous smirk, watching with satisfaction as a treacherous blush crept onto your cheeks.

"What am I supposed to say? You're as territorial in this relationship as I am. Besides, we don't want to give our enemies the false impression that we see anything but each other, do we?"

"It's good to know you get jealous of me from time to time too, love."

"Time to time? Please, have you seen yourself in the mirror? I'm still at war with all these horny women who want to steal you from me. Such cheekbones, wonderful eyes, and an English accent are the dreams of many."

"Maybe, but I'm probably the one who chases away the most suitors out of the two of us. You have no idea how many people have had a crush on you over the centuries."

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na She belongs to me

There was going to be a celebration of the summer solstice in their village. Young Klaus was just waiting for you to sneak out with him after the ceremonial rites for your own celebration.

You've been courting each other for over three years now, and today Klaus was finally going to pluck up the courage (with the help of Elijah and Rebekah and Kol's teasing) to propose to you. The ring was safely in his pocket, and the sword was well hidden where the two of you were supposed to spend a romantic evening.

Everything was planned and ready. Nothing could go wrong today. He anticipated and ready for every circumstance, and his mother (the only one of your parents who knew about this secret relationship) promised him to keep his father away from your tryst's place.

But it never occurred to him that another man would try to steal you away from him.

Thor Ragnarsson, the strongest and most powerful young warrior from their village, has been dancing with you since the beginning of the night. And it didn't seem like he was going to let you go that easily, and after the rumors he heard from Kol, Klaus found out that the man wanted to court you.

Klaus had a panic attack. How could he—weak, one of the many sons of a lesser warrior—compete with such a man for your hand? Thor could give you much more than he can. He was stronger, richer, more famous, and handsomer... No. He couldn't think like that. Not when you were destined for each other by fate, stars, spirits, gods, or whatever was watching over you. He had to do something, and fast, before that son of a bitch charms you and you forget the boy who wrote you poems and painted your portraits on the bark of trees.

Klaus may not have been the strongest, but he had something that many of their villagers lacked. He had the cunning, brains, and skill of the best assassin. He will snatch you from this brute's clutches. But first he'll have to figure out how to do it (and take control of the deepening feelings of jealousy that clouded his good judgment.)

Thor only had two weaknesses. Beautiful women and strong drinks. He doubted that he would get drunk so easily; they don't know each other, so even if he offered him something stronger to drink (with an admixture of sleeping herbs), he would probably refuse and sense Klaus' ruse. So he had to resort to Plan B.

"Rebekah!" he shouted, trying to find his sister in the dancing crowd. He found her pretty quickly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from talking to some man (whom he and Elijah needed to check out in the future) and dragged the protesting blonde to a place where they could watch you and Thor. "I need your help. Do you see this skunk who is talking to my Y/N? Please distract him so I and Y/N can run away from there. You know I wanted to propose to her tonight, and that lesser man is ruining my whole plan!"

"Couldn't you have asked Tatia? She would have helped you because of Elijah."

"They got out of here before Kol could scare off another woman. Please, Rebekah. Won't you do it for your favorite brother?"

"She better say yes." she sighed in defeat, threading herself into the dancing crowd. After a moment, she hit Y/N's partner and winked at Klaus. He didn't waste a second. He ran over to you and, making sure everyone was too busy to notice you, threw you over his shoulder and took you from there.

"Nik! You can put me down now." she laughed at him as they entered the forest. Klaus reluctantly set her down, immediately drawing her into a passionate kiss, which she eagerly returned. "What took you so long?"

"I had to make sure the inconvenience wouldn't bother us when we sneaked out."

"That inconvenience has a name. Besides, Thor's just my friend. We both know very well that my heart belongs to only one man in this village."

"And who is it, love?"

"Well, he's quite tall; he has blonde hair and beautiful, mesmerizing blue eyes; and he's artistically talented. I've never seen more beautiful things than the ones he's made, and he's soooo jealous of me, but that's only because he loves me and he's pretty insecure about himself. Thinking about it like that, I guess I should make sure he knows how much I desire and love him so he doesn't come up with some weird ideas. What do you think?"

"I think this man was born under a lucky star to be worthy of a miracle like you."

"I forgot to add that he charms me with his words like no one else." you murmured, placing a tender kiss on his lips, which accelerated the rhythm of your already madly beating hearts. He pushed you into a tree, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close, not wanting the world to let this moment between you ever end. You pulled away from him, placing your hand gently on his cheek. You smiled, looking at him with love in your eyes as he turned his head to kiss your hand. "I dare not agree with you. I'm the lucky one to have you, Niklaus. And believe me, nothing on this earth can change the way I love you. Nothing is even close enough to steal me from your safe, loving arms."

"So what do you say when..." he knelt down in front of you, trembling with nerves as he took a hand-made ring from his pocket. "Will I offer you my heart, soul, and body forever? You have my eternal devotion, loyalty, and love regardless of your answer, but know that it will be a real honor and a gift from the gods to call you my wife and to have a family with you. I want nothing more in this world than for you to be mine, Y/N. And I may not be the best choice; I am not very rich or strong, but I promise you that I will try to be the best husband for you."

"Oh, Niklaus, you stupid, insecure man... of course I will marry you!" you screamed with tears in your eyes, throwing yourself at him and knocking the two of you to the ground. You both laughed happily as you kissed each other's faces. Klaus gently slid the ring onto your finger.

One satisfying thought lingered in his mind as you both lounged in the field, embracing each other and watching the stars, talking about your future together.

She belongs to me.

Kisses like cream, her walk is so mean And every jaw drops when she's in those jeans, alright, alright? I don't exist if I don't have her The sun doesn't shine, the world doesn't turn, alright, alright?

"Any party you forgot to invite me to?" Klaus flinched at your pretentious, cold tone of voice. He turned away from the table to explain why Lucien, Aurora, and Tristan were sitting at the table with him and his brothers but fell silent, trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

"You look breathtaking as always, darling. Tristan and I missed having a beautiful woman at this table." Klaus stared murderously at Lucien as he kissed your hand, ignoring Aurora's offended snort. He knew you did it on purpose.

This morning, when he asked you to take Hope to visit Aunt Hayley for the day, you were wearing a completely different outfit. Now you were wearing those annoyingly tight jeans that showed off your curves perfectly, and you knew he loved them. Paired with a plunging neckline blouse, diamond jewelry, and little makeup, you looked like a goddess. Aurora could hide in the septic tank with her elegant, short dress.

You smirked at Aurora, sitting down between Lucien and Tristan, across from your husband. And that, too, was a deliberate ploy. You were out of reach of his hands to tease him with your beauty even more, regaling those idiots by your side with your heavenly presence. Klaus will make sure you pay for your little feat tonight.

He shot you a warning look as he noticed Lucien inching slightly closer to you, but you ignored him completely, smiling at some comment from the younger vampire.

Oh, yes, you will definitely be punished.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" you asked him, knowing full well where his thoughts wandered.

"No. You're messing up the world order by fawning over this scoundrel instead of sitting next to me."

"Perfectly fine, love. Just admiring your beauty tonight."

"Only mine?" you asked, casually swirling her glass of wine and glancing meaningfully at Aurora, who tensed slightly under your gaze. You smiled meanly, ignoring Elijah's staring at you with irritation.

After failing to get anything meaningful out of Lucien (Klaus wouldn't let you get close enough to use his tricks), Elijah figured Aurora's weakness for Klaus could be exploited. But this time he didn't anticipate that you'd pick up on your husband's jealous behavior.

And you were much worse than the mighty hybrid.

"You know you're the only one I belong to, love." Klaus finally answered, shocking the younger vampires. They had never witnessed the world's deadliest vampire softly professing his love and devotion to you. You smiled sweetly at him, offering him your hand, which he kissed without hesitation. You shot a malicious, defiant look at Aurora.

They thought he had you wrapped around his finger, but it turns out to be quite the opposite...

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

"Cheer up, she's just talking to him and not even of her own free will, Nik." you heard Kol calming down your husband when you tried to get information from Lucien.

For some reason, a vampire who has been impersonating your husband over the years has fallen for your extraordinary beauty and become infatuated with you.

Elijah decided to try again and use this to your advantage, much to Klaus' displeasure and fury. This time, Elijah put his other younger brother on guard. Honestly, it was fun to watch Kol occasionally hold Klaus by his henley to keep him from running towards you.

But of the two evils, Kol preferred to fight Klaus' jealousy over yours. You have proven more than once that you are a more dangerous opponent than his already bloodthirsty brother.

"Are you alright, darling?" Lucien pulled you out of your thoughts as he looked at you with concern.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hope's been getting on my nerves lately. She's so little, and she already has her dad's temper."

"A beautiful and caring woman like you deserves one night off." he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and placing a flower there in the process. You had to admit that it was a very sweet gesture. You blushed involuntarily, smiling shyly at the vampire. "Will you do me the honor?" he asked, extending his hand towards you. You really didn't want to flirt with him, but Elijah didn't give you much of a way out. You hoped Klaus knew that. But from the burning look you could feel in the back of your head as Lucien led you to the dance floor, you knew you were bound to have a fit of jealousy at home.

You just hoped no one would die until you were alone in the same room with your husband to ease his jealousy.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Kol and Klaus' hideout. You almost burst out laughing as you saw the two brothers jostling with each other as Kol was trying hard to hold Klaus by his henley.

"Bloody hell, calm down before I put a dog muzzle around your neck!" Kol hissed at him, deftly dodging Klaus' fangs as he tried to inject him with his werewolf venom.

Fortunately, Freya came and took control of them, thanks to which the rest of the night went without incident (except that Klaus barged in at the end of the party and, together with Kol, pretending to be drunk, laughed at their ball. The divas, as always, had to show up.)

You thought everything would be fine, but on the way back, Nik didn't say a word to you, only holding your hand in an iron grip as he put up with Kol's story about what a "jealous and rabid dog" he had been throughout the whole ball.

The son of a bitch only made him angrier and escaping to Davina at the first possible opportunity after you were parked under abattoir.

The rest of the siblings got out of the car quickly, leaving you and Klaus alone. You had to defuse the ticking time bomb that was your husband before it was too late, and also on your own.

"Nik..." you began in a sweet tone, but the man didn't even look up from your joined hands as he played with your wedding ring on your finger. "Nik, listen…"

"Do you regret your decision?"he blurted out, not letting you finish your sentence.

"What?" you asked, shocked about his unexpected, serious question.

You turned to him so you could get a better look at him. He was staring at your hands nervously. You could feel his grip tightening with every second of the tense silence between you two.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked in a trembling, rueful voice.

"Oh, Niklaus... my best friend, my king, my soulmate. How could I ever regret marrying my first, true, epic love?" you took his cheeks in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. "I love you. All of you. In your good and bad days, and nothing can change that. None knows me as well as you do. Nobody is even close to making me feel the way you have been making me feel for these last thousand years. You are my peace, my home, my security, my heart, and my everything. There could be a billion people asking for my hand, and I'll choose you again, and again, and again. You, our sweet Hope, and your siblings are the only ones I care about in this bloody world. I'm yours, Niklaus, and I'm not going anywhere in the following eternity."

"Good." he murmured, barely holding back tears, and pulled you into a needy kiss.

You grabbed his shoulders and straddled him, knowing full well that, after moments of uncertainty like this, he needed your tender, firm touch.

And with the uncles and aunts watching over your daughter, you were more than willing to take care of your insecure husband.

The next day you woke up alone in your bed, but in a room filled with various beautiful flowers… none of them were like the one Lucien had given you and Klaus had burned.

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na

You lay in bed together, sleeping off the long weeks of fighting the de Martels and Lucien. You finally killed them, returning to that blissful, peaceful state. AND! Hope has gained a new Uncle Finn and Grandpa Ansel. And it looked like Aunt Davina would join your happy, crazy, Mikaelosn's bunch, thanks to Kol. Klaus allowed them to look after the baby under the watchful eye of Rebekah and Freya.

It'll probably be years before he trusts them enough to leave them alone with Hope, but that's just how your husband was.

Always a protector, a warrior, repelling any evil that could reach his loved ones.

"Stop thinking. Go back to sleep." he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

Lately, he has had a strange urge to stay very close to you. Maybe it's because spring is coming? You didn't want to ask him about his wolf side yet. He was fairly new to it and... shy. You were glad that now Ansel would be able to help him understand his other half.

"I thought we established a long time ago that I disobey your orders." you started to comb his hair, smiling as you heard him purr softly. He deserved to rest after bravely defending your family. You didn't know how much time you had left until another bomb exploded in your face.

"You could at least pretend to be a little obedient to your husband." he huffed, his eyes still closed.

"Me? Obedient? I thought you knew what you were taking, Mikaelson. Now, it's too late for any returns." you snorted, amused. Klaus graciously opened one eye, staring at you adoringly.

"I did. You're mine forever." he replied seriously, making your cheeks flush furiously and your heart speed up.

"Good." you whispered, placing a tender, short kiss on his lips.

"Good." he replied, cupping your cheeks and kissing you "properly" stealing your breath away. You enjoyed a moment to yourselves, touching each other tenderly, grounding in the familiar feeling of another's lips.

You two needed it after weeks of jealousy and uncertainty on both sides. Reminders that nothing and no one can take each other away. You belonged to him as much as he belonged to you. Soul and body.

You still were kissing as Klaus slid his hand down your neck, breasts, and belly and started to lift your shirt, making you shiver every time your bare skin made brief contact with his fingertips.

Suddenly, Hope's cry came from downstairs, effectively breaking the moment between the two of you. Klaus groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

"Your daughter is calling us."

"And since when is she just my daughter?"

"Since she's been demanding our attention purely because of her current mood. You spoiled her, Nik, and she's not even 4."

"I know another woman I've spoiled, and she's not complaining about it at all. Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"Just bring her here. I need her too." you backed out, knowing full well you couldn't win this fight. Thousands of dresses, jewelry, and your portraits painted by Klaus spoke clearly against you. Hope may have been spoiled by her dad, but over the past thousand years (and probably many more to come), your husband has made sure you get everything you want. Even a fucking star in the sky.

"As you wish, love." he murmured, kissing your forehead before going to fetch your daughter.

She knows, she knows that I never let her down before She know, she knows that I'm never gonna let take another take her love from me

Klaus couldn't let his guard down. You just had to attract everyone with your beauty. Even the Salvatore brothers. He wasn't worried about Damon. He was too smitten with Elena to even think about making a move to get your affection. But Stefan… the golden, Salvatore hero—who had some dark points in common with him but was definitely a better choice than him. Bloody hell, he would want him too, if he had to choose between himself and him. So he has to work really hard to prove to you that he may be better than Stefan.

It didn't help that the younger vampire was stealing you in front of him and dancing with you most of the time at his mother's ball.

Not also the fact that you were willing to let him lead you after Klaus argued with you about Esther's intentions. You sensed something wrong with her aura, but Klaus believed (or wanted to believe) that his mother meant well. That, like him, she wanted to reunite the family.

You guys argued pretty hard about it. And now you were dancing in the arms of his enemy, honoring him with your beauty, smile and attention.

The worst part of it all was that you didn't send him a single malicious smirk. You didn't tease him like you usually did after your fights. You didn't even notice him as he watched you doggedly, tipping another glass of champagne. His name probably never crossed your mind this evening.

He played with the wedding ring on his finger, watching carefully as Salavtore flirted with you in front of him. He promised himself that this time he wouldn't give in to his jealousy. He won't play by the rules of your game, and he won't play the jealous husband. You will come to him yourself and apologize to him.

At least that was the plan until he saw you take your wedding ring off.

This was too fucking much for him.

He set his glass down on the table and with a quick, slightly unsteady step, walked over to the two of you and twisted Stefan's arm, the exact one he had dared to touch your bare shoulder.

Salvatore groaned, drawing the attention of those around you. But you stood firm as you watched your husband break at least two of his bones. He released Stefan in disgust and grabbed your hand, dragging you through the crowd of onlookers to his studio - the only place where no one would dare disturb you.

"What the hell was that?!" he shouted, slamming the door behind the two of you in anger.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, sweetheart."

"For your own good, don't make me more mad than I already am, love."

"And you, for your own good, remember that I AM NOT the meek wife you can order around! I'm the hybrid, like you, an original. You have no power over me, wolfie, no one has."

"Are you sure, love?" he growled throatily, taking a big step towards her. You backed up until you hit the wall behind you. Klaus walked over to you, your chests rubbing against each other with every breath you took.

He suddenly kissed you aggressively, taking out all his anger and insecurity on you as he bit into your enticing mouth and began sucking the slowly oozing blood. He groaned at the sweet, addictive taste on his tongue.

With one hand, he untangles your complicated hairstyle and wraps your hair around his hand, tilting your head back. While he was busy fucking your neck with kisses, you took advantage of his distraction, digging your nails into his arms, taking revenge for biting your lip. He hissed, annoyed at your bratty attitude, and pressed his lips to yours again. Once he had distracted you, he gave away two of your dresses and slapped you hard on the ass. You moaned into the kiss, rubbing against him, making him even crazier with desire. He had to control himself before you went too far for him to carry out his plan.

"Such a willing… so needy whore for me." you moaned as he brushed against your core, still teasing you, his fangs on your neck as he bit your skin gently. "What a pity I only fuck with my wife." he growled, pushing away from you and heading towards the exit.

"Niklaus!" you gasped in anger as his body heat left you.

"Put your wedding ring back on, and maybe I will help you with your... little problem." he threw over his shoulder, ignoring your shouts of protest and threats.

He didn't even get his hand on the doorknob when you pinned him to the door, kissing him passionately. He grinned, throwing you onto the piano in the corner as he caught a glimpse of the familiar black gold on your finger out of the corner of his eye. Where the fuck should always be. He leaned over you, grabbing your chin hard to make you look into his eyes. Need and lust shone in your irises, making him harder than ever.

"You're mine. I am the only bloody man who'll ever hear your sweet moaning in pleasure like a whore. Nobody can take you away from me. Don't ever dare to think you can have any lover but me."

"Then stop talking and prove it."

"With a fucking pleasure, love." he growled, kissing you hungrily as he tore your dress in half.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

Hayley and Jackson's son stayed over at Hope's, and Klaus was more terrified than when he had fought his father. His little girl was playing with some kid. What if he started flirting with her? He had read somewhere that kids that age often find "boyfriends and girlfriends" and call every other person they are friends with that. He wasn't ready to hear from his little daughter that she had a boyfriend.

So ever since Hayley brought him in, he'd been giving the boy a stern look, much to his wife's annoyance. Klaus' reluctance gradually began to turn into indifference when, after hours of time Hope spent with her friend, he did not notice anything suspicious. They'd lasted all day, and there was no indication that the kid would have to be wiped off the face of the earth (or at least taken back to his parents immediately).

But then came breakfast. And Klaus noticed that this kid was staring at you in adoration. And he didn't like it at all.

He was not at all prepared for the insult, the insult directed at him, which the child said after you helped him cut his food.

"You are beautiful and kind as an angel. When I grow up, I will be your husband." Klaus spat out his cup of tea, choking as you tried not to burst out laughing at the 6-year-old's comment and Nik' reaction.

"Honey... but I already have a husband. He'll be very sad if I find another." Hayley called her son, who said goodbye to you and ran to hug Hope before mom took him away. You looked at your stunned husband with amusement. "Well… at least you don't have to worry about him flirting with Hope."

"This kid won't be stepping over the threshold of this house again." he growled, leaving the room to make sure the little one was out for good.

"Niklaus! It is just a child!" you shouted after him, laughing at his jealousy as you ran to make sure he didn't intimidate the poor boy.

Everybody want to steal my girl Everybody want to take her heart away Couple billion in the whole wide world Find another one cause she belongs to me

It's been quite a few years since Klaus' last fit of jealousy. After the (victory) fight against Inadu, you were finally able to enjoy a moment of normality.

You had lunch at some diner in Mystic Falls; you visited Hope at her school, and somehow it happened that a group of her colleagues accosted her. She introduced you, you chatted with them for a while, and everything was supposed to be a normal dinner with your daughter and her friends, until one of them... crossed the line.

"Now we know from whom Hope inherited such loveliness. You are very beautiful, Mrs. Mikaelson."

You quickly grabbed Klaus' hand across the table, politely thanking the boy. Hope, seeing what was going on, escorted her friends away and left you alone for a moment.

"Niklaus, he's just a teenager."

"Uhm." he muttered absently, staring with daggers at the departing boy.

"He could be our son, for God's sake!"

"Most people on this planet could be our children, but that doesn't stop them from flirting with my wife." you rolled your eyes, smiling with amusement as he growled at the boy staring at you when Hope was explaining something to him. The poor guy looked away in panic and ran away as fast as he could.

You were going to scold your husband for scaring your daughter's friends, but you decided to leave it to Hope. The smart girl knew how to talk to her father better than you. Maybe she'd finally knock those stupid fits of jealousy out of his head, with which you've been struggling for 1,000 years.

"Your pregnant wife, I would like to point out. And we're not going anywhere. Certainly not with a teenager." you said, grabbing his chin and pulling him to you so you could kiss him. Klaus grunted, pleased with the feeling of your lips on his, and automatically placed his hand on your yet-unseen belly, smirking as he felt the pulse of the youngest member of the Mikaelson family growing inside you.

"I'm back!" Hope screamed, stepping behind you with a nervous smile. You raised an eyebrow, while looking at your daughter. Oh, no. You knew that look in her eyes. Klaus had the same gaze as he was about to do... something in Mikaelson's style. "Taking the opportunity... I mean, now that you're reassuring dad. Mom, Dad, I have a boyfriend. His name is Landon, and he's coming to the family dinner on Friday for all of you to meet him. So, bye! I'm going back to school. I love you both!" she said, kissing you both on the cheeks and leaving you both stunned. You burst out laughing at Klaus' shocked, defeated expression.

"Nik? Are you okay?" you asked, still laughing. Your husband's patience really was tested today.

"I told you we should stay in bed today. I knew something bad was about to happen." he growled, giving you a menacing look as you still couldn't stop laughing. You kissed the corner of his lips, a huge smirk still on your face. Klaus rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his smirk any longer while he was looking at you. The power you hold over him... one your smile was easily changing his mood. Even in situations like this.

"Don't be such dramatic. It's probably better that Hope is dating teens than me, right?"

"Stop it, love." he growled, putting the money on the table. He grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar.

"Stop what?" you asked, pretending to be innocent as you strolled towards your car.

"Teasing me."

"But it's my favorite part of the day… and we all know you enjoy every ounce of my undivided attention." you replied, stopping both of you in front of the car and putting your hands on his shoulders. You stared at him with a mischievous smirk, playing with his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned against your car.

"You know you're ruining my carefully crafted reputation as the greatest evil in the world?"

"I'm not too concerned about this… how about you?"

His only response was a light chuckle before he kissed you with all his love for you. You smiled, cupping his cheeks and pulling him as close to you as possible. You both loved those moments of peace between the two of you. No witches, vampires, or werewolves wanting your death. Just the two of you in each other's arms, too busy with each other to care about anything else.

"Let's go home, love. Before that bunch of Salvatores come down here with white oak stakes." he hummed tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He could stare at your beautiful face for hours. Even if it meant dealing with the people who wanted to steal his goddess first. It was worth every effort to hold you in his arms again.

"I don't think we're on the top criminals list anymore. Stefan was recently joking that you had retired. And before you get a seizure in the middle of town, let me say that I didn't talk to him. Hope is friends with Delena's daughter. She might have overheard something."

"The gods must have punished me in some way for my many antics, so they sent me a wife to teach my daughter how to get on my nerves without even trying."

"Oh sweetheart. I love you too." you laughed as you both got into the car to go home.

Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Oh yeah Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na Alright Na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na She belongs to me

You were sitting in a rocking chair, holding your newborn son in your arms. The baby finally fell asleep peacefully, and you were afraid to make any move after hours of putting him to sleep. It looks like you'll have to sleep in this chair tonight.

"Rescue you, love?" Klaus' soft whisper tore your gaze from Henric Nikolas Mikaelson.

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid he'll wake up the moment he leaves my arms." Klaus slowly walked over to you, kneeling in front of you and gazing tenderly at the baby you held. "I guess you're going to have to come to terms with the fact that you're going to have to share me with someone else." the man rolled his eyes at the comment about his jealousy. He shifted his gaze to you and gently grabbed your hand, being careful not to let any sudden movement wake his son.

"I'll live with it as long as our kids are the only ones taking you from me."

"You are a very gracious, all-powerful hybrid." he chuckled, making a tired but genuine smile appear on your face. "Save yourself while you still can. I don't think I'm going back to bed tonight." you murmured, looking at the little usurper in your arms.

"Nonsense, you are going with me.." he lifted you from your chair with your soft, startled squeal and held you in his arms, careful not to wake your son. He carried you to the bed, making sure you were comfortable. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his hand, and stared at the two of you, spellbound. "You can sleep. I'll keep an eye on you two."

"Remember that your siblings and dad are coming tomorrow. Kol and Davina pick up Hope. And please, for God's sake, don't argue with Kol again about him being Henric's godfather, because we both know you don't want anyone else to take his place."

"Well, we always have Marcel and, God forbid, Finn. Besides, what kind of big brother would I be if I didn't torment him every chance I got?" you rolled your eyes, pressing your son to your chest, and used your free hand to grab your husband's hand.

"I just hope you didn't teach our daughter that."

"I'd be surprised if she didn't pick up on our habits herself." he murmured, kissing your hand and watching you fall into a peaceful sleep while holding your son and his hand. Your rings shone in the moonlight on your joined hands.

Yes... you were definitely belongs only to him.

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feyreswaterybowels · 23 days

Text

⟡ Princess of Dreams ⟡

# 1 Lucien x Rhys!Sister

⟡Part 1⟡Part 2⟡Part 3⟡

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Centuries ago Rhys’ youngest sister was kidnapped by the High Lord of Spring instead of kill like their mother and sister. The high lord had wards placed on his court so she was unable to leave. Rhys has believed her to be dead this whole time. What happens when Feyre finds out who she is and swears to take her home.

Warnings/Tag: Takes place during ACOWAR. Implied past sexual assault. Fluffy romance. Feyre being besties with Rhy’s sister. Pet names (pretty girl, sweet girl, Princess (her title)

Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for part 2! Bold italics are mental communication regular italics are inner thoughts.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁✩ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

I know who you are.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Feyre—

You’re Rhys' sister. He told me all about you while I was there. I…I have a plan. I’ll take you back with me when I go. I’ll take you home.

The hushed conversation with Feyre played on repeat in my head for days. She had trusted me enough to tell me she wasn’t really here for Tamlin, that it was a plot, a plan and she was going back to the Night Court. Back to Velaris and she was taking me with her—she was taking me home.

Home.

There was only one problem. Just one. The male lying in my bed. I turn away from the window to gaze at him lying there naked, golden skin glowing in the moonlight. A crown of red splayed around his head. Grooves and planes of lean muscles on display. Arms folded behind his head.

Gods, he’s beautiful.

I had yet to tell him of Feyre’s plan. I believed he wouldn’t tell Tamlin but at the same time…I wasn’t sure how safe his mind was with two other daemanti in the house. I could only protect his mind when I was with him. Plus, Tamlin was his best friend. His High Lord. If he knew of Feyre’s plan to leave…and everything else she told me and Tamlin found out, we could both be locked away again. Not only that, but if he found out Lucien knew? That couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let harm come to either of them.

I took in a deep breath, walking over to the bed, tucking my wings as I slowly crawled up that perfect body. Dipping my head and trailing my lips over that patch of hair that went down, down, down, breathing in the scent of him. Mm.

“And what exactly are you doing?” That deep voice rumbled. I looked up, a sly grin across his face, metal eye glowing in the dark as he took in the sight of me between high thighs as I licked my bottom lip.

“Who? Me?” I asked, sliding a hand up his thigh to grasp him in my hand, stroking him once.

“Yes you, Princess” He laughs, grabbing and pulling me up the bed, kissing me as he rolls us over. I can feel him hard and heavy between my legs and it makes me moan.

“Lucien,” His name falls from my lips as he presses our bodies together. “Don’t tease, I want you.”

“Don’t tease?” He scoffs, “Says the one who was about to wake me up with a pretty little mouth.”

His grin is feral and I can’t help but return it.

“Come on,” I spread my legs wider, letting him feel the wetness there, “I know you want it.”

“And she calls me the tease,” He mocks under his breath before kissing me, tongue sliding into my mouth.

My fingers tangle in those long fire locks. I moan when I feel the heat radiating from his body, I love when he does that. The heat always feels so good against my sensitive skin.

He grins at me again, pushing up onto his knees, towering over me. He grabs my thighs, spreading them out and looking over me and I let him. I always loved the way he looks at me, his beautiful scarred face showing every ounce of emotion he feels.

He reaches between his thigh, wrapping a strong fist around himself and I watch stroke for stroke as he watches me. I tug on that bond between us, watching as it seemingly tugs him closer though I know it was his own doing.

“So, beautiful, all laid out for me,” He groans and I open myself further for him. Stretching my wings out across the bed, arms above my head, legs still spread wide but using a foot to rub over his calf.

That does it for him. He swoops down, grabbing me around the waist to yank my hips up, lining himself up and filling me. I cry out his name, arching into that fullness, into that glorious stretch.

We move together heat and passion. It’s rough and loving and he’s got me falling over the edge in minutes. Then again. And again. He’d always been so good at getting me there. Doing everything to make sure I was pleasured properly.

Tonight was no different as he leans over me, slow, firm thrusts hitting exactly where I needed it as he mouthed at my wing, tongue tracing through the grooves, and one hand wrapped around my wrists above my head to hold me in place.

“Say my name, pretty girl” he says, heated kisses on my wing.

“Lucien,”

“Louder,” he growls.

“Lucien!”

“I want the whole house to hear you, sweet girl.” His tongue laves over a particularly sensitive spot and I’m gone again. Gushing over him and moaning his name loud enough that the whole house definitely heard it.

It’s not long after that his thrusts are slowing. He lets go of my hands so I can touch him, he always liked having my touch when he came. I grinned into our kiss as my hands ran over his body. His panting moans turning into grunted growls. He was so sexy like this. Covering me fully, hair falling around his face, teeth bared.

I reached up pushing his hair behind those pointed ears, thumb tracing over part of his scar before pulling him into a kiss that was more tongue than anything.

“Fuck, just like that, baby,” I moaned into his mouth. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Make me feel so good!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum in that pussy for you, pretty girl, then I'm gonna eat it out.”

That’s what did it for me, I tightened around him. He follows me over the edge a few thrust later with a growl of my name.

Then he’s slipping from my body and sliding down, kissing a trail to my centre, keeping true to his promise.

“Fuck,” He groaned, coming back up, sliding his tongue into my mouth to let me taste myself. Kissing me slow and sloppy. “So perfect. My pretty, perfect mate.”

Despite what we’d just done I blush at his words.

“My sweet handsome mate,” I whisper back, tumbing at the bottom of his scar again before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He holds me tight, arms wrapping around me as we catch our breath. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck breathing in his scent—organic, earthy and sweet. Perfect.

My eyes welled up when thoughts of leaving weave through my brain. This was my mate, I had built a life here with him. But I had been trapped in this house for so long that it wasn’t really life. I wanted to go home to Velaris. To my brother and our family. I could try to convince Lucien to go but that could put him in danger. I had almost lost him under the mountain, I could t go through that again. If I left first I could always seek him out later but to stay here when I had the opportunity to finally go home, when I had Feyre telling me she could break the wards binding me here. I couldn’t turn that down.

“My love, what’s wrong?” Lucien asks, pulling back to look at me. Our eyes meet as he wipes away my tears. “Talk to me.”

I sniffled. I felt like it was now or never. I either told him now or he would find out when I leave. I couldn’t do that to him though. It would break his heart to wake up one day and find me gone.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” He said, petting my hair.

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud,” I tell him, our eyes meeting.

“That’s okay, Princess” Lucien nods his head, concern written all over his face.

“You can’t tell Tamlin,” The crease between his brow deepens. “You can’t tell him, Lucien, please. Promise me.”

He watches me for a moment, confused and concerned but he nods. “I promise. I won’t tell him.”

“Feyre and Rhys’ bond wasn’t actually broken that day with Hybern. She’s has a plan to go back. She…she said she can break the wards that hold me here so I can— I can finally go home,” I tell him, his eyes widen but he doesn’t look entirely shocked at what I’ve told him.

“And I’m assuming you have the intention of going with her?” He asks, sadness tinged the words and the bond.

“I have to, Lucien. I haven’t seen Rhys in centuries. Centuries. And he thought I was dead the entire time until recently. I need to go home, I need to see him and the rest of our family,” I cried, hot tears sliding down my face. He grabs me, pulling me up and holding me. Stroking my hair and shushing me softly.

“You should go, Princess. You should go home,” He says, kissing my head. I pull back to look at him, searching his face.

“Come with me,” I whisper, grabbing his face. “You can come. You would love Velaris—”

“I can’t,” he cuts me of gently, stroking his knuckles down my cheek. “Not that I don’t want to. Fuck, it hurts just thinking about you being away from me but if the three of us disappear? Tamlin will flip shit.”

“And he won’t be able to get to us in Velaris,” I tell him, grabbing the hand caressing my cheek and holding it tightly. “We would be safe there, Lucien. We could have a life together, a real one. Our own place by the river I showed you. A proper mating ceremony. We’ve been talking about kids for a decade. We could happily and safely have them there.”

“I don’t know…” Lucien shakes his head and I can see the water lining his eye.

“Me and you, Lu. That’s what we always said. Me and you—”

“Always.” Lucien nodded, looking over my face. Taking in every detail like he was trying to remember what I looked like before I was even gone. “What if you go with Feyre and I come later? You have to go now, you’re right you can’t pass up this opportunity to go home. I understand that. But you can come back for me, right? I could help keep Tamlin away…for some time anyway.”

My tears break loose then as I sob against his neck.

“I know it’s the best option but I don’t want to leave you,” I cried, clinging to him as he pulled me into his lap, letting my wings cocoon around us.

“Sh, it’s gonna be okay, my love.” I feel his tears on my neck and my heart breaks.

It was right but it felt so wrong.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“So you’re joining us after all?” comes Tamlins snarky comment as soon as I walk out of the manor. I roll my eyes, fluffing the ugly powder blue dress.

“Unfortunately,” I rolled my eyes at him, it was too early for his shit, but still smiled at Lucien when his arm wrapped around my waist, careful of my wings.

“You can stay here,” Tamlin retorted with an eye roll of his own. “That would be preferable.”

“Well my mate asked me to attend. As did my friend, even if you wish Feyre wasn’t my friend,” I sneered at him with a wicked grin.

“I would never say that,” Tamlin returned the sneer, baring his teeth at me.

“Play nice, Princess,” Lucien purrs through the bond.

“Not out loud anyway,” I gave a sweet smile. “You look beautiful,” I said, hugging Feyre and kissing her cheek before pulling Lucien away to our horses.

Lucien helped me onto my horse, a gorgeous black mare, her coat shining even in the darkness of morning—a gift from Lucien after I accepted the mating bond. I looked down at him with a smile, running my hand through his hair.

“You’re lucky I love you, I really don’t want to deal with Ianthe’s shit today,” I said, situating myself in the saddle.

“Ianthe’s shit is exactly why I asked you to come,” Lucien said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it. “I appreciate you coming anyway, your presence will make it much more tolerable for me.”

“Yeah, I know, come on, let's get this over with,” I said, urging him to his own horse. “I’m ready to get today over with so I can get drunk and dance with you under the stars.”

Ugh, he looks so good. I thought as his head dropped back with a laugh before mounting his horse, dressed in autumn colors he stood out perfectly from everyone else wearing the hideously bright spring court colors. I’d be covered head to toe in Night Court black if it was allowed. I’d have loved to see the look on Ianthe’s face if I had shown up today in all black.

We set off soon after everyone had mounted their horses and there were already hundreds of fae crowded atop the hill when we arrived. I fought the urge to bare my teeth when I saw Ianthe’s gaze lingering on my mate as he dismounted his horse and strided to mine.

“Ignore it. She’s not worth your jealousy,” Lucien said as he reached for my hand, helping me from the saddle.

“I’m not jealous. I’m protective. I don’t like the way she looks at you,” I say, running my hands over the collar of his jacket. “Like she’ll drag you away to have her way with you whether you like it or not.”

“That’ll never happen, my love.”

“Damn right it won’t, I’d break her hands if she ever touches you,” I huff, as a feline smile crosses his lips.

“You’re sexy when you’re possessive,” He said, leaning down to kiss me, first my lips then my forehead before extending his arm to me to hold onto.

“You better make this up to me later,” I grumble, as I would much rather be back at the estate hiding in my room.

“Oh, I will make it up to you, sweet girl,” Lucien promised, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “slowly, with my tongue. Over and over.”

My body flushed knowing exactly how good he is with that wicked tongue. His gaze turns heated knowing exactly what I was thinking, feeling exactly what I was feeling.

“Lucien,” Tamlin calls from where he and Feyre are standing. I glance at those full lips one last time before he’s gently pulling me, guiding me away from our partially secluded spot. .

Jurian is at my other side suddenly walking with us as we trail behind Tamlin and Feyre—also linked by the arms and the Hybern Royals. I had seen the gleam in Feyre’s eye before she turned away, like a wolf getting ready to play with its prey. It made me giddy inside.

I couldn’t wait to witness her revenge.

We stopped walking when Tamlin and Feyre did, reaching Ianthe at her stupid altar as she offered them a singular nod of head. The Hybern twins shifted impatiently, Brannagh had made comments the night before how they didn’t bother with such things in Hybern—practically implying that soon we wouldn’t be bothering with it either. Smug little bitch.

“A blessed solstice to us all,” Ianthe called out to everyone around and I don’t roll my eyes the way I want to.

I stood there through an endless string of prayers and rituals, acolytes pouring sacred wine and the blessing of harvest goods. A lovely, rehearsed little number. Lucien was practically falling asleep between Feyre and I.

Ianthe lifted her wine and intoned “As the light is strongest today, let it drive out unwanted darkness. Let it banish the black stain of evil.” I sneered at her, I knew those words were directed at me. My brother. Feyre. Our home.

“She’s lucky my wine doesn’t end up in her pretty face,” I silently told Feyre, watching her expertly hide her grin with the wine chalice—her silent agreement.

“Would Princess Brannagh and Prince Dagdan do us the honor of imbibing this blessed wine?”

I shared a look with Feyre as the twins frowned at one another—the crowd murmuring behind us. But Feyre stepped aside, smiling a pretty smile and gesturing to the alter for the royals.

“Drink and let our new allies become friends,” Ianthe declared before they could refuse. “Drink and wash away the endless night of the year.”

The two daemanti surveyed their cups, most likely searching for any hint of poison. Feyre kept that smile on her face, I couldn’t extend that same faux courtesy when the prince looked my way. I didn’t care enough to put on the facade.

They each barely sipped the wine before trying to step away from the altar. Ianthe cooed at them like children, insisting they stay at the altar with her, to experience the ceremony at her side.

“I’m bored, Luc,” I grumbled to Lucien through the bond as Ianthe continued on with her praises and rituals. Eyes finding Lucien every now and then, looking away when I send her a death glare—lucky she doesn’t know who I really am.

“I’ll be over soon,” Lucien chuckles, pulling me into his side with an arm around my waist.

Finally, Tamlin was summoned over to light the candle for the souls lost this past year. This part bored me too. Those souls were gone; they didn’t need a candle lit to bring them back to the light. But just as I was starting to lose my patients the sky was finally filling with streaks of pink as Jurian was called forward to recite a prayer as well.

It left only Lucien and I standing with Feyre in the circle of grass, the altar and horizon in front of us and the crowd behind us. The look on Lucien’s face drew my attention as he scanned the area and I could help the crack of a smile when I noticed something out of place. A miniscule little detail no one else seemed to notice—except maybe now my mate.

I watched as Ianthe stepped toward the hill’s edge, her golden hair tumbling freely down her back as she lifted her arms to the sky. The chosen spot was intentional. Only that marker that told her where to stand wasn’t in the spot it had been in when we first arrived.

Golden rays of sunlight finally broke over the horizon. Light filled the world clear and strong. The murmurs started through the crowd. Cries of a name, not Ianthe’s but Feyre’s.

That gorgeous light had not filled and surrounded Ianthe but Feyre.

Ianthe seemed to be the last to notice, to see the sun was not blessing her but Feyre.

She glowed so brightly, brighter than what seemed natural for this occasion but I didn’t care to question why. She was beautiful—shining as if she were the star that hung above Ramiel.

“Curse breaker,” some murmured.

“Blessed,” others whispered.

Feyre's face was one of surprise and acceptance, though I knew it wasn’t genuine, those around us wouldn’t read it that way. They would only see what she allowed them too. The shock and bafflement of Tamlin and the Hybern twin’s faces was ever satisfying.

But Feyre didn’t look at them. She turned to Lucien and I, her light radiating so bright it was almost hard to keep that eye contact. A friend looking to another for help. She reached a hand to Lucien then to me.

I knew Ianthe had to be losing her shit behind us but I was too enchanted by my brother's mate. Yes, this was all a show, but Feyre was special.

I took her hand, watching Lucien do the same. Then we shared a look, lowering down to one knee, pressing her knuckles to our brow. I knew the crowd behind us had followed suit.

I had never kneeled for a high lord of the Spring Court. I was Princess of the Night Court. Heir of Velaris. Princess of Dreams. I knelt for no one—certainly not for anyone of the Spring Court. Not now, not ever.

I was not kneeling before Lady Feyre. Or Feyre Cursebreaker. I was kneeling for Feyre High Lady of the Night Court. Feyre that led Prythian from tyranny and darkness. Feyre that saved my mate and thousands of others under the mountain.

“My high lady,” I declared to her. The only person besides my brother I’d ever sworn fealty to.

I looked up at Feyre, our eyes meeting before she looked to Ianthe, smiling a sweet smile, one that transformed to show a bit of that wolf hiding beneath.

#Lucien vanserra the man you are🥵#calling Lucien beautiful a lot bc…well because he is #no elcuien #nothing against the pairing #in fact I can ship anyone with just about anyone lol #but I don’t feel like writing around the pairing and prefer LuLu baby to be mated to Rhys’ sister 😊#Lucien is just so 🤤#Rhys sister and Feyre are gonna have the best relationship #acotar #acotar fanfiction #lucien vanssera x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #princess of dreams

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readychilledwine · 6 months

Note

hi, would it he okay to request one where it’s reader x azriel and they’ve been struggling with fertility/getting pregnant. And after a while reader finds out she’s not only pregnant but with triplets😭😭 and they’re all crying happy tears together sith the ic and celebrate😭😍

I was struggling with fertility and finally got pregnant after so long and I couldn’t be happier, so seeing dad az would be so amazing, but I read ur latest post so if it’s a lot then please feel free to ignore ❤️❤️

No. This is perfect. I can do this. 💙💙

Azriel Week Day 6 Prompt - Past and Future - Threefold

Summary - After years of trying and unsuccessful attempts, you and Azriel finally receive everything you've asked and prayed for threefold.

Warnings - high-risk pregnancy, labor (nothing graphic), babies, illusions to miscarriages, inferred toll of pregnancy on mental health (its hard.)

A/n - this fit too perfectly for @azrielappreciationweek dad Az is my favorite to write as a father simply because his inner child deserves to heal 💜

Madja and Rhys held your upper body as another bout of sickness ripped through your stomach. You hadn't felt right for several days now. You were exhausted and irritable, and lately, nothing has stayed down.

Rhys pulled your hair back, rubbing small circles into your back. "I can call for Azriel, y/n," he offered again. "He's only doing some follow up things in Windhaven. There are no new issues."

Madja looked at the High Lord. Calling for him silently in her mind. It was clear to the healer what was going on, and she wanted you on bed arrest immediately. You and Azriel had been trying and struggling to have a babe for years. She inclined her head to Rhys, motioning for him to follow her.

"She's pregnant," she boldly said. "The scent is faint, meaning it's early, but her morning sickness indicates multiples." Rhysand's face fell, joy, happiness, fear, sadness all washing over him. You and Azriel were the last of the circle without children.

He and Feyre had 4, Cassian and Nesta had 2, Lucien and Elain had 2. Even Mor and Armen had adopted children. But you and Azriel? You had been trying for years now, and unsuccessful attempt after attempt had led to you two in long fights, heartache, and emotional turmoil.

"Were they even trying?"

Madja nodded at the question. "We tried one last alternative method. It was very painful for her. That's why I need you to command her to bedrest, Rhysand. For them."

The High Lord reentered the bathroom, gently picking you up after you finished brushing your teeth and began the pathway to your room. "You're done working for today. I'm calling for Azriel." Madja opened the door for him, watching as he gently set you down on the soft sheets and blankets you had already started subconsciously nesting with. "You will not leave this bed unless one of us is here with you."

The Riverhouse set food and water on the table, indicatine needed you needed to eat. "Madja, what's going on?"

The old healer looked at you. "I'll be able to give you a better answer once Azriel is here and I examine you."

Azriel flew hard. Not wanting to be away a single second longer after Rhysand's urgent message. He landed with a thud, and instantly went into Rhysand's office where he and Cassian sat in silence. "Where is she? What's wrong?"

Rhys motioned for him to sit and Cassian handed him the whiskey he was nursing. Rhys sighed, "She's pregnant. Madja thinks there's multiple. You're both done. You will distribute your missions until further notice and stay with your mate." Rhys paused as Azriel threw back the expensive whiskey. "Madja is with her and waiting for you for the exam."

You were laid back, Azriel holding your soft hand in his scarred ones near his mouth as he kissed each knuckle. Madja was glowing, hands over your abdomen. You watched her mouth twitch and Rhysand stop pacing in the corner before he started to just laugh. "You are indeed pregnant, my dear. With three healthy developing children. Maybe 6 weeks." Azriel's face fell first, looking at Rhysand in panic. "I will leave you two with your High Lord. He is aware of my opinion given your history." Madja left the from gracefully, a firm smile cemented on her face as she walked into the hallway where the Inner Circle waited.

Rhysand moved to the foot of the bed, leaned on the post as he looked between you and Azriel. "You're on bed rest. You will not leave this bed or go anywhere alone. No training. No long walks. No long trips into town. We," he motioned between himself and Azriel, "will set the nursery. You, my dearest y/n, will no longer lift a damn finger." Azriel had not moved, his eyes locked on you. Rhys took the silent message, leaving the room as Azriel moved onto the bed with you, his mouth immediately on yours as that dam broke and tears began to fall.

"3?" He asked in shock, a hand going to your stomach. "And 6 weeks? You're already to where-"

"I know," you interrupted softly. "If we can make it 2 more weeks, it'll be the furthest we've made it." Azriel's hand tilted your head to his, and he kissed you softly.

Azriel paused. "Rhys is asking Madja if she'd be willing to stay here with her own chambers. They're also all setting up a rotation to ensure one of them is always with us."

You nodded, hand going over his to rest on your stomach. "3."

"3," he whispered back.

6 weeks passed without complications. At, 12 weeks and you were halfway to that safe period Madja had promised. The healer had her hand over your stomach, glowing in her magic and happiness.

"Such healthy little heartbeats." You felt Azriel's body language relax and his hand gently squeeze yours. "Everything looks very healthy so far. I will not lift the bedrest, though."

You looked at Azriel, silently pleading for him to advocate for you and were met with a soft apologetic gaze. "No," he commanded softly. "You stay here. I stay here. We stay here." House arrest, bed rest, that was the only issue so far. You were used to your work, to running daily, to anything but this. Madja left with a small smile as Azriel whispered thank you, and you began to cry. "I know, my love-"

"No you don't. You do not know what it's like to be trapped here. I can't even go outside without Rhys or Cassian appearing out of fucking no where. I miss the sun, the grass." You took a deep breath. "I am confined to this house and it's many walls for the well being of our babies. I understand that, but what about my well being, Azriel? What about my mental health?"

Azriel looked down, your normally selfless mate. "I'm sorry, y/n, but until I know something as simple as laying in the sun won't hurt them, I will support you being in the home, maintaining low stress levels. I will see if I can find a compromise. Perhaps an atrium? I know you've always wanted one."

You woke up to that the very next day, Azriel, Rhys, Lucien, and Cassian were all shirtless with other workers. A room facing your favorite garden had been wrecked, the furniture all moved. They had started at sunrise and at nightfall it stopped. Between magic, skills, and your husband refusing a break, you had a skylit atrium. Rhysand moved to you, covered in dirt and sweat, tilting your chin to place a small kiss on your temple, then Cassian, then Lucien, the last leaving his hand ok your already large stomach for a little while with a happy smile.

Azriel was moving the furniture back, shadows assisting every step of the way. He finally entered the room, lifting you gently from the chair you were reading in, and placing you in the lounging couch he had moved into the full glass room.

"Az-"

"I love you," he interrupted. "And I'm sorry you're having to make this sacrifice for us and our family, but please know I love you. Please know I am just worried. We've lost so much, too many already. Please, y/n, meet me here. Let this be our common ground until Madja says otherwise."

You had no choice but to nod, eyes locked on the beautiful night sky you had not seen in what felt like months. "I'm hungry." Azriel smiled at the statement. His eyes lit up as he felt your gentle caving down the bond. "Could you perhaps bathe and feed me? Maybe out here?" Azriel nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Before you blinked, your third trimester was half way over, and suddenly bedrest was all you could think about. You were uncomfortable, large, constantly feeling as if the babes were using you as a personal playground. You and the Twins were in the kitchen when it happened, tight pain shot through your stomach and wetness came, your hand flew to Cerridwen and she supported you immediately, screaming for Madja as she moved you to sit.

The next several hours blurred together. Rhysand appearing and having Cassian help him carry you to a tub per Madja's request. Him holding your mind as he apologized over and over.

It made sense that this was happening now. The one time there was a mission that required Azriel. The one time he was in the Mortal Lands, having to spy on the Queen furthest from your home. Rhysand held your hand through the process, Cassian helping support your body as every inch of you felt like giving up and going out.

Until that first scream came. That first wail of life. That first tiny little body handled to one of the twins, small perfect wings intact. "Push, y/n," Rhys whispered softly. "They need their siblings." It could have been but moments, possibly hours. You didn't know. But a second cry came followed by the door slamming open and Azriel running to your side, allowing Rhysand to move and help with the babes.

"I'm so sorry," you kept saying, guilt hitting you at his bittersweet joy of missing two of the babes being born. "I-"

"It's okay. I'm here for this one." Azriel kissed your temple. "Two have wings, my love. You are doing so well."

The third cry came soon after, your body wanting to be done before finally giving out as Azriel and Cassian waited for Madja to heal you the best she could. She nodded and they removed you from the tub, body absolute done as you rested in Azriel's chest.

Cassian had gone to the babes, his excitement too heavy. Soon the whole Inner Circle and Nyx sat in the room, waiting for Madja to begin the announcements. She walked one of the babies to you, "First Born, winged, healthy weight for a triplet. Boy." Azriel stilled, his grip on your hand tightening.

Rhys walked the second over, a familiar soft look in his eyes, "Second born, winged, also healthy and hungry. Boy."

Cassian was sobbing holding his little bundle, looking at Azriel and then nodding. Your mate's dam broke, handing you the two sons instantly and reaching for the baby Cassian had. "Third born. Wingless for now, we all know that won't be the case forever, though. A little smaller than Madja would like. Girl."

Azriel held her close, his eyes locked on her perfect little face as tears fell. "You promised," he reminded you gently. You were too busy, admiring your boys to even respond. They were holding hands, both searching for their sister. "Y/n."

You broke your stare, brows knit in confusion. "They're your lineage, Azriel. You know you have last say in their names." Madja and the Inner Circle now stood closer as Azriel studied the babes one by one, never letting go of his daughter.

"Ophelia," he handed her gently to you. "After my mother." He took one of the boys, stroking his little cheek softly. He was holding the second born, who was wearing a serious pout. The was the largest of the three, little wings trying to stretch already on his back. "Ramiel. Because I have a gut feeling." Nyx laughed gently, silently asking to take his cousin and get him situated for a bottle. Azriel gave him to his nephew, a look of warning on his face. He took the oldest, who immediately took a scarred finger into his tiny hands. "Opinions, love," he asked you before realizing you were feeding your daughter. "She just decided to latch on there, huh?"

"Pretty much," you looked at your oldest son, the second smallest. Face all smiles. "Arnan," you looked to Armen. "After his aunt who found the method that brought them into the world." She was at Azriel's side immediately, taking the babe from him without him even putting up a fight.

*3 months later*

You and Azriel sat in the nursery. The boys in his arms, feeding softly from bottles, your daughter in yours breastfeeding. Figuring out a schedule to ensure all of them breastfed once or twice a day had been difficult but the routine was easy now. Ophelia slept best through the night after skin to skin and breastfeeding. Arnan was less fussy in the mornings when his breakfast came directly from you. Ramiel napped better after an afternoon breast feeding. "They're holding their heads up so well," Azriel cooed. "My strong boys." He was a male obsessed and in love. He was frequently out your shared bed at night, and you'd find him, sleeping with all three of them on his broad bare chest in the nursery. He was the perfect father despite not having an example of how to be one.

"I think our sweet girl will get there soon," you kept watch on her, holding her little hand as she reached for you. "We're just a Danity little thing, though so Heaven forbid daddy has to carry and coddle us more." You teased them both as Azriel's jaw dropped.

"I can't help it, love. Look at her, look at those eyes, that nose, her little smile. I'll carry her to Spring and back by foot." He stood, burping both of the boys and laid them in their cribs before coming to sit in front of his girl. "I want her when you're done."

"You say that until they poop."

"They're so warm and happy after breastfeedings, y/n." He watched as she unlatched by choice, reaching for her father's familiar voice and he took her. "And her belly is all full. And she's so happy. My little star. The perfect ending to our family's constellation." He walked her to her crib, continuing to coo her. "All of my little stars," he turned their mobiles on, watching as they all slowly shut their eyes and then walked to you.

He left the door open a crack, escorting you to your adjoining bedroom. Once inside he kissed you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he did, and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"I love you too. Let's go to bed. Please. They hardly napped at all today. Nyx got them that damn toy and I am still deciding if our nephew gets to live." Azriel laughed quietly, moving to the bed with a hand holding yours. "Perhaps tonight you could stay here."

He paused, staring at you as he pulled the blanket over you two. "I don't know what you're talking about." His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I always stay the night here."

You kissed his hand. "Of course you do, Azzie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, y/n."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azrielweek2023 #dad!azriel x reader

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mysaintkitten · 7 months

Text

Loser, Baby | Neil lewis x fem!reader

prompt: neil swears he’s grown now and that it’ll take more than a shitty porno to get him hard, so you put him to the test (this based off of a suggestion i was sent !! thank you very much to whoever sent this !! and a quick reminder to feel free to send me prompt and character suggestions hehe)

WARNINGS: subby!neil kinda, unprotected sex (p in v), orgasm denial, i think that’s all ?? (NSFW, no minors)

word count: 2.2k

“the new shipment has come in!” jonathan calls out from the front of the store, lugging in a medium sized cardboard box filled with tapes. he places the box down onto the checkout counter before temporarily leaving to find a box cutter.

you, neil, and lucien gather around the box. you’re a bit confused, you were expecting a shipment sometime next week- what’s this one doing here so early? but after all, you hadn’t been working here for too long so maybe unexpected shipments were normal.

“do you know whats in here?” you ask to lucien and neil, who both claim they have no idea. jonathan returns with the box cutter and slices through the tape that’s sealing the box together, proceeding to then tug the box open.

you peek into the box, and you’re taken aback by what you see- you must be seeing this wrong. VHS tapes filled with graphic covers fill the box, it’s hard to focus on one singular film when all the titles include words like GAPING or FUCK or HORNY. you can’t help but laugh, this must be a gag gift. jonathan and lucien shoot glances at neil before laughing themselves.

you turn to look at neil, but he’s not laughing, he doesn’t even look happy anymore, he looks livid.

“we can’t sell this shit, get rid of it.” he chided, crossing his arms in front of his body.

“what? dude, we can’t just get rid of these perfectly good tapes. we have a mature only section, this could bring in a whole new wav-“ lucien laughs before neil cuts him off, “no. get rid of them. it’s my store and i don’t wanna sell this shit. i don’t care what you do with them, but we aren’t selling them.” neil spat before leaving to head to the storage room.

you had never seen him this agitated, over some simple pornos too. i mean, you guys did have an adult only section and normally neil had no issue with selling those tapes. why were these different?

“guess he still remembers ..” jonathan whispers, snickering quietly with lucien. huh?

“still remembers what?” you ask, wondering if this situation was more layered than you initially thought.

“back in our freshman year of college, we’d rent these tapes and do that freaky-straight-boy circlejerk shit .. whoever came first would lose.” lucien says, beginning to take the tapes out of the box. “neil would lose, almost every time.” jonathan laughs.

god, no wonder he wanted these tapes gone. getting a better look at the covers, they were disgusting. not in an actual disgust way, but just so crude. filthy. and knowing neil was coming to these made an unfamiliar feeling bubble within your stomach. it wasn’t a bad feeling, it was just foreign to you.

jonathan and lucien take a few of the tapes and head to the back office to start figuring out how much they could sell the them for, and you feel your curiosity get the best of you. out of the remaining tapes, you shuffle through until one sticks out to you.

HOT, WET MILF GETS FUCKED HARD

lord, it’s almost refreshing to see a title that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. you know exactly what you’re getting into. you grab the tape and slip it into your purse, a new idea stirring within you.

you finish the rest of your shift and the topic of the tapes has seemingly come to a close, no one else mentioning them for the rest of your shift.

as you and neil drive home together, you bring the topic back to the surface.

“what’s wrong with the tapes?” you ask, wanting to hear neil’s side of the story.

he sighs, “i don’t know, it’s just, maybe it’s cause i’m older and stuff like that doesn’t interest me much anymore. or maybe it’s because i’ve realized how demeaning the porn industry is to women ..” he rambles, saying everything except for a direct answer.

“neil, neil, it’s alright.” you chuckle softy, “if you still enjoy porn, that’s okay, i’m not expecting you to lose all interest in viewing sex simply because we’re in a relationship.” you reply, hoping it’ll direct him towards giving you a more honest answer,

he starts to grip the steering wheel slightly, “well, it’s like, you know, i do still like to .. see sex .. but that stuff doesn’t turn me on anymore. i’m grown now.” he almost gloats. you decide to let him have this for a few minutes, or at least until you guys arrive to your shared apartment.

once inside, you decide to bring your idea to light. you place your purse on the couch, “so neil, baby, i’m gonna be honest with you” you say, “jonathan and lucien told me why you feel this way about these tapes, the jerk off sessions, you coming quick ..” you add, he becomes flushed, beginning to stutter while trying to find the right words,

“and since you told me that you’re grown now and that you aren’t into any of that anymore, i wanna put you to the test.” you continue before pulling the tape out of your purse, watching as neil’s eyes dart between the cover of the tape and your face. all while he’s still speechless, you skip the vhs into your tape player.

you approach neil and gently squeeze his wrist, guiding him over to the couch to sit down beside you.

“now, we’re gonna watch this, and whoever gets turned on first loses. since you’re not into it anymore, this should be easy for you, right?” you instructed, enjoying how blatantly nervous neil was. he was full of shit and you both knew that, but his pride overrides all other aspects.

he gulps, “yeah. i’ll be fine. how will i know you aren’t getting wet, though?” he replies back, a bit snarky, almost as if he thought he had stumped you.

“hm, guess we’ll just have to do it like this then ..” you stated, grabbing his hands and slipping it into your pants and underneath your panties, his cold rough hands cupping your warm mound. before he can even process what you did, you slide your hand into his pants and boxers, cupping him the same. he gasps softly, “no, no, this isn’t fair! you can’t just have me hold your pussy and expect me to-” he stammers

“sh, it’s about to start.” you cooed, turning your gaze to the screen.

it’s retro porn, filmed by shitty cameras and filled with shitty acting. all seems to be going well for the first few moments before any of the actual fucking starts, neil’s hips shift uncomfortably beneath your hand, but he’s still soft.

the people on screen begin to kiss, and moan, and grope. before long, the lead milf is on some sort of counter, legs spread with her bare pussy showing. she’s fingering herself in front of her counterpart, gasping and writhing about how wet she is and how badly she needs to be fucked. and before she even has a cock inside of her, you feel neil begin to pulse beneath your hand. he knows he’s lost. you both know. you carefully look over at him, he’s blushing and his brows are furrowed, his lips twitching ever so slightly. poor thing. the tape wasn’t turning you on, but seeing how affected he was, was turning you on.

you don’t mention it and kept this knowledge to yourself, you continue to cup him, but you gradually apply more pressure along with moving your hand around gently, adding some friction to the mix.

he subconsciously begins to grind into your hand slightly, his own fingers getting a bit curious in your pants, toying around gently with your folds. once the woman on screen starts to get actually fucked, neil’s undeniably hard.

you look over at him, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth while smirking, “you lost, baby.” you purr, weakly pumping him.

“n-no! i told you it isn’t fair! i was thinking about you being in these positions and i just got ..” he rambles, “i don’t care, sweetheart. rules are rules.” you cut him off,

“im not a monster, though ..” you murmur before taking your hand out of his pants and sliding his out of yours, you then proceeding to lift your hips off the couch to slip your panties and pants off.

you scoot your back against the armrest and spread your legs for him, “you can have your fun, i can’t just get you worked up and then give you nothing, can i?” you assured, watching as that familiar little grin formed on his face. he slips his pants off and scrambles to get himself between your legs, wasting no time aligning himself with your pussy. spreading your wetness around with his tip.

he nearly whines, “i kept thinking about your pussy .. and how hard it would get me to see you like that .. all spread out and wet ..” he begins to push the head of his cock inside you, “jus’ not fair ..” he mutters,

“worry about that later” you advised, slipping a finger into your mouth before bring that finger down to your clit, rubbing side to side gently against the nub.

that seems to work on him and suddenly he isn’t focused on the fairness of the game anymore. his hands sneak around your thighs, gripping on the soft skin. while slowly thrusting in and out of you, he brings your legs up to his shoulders before picking up his pace. placing small, wet kisses on your inner knees while gripping your hips tightly.

you moan at the gesture, snaking your hands around neil’s torso to tug at his shirt, needing something to grip while he begins to pound into you.

his thrusts are deep and desperate, like he’s that same horny college student all over again, this time with access to actual pussy. knowing how desirous he was for you made you wetter, you could feel him thrusting in and out of you with more ease and you could even hear how slick you had become as he continued to fuck into you, subtle squelching noises begin to mix into the already erotic array of sounds coming from the two of you.

“lemme see your tits, baby ..” he whines, nudging the bottom half of your shirt with his trembling hands, you oblige and lift your shirt up, revealing your bra.

though he wanted to see more, it gets him going none the less. he whimpers as he reaches his hand out to grip your covered tit, kneading the pillowy flesh while slowing down his thrusts slightly

he hooks his finger around the corner of your bra where the cup and strap connects and he pulls it down, just enough to where he can see a good portion of your nipple, a small groan leaving his lips as you feel him twitch inside you. it’s almost cute, seeing a grown man become weak at the sight of a bare nipple. he picks up his pace again and watches the recoil of your barely exposed tit as he pumps into you roughly.

“so beautiful, can’t believe you’re all mine” he moans, you hum in approval, smirking at him through half-lidded eyes, “get to fuck this pretty pussy whenever i like .. you’re a dream.” he purrs, his head going slightly slack against your calf that’s still propped up on top of his shoulder.

“all yours ..” you moan in your most sultry tone, trying to push him closer to the edge, “you gonna come in my pussy, baby?”

he whimpers again, nodding eagerly, gripping your thighs tightly as he picks up his pace.

“gonna come, so close, god, fuck!” he groans, nows the time, you think to yourself.

“stop.” you say firmly, placing a hand flat against his chest, his thrusts slow down before coming to a complete halt.

“wha.. what’s wrong?” he questions, breathlessly, still incredibly close to coming directly inside you.

“pull out.” you reply in the same tone, he whines, but complies.

“what is it? did i do something wrong?” he probes, a worried expression lingering on his face

“no, you didn’t do anything wrong, love. but you lost. and you can’t come until i say so.” you reply, reaching to the floor to grab your discarded pants and panties, his worried expression stays on his face but it shifts to a different type of worried.

“what? no! you can’t! i’m so close ..” he mewls, “you can’t just leave me this hard! i’ll die!”

you chuckle at his exaggerations, “you’ll be fine, it’s not my fault it takes nothing more than a strong gust of wind to get you worked up.” you say softly, bringing your body upright to cup his face before pecking him on the nose.

“i’m going to take a shower ..” you add before standing to your feet, his eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping, it’s comical to you, “you’re gonna be all soapy and wet in the other room and i’m supposed to just sit here, painfully hard, and deal with it?” he whines. you think he may be even cry, him being so pathetic is almost sweet.

“mhm!” you reply, ruffling his hair before turning your body around, leaving him on the couch to go shower.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #this was fun to write #:)

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ervotica · 3 months

Note

Domestic fluff with Lucien

Just soft compliments, cuddling, hugs and fluff

My baby deserves the WORLD

pairing; lucien vanserra x fem!reader

warnings; none! just fluff and a little suggestive flirting

The apartment is quiet this time of morning. Blazing hues of orange and yellow and pink creep over the horizon, and iridescent rays push their way past the curtains and onto your sleeping face, illuminating the gentle scrunch of your features as you rouse from softly dozing.

A yawn cracks your face right in two, and your limbs stretch and twist in voyage of your mate, of the warmth of him that you so desperately want to curl into- you find only crumpled sheets and a bare space where he should be.

Then you're reluctantly rolling out of the cocoon of comfort between the thick bedsheets, and tiptoeing your way down the stairs in nothing but your thin sleep shorts and a bra.

A flash of bright auburn draws your eye to Lucien, his back to you as he pours two mugs full of scalding tea, the steam rising and curling around his long, ring adorned fingers that clasp the teapot. A smile tugs your lips up at the corners, even more so when he turns to set the pot down, his rasping cadence humming a lilting tune that pulls you toward him like a magnet.

Your hands move of their own accord, snaking their way up the base of his spine and flaring out until your fingers are splayed against miles of bare, golden skin. He shivers under your touch, leaning back just as you twine your arms firmly around his midriff and plant your face against the dip of his back.

"Hi, gorgeous," you murmur, voice thick and sticky with sleep. The heat that emanates from him wreaths itself around your very bones, crusting lashes falling closed when he amusedly tugs on the mating bond and exhales a deep breath through his nostrils.

"Morning, sleepy girl," he laughs, twisting in your grip until you're eye level with his chest, cheeks red-hot with affection and smushed against the smooth plane of muscle of his pec. "You're up early."

"You weren't in bed," you murmur; the vibrations of your words reverberate against Lucien's bare skin. His boxers are hung low in his hips, enticing your hands to sweep lower, tips of your cold fingers breaching the thin elastic.

"Easy," he groans, stopping you short on your journey beneath his underwear. "You little minx."

You tip your head back to meet his eyes - one russet and one of incandescent gold that whirs when he tips his gaze down to watch you.

"You love me," you tease. "You can't get enough of me, handsome."

"Mm." The grating scratch of his voice has you arching into his touch, tucking your shoulder beneath his armpit as he stretches to the counter and places a mug in your free hand. You hum appreciatively, nose scrunching tight when he leans down to smear a kiss over the crown of your head. "You're insatiable."

The words are a murmur against your hair but you don’t miss them- you never do. Your head tilts up to scrape against the sharp curve of his jaw, and then you’re tugging him to the living room, forcing him down into the soft leather and haphazardly attempting to lay across him; you’re a mess of sprawled limbs and frazzled hair, draped messily over his lap as you try to avoid sloshing him with your cup of tea and barely succeed.

He hooks a corded bicep over the nape of your neck and sinks into the sofa, softening at your reverent touch, the way you idly twist the ends of his hair and shuffle yourself closer to cover more of his body with your own. Your breath is hot and tickling at his bare chest.

“I love you, y’know,” you sigh, watching the way his face contorts with adoration at your words; your sticky lashes kiss at the corners, pushed together by your beaming grin. “Didn’t think I’d ever find my mate. But you. You’re perfect. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be tied to my soul.”

“For a descendant of Satan, you’re pretty cheesy, my darling,” he drawls, crows feet crinkling with laughter as you gasp, features morphing into a scowl that only serves to make him laugh with more fervour.

“I won’t stand for this, Lucien. Don’t make me take it back!”

“You wouldn’t,” he roars with amusement. “You love me.”

“I hate you,” you grumble, flushing white-hot all over.

“I love you too, my little devil.”

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shadowandlightt · 3 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /three/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two

The night of Calanmai came. You were buzzing with energy. You dressed in old clothes, and wrapped yourself in Lucien’s cloak, trying to hide your scent as best as possible. To anyone else out there, it would look like you belonged to the fox. That you were his and no one else’s. Which would also keep you safe from anyone creeping a little too close.

“Stay with me, do you understand?” Lucien questioned.

“I know, I know.”

The beat of the drums outside grows louder and louder. You could feel them in your soul, begging you to run out and join the fun. You ached with anticipation. You were going to leave this dreaded house and finally see your brother again.

You just wanted to lay eyes on him and know that he was still in there somewhere, and wasn’t the monster everyone believed him to be. Certainly he was doing what he had to do to survive? Certainly your sweet caring brother was still in there, buried deep within?

“Come, we don’t have much time,” Lucien said, leading you out of your rooms.

You shiver against the cool night. Though you weren’t sure if it was the cold that was making you shiver, or the thought of seeing him again. You couldn’t tell him who you were, couldn’t allow him to realize you were still alive.

He would destroy the spring court and with it any hopes of beating Amerantha at her own game. If Feyre could just admit that she was in love with Tamlin, which somehow you had a feeling she was slowly falling for the Lord of Spring, everything would change. Maybe you could go home again.

You longed for home. Longed for Valaris, and the group of fae that you called family. You longed for Cassian and Mor constantly fighting and joking. You longed for Amren and her grumpy nature. And Azriel…your Az. The person who seemed to understand you more than anyone else in the world. You longed for him most of all. He was so quiet and understanding, and so beautiful in every possible way. You wished you would have told him. But you were still just a child.

You were still so young when Tamlin and his family took you. Barely even eighteen, but you aged slower somehow, so while you were of age, you barely looked sixteen. So small and young. So much of your life stripped away from you.

You feel Rhys before you spot him. You feel the night rippling off of him, calling your own powers out to play. The headache slowly sets in at the base of your skull as you try to reign in your own shadows and darkness.

He’s talking to Feyre, and for a moment you smile, because you could see them together in another life. Perhaps if she’d been born a Fae. Perhaps if Rhys needed to be the one to break Amerantha’s curse, and not Tamlin. Because you hated the idea of Tamlin getting to be happy with Feyre once this was all said and done. You hated the fact that she would live out her few good years with that beast.

“What do we have here?” His silky voice questioned, violet eyes looking you over, “Already have a play thing, Lucien?”

“Not quite,” I spoke up, daring him to recognize me from beneath the glamor.

you could feel his mental claws scratching against my shields, looking for a way in. He would not find one, of course. Having been trained to block him out since you were old enough to understand the concept.

His eyes narrowed at you, taking a step closer towards you. Meanwhile, Lucien hissed at you to stay put while he dragged Feyre back to the manor house, leaving you alone with Rhys. You ached to tell him, but you couldn’t. If you told him you’d be dead before the next moon rise.

“Who are you?”

You bite back the bile that rises in your throat, “Lucien’s…friend.”

“No, you aren’t.”

You only smirk and try to force your way into his head again, sweat starting to bead on your forehead.

“If you were his friend, you wouldn’t be full of faebane.”

“Maybe I choose this.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he tisks, “Poor little lamb, stuck in spring.”

“I’m far from a little lamb,” You hiss back, hating that you sound and feel weak.

You are weak, in every way that matters now, you’re weak. And Rhys can’t do anything to help you. He can’t take you away from here, he can’t save you. Because he can’t even save himself. He’s stuck under Amerantha’s thumb, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Your only hope is that poor human girl to actually fall in love with Tamlin. What a fate that would be.

Lucien returns, dropping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You had to do something, anything to try to let him know you were alive. That you were here. You were right there, just silently begging for him to notice you. So you did the only thing you could think of and flung out what little power you had left. You scratched down his mental shields, already feeling sweat beading on your forehead.

At this point he’d turned his back, ready to move away from the boring conversation. But your little outburst caused him to spin back around and stalk towards you. You thought he might go for your throat, might kill you right there for daring to do anything to him but he didn’t.

“I could kill you right where you stand,” He hisses at you, “Without breaking a sweat.”

“Ah, but you’d have to catch me first,” you struggle to say from the strain of the faebane, “I hear I’m like the wind.”

His eyes widen, hands reaching for you, before Lucien took hold of you and dragged you away. You were back in the manor house before you could even think. Lucien started to yell at you, drowning out the sound of the drums outside, which were growing louder and louder. The rite would start soon, Lucien would be needed.

“What did you say to him?” He demands.

“Nothing, you heard me.”

“No, that meant something!”

“Just something I used to say as a child,” You shake your head, “I’m going to bed. Have fun.”

You wave him off as you go. You felt heavy and tired. But somehow so invigorated. Your brother was still your brother, you knew that. Deep down he was still Rhys, and not the monster everyone believed him to be. Deep down, he was still there, just waiting to come back out like everyone else.

That night you dreamt of your wings. Flying over Valaris with Rhys and your mother. Laughing with Cas and Az at the House of Wind. You dreamt about everything, and at the same time nothing.

“I’m going to get you, little star!” Rhys laughed from behind you as you ran away from him.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” You yell, jumping off of the ledge, “I’m like the wind!”

The air catches your wings and pulls you along. You smile and giggle as you pivot to avoid Rhys again. The wind whips through your hair as you fly, you don’t bother trying to stop it. It only makes you laugh harder. You feel so free as you fly higher and higher over the city. You wonder for a second if they can hear you laughing down in the Rainbow.

You’d have to stop back down there today, you wanted to listen to the music some more. Maybe purchase a painting or two for your rooms. Maybe you could convince Cas or Az to come with you.

Arms reach around you, causing you to shriek. Rhys’ laugh filled your ears and you relaxed into his arms. It was rare to have moments like this now. Your father kept him so busy, much to yours and your mother’s dismay.

He pulls you in close and laughs as you nudge him with your elbow, “I love you, little star,” He whispers to you above the wind.

“I love you too, Rhys.”

When you wake the following morning, you have tears in your eyes. Your pillow is wet with them. You do not get out of bed that day.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcofeesotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn

#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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highladyjane · 2 months

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Y'all, my husband is getting into his Elriel era and making points 😊😂

My husband as soon as I opened my eyes this morning:

Is Elain the one who lives in Rosehall? Or is it a place where you go buy roses?

Me: Huh?

H: I just finished this chapter... Rhys told Azriel to go buy presents and go to Rosehall. Does Elain live there?

Me: I think you read all of that wrong... They said a "her", right? Who do you think that "her" means for Azriel?

H: Elain?

Me: Uh... What made you think that? Can you think of another "her" for Azriel who might live there?

H: His sister? Mor?

Me: When did they mention Azriel having a sister? And Mor lives with them. Think again.

H: Oh, um... His mum's still alive?

Me: 🤦🏻‍♀️ Did they ever even mention her getting ☠️?

H: Oh, right... It was Cassial's mum who was ☠️, right?

Me: CassiaNNNNNNN! And yes, it's most likely Azriel's mum who lives there and who he's buying presents for. The place is just called Rosehall... I don't know why though. But what made you think Elain lived there?

H: I think they mentioned she and Nesta moved out... And because she likes gardening and is always about roses and flowers so it just sounds like her place... And earlier in the chapter, I think Rhys was trying to get a reaction out of Azriel about Lucien and Graysen... They're both connected to her, and Azriel doesn't want to spy on Lucien because he says he's Elain's mate. Rhys seems intrigued, because I really think Azriel likes Elain. Is he courting her?

Me: What makes you think that? Did you read it anywhere?

H: Isn't it obvious?

Me *slightly stunned over his choice of words, obviously*: What is?

H: Well, because of everything that he did for her during the war? When he went to save her and then he gave her that knife that he hadn't even let Mor or Cassial- CassiaNNNNN touch. He could have given it to Feyre, his High Lady if he wasn't going to fight and if it didn't matter so much, but he gave it to Elain. And I don't know... I just think their personalities make sense together... They seem to be the quiet ones who likes being at the side of everything or keep to themselves. They make me think of old couples who like sitting in their garden drinking tea all afternoon while the children's making a mess. *I laughed so hard at this* So I thought that's who Rhys meant lived in Rosehall and why Azriel's going there... to woo her.

Me: Not everything's about Elain for Azriel...

H: But everytime they mention "Elain" or "Azriel", the other is always mentioned right after. They keep being pointed out. Like Cassian and Nesta. I think they're going to end up together... Do they end up together in the next book?

Me: We'll see. You'll have to keep reading to find out.

H: Maybe Elain reminds Azriel of his mum... So he likes her and that's why he was protective of her...

Me *trying to gauge if I even have the mind to explain the Oedipus complex before having coffee to him*: You mean he'd court her just because she reminds him of his mum?

H: I mean, if his only family is his mum and he's actually close to her, a guy is more likely going to like a girl he knows would obviously get along with her, right..? Poor Lucien though. *chuckles* Maybe Elain will like him back at some point, but I think it's going to be Azriel... I don't know. They just make more sense right now.

If even my husband thinks it's obvious, it's pretty fricking obvious.

#ACOFAS is peaking with Elriel hints and should NOT be skipped i'm telling you #acofas #elain x azriel #elriel #elriel supremacy #husband reacts to acotar

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scorpioriesling · 10 days

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Guilty as Sin?

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Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warnings: angsty asf

Summary: It wasn't hard to love your best friend; after all, you'd been through everything together. He'd seen every in-depth part of you, but now you were forced to give all of that up. All because of the stupid cauldron, and stupid fate.

SR’s Note: Brb going to get "mine" tatted on my upper thigh... this is so UGH anyways. I had to; I apologize in advance. This is one of my favorite new songs.

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The cauldron could boil itself at this point.

You weren't sure how to make the best of this situation; something you could normally do without fail. A talent everyone loved about you. However, that talent was failing you now.

Now that the bond had snapped, and there was no way out. No way of avoiding what you so desparetely wanted for years, and somehow it all ended up messed up in the end.

Lucien was a good male, you would give him that much; but that wasn't enough. Your life felt near over when your best friend revealed his hidden bond with the Archeron girl -- but now, you were in the same position. Somehow, you were cursed in more ways than one. Not only was your best friend mated to someone else -- but now so were you.

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"You're right, we should definitely get matching tattoos!" You laughed, bumping into Azriel's arm as you both stumbled down the Velaris streets. It was past midnight, and you were both buzzed from your night out at Rita's -- something you did at least once a week -- and the walk home turned into more of a walk through town.

He chuckled beside you, fingers curling around your elbow to help steady you. His wide smile was a sight you'd never tire of; he rarely let it show, but when he did, you made sure to illustrate it in your mind, holding onto the masterpiece forever.

"It isn't our worst idea..." he admitted, taking another swig from the bottle he held. You watched as his throat bobbed, swallowing the liquid and turning his attention back to you. You look toward the sky, trying and failing to pretend you weren't staring.

"What should we get?" You ask with a grin. He ponders for a moment, brow lifted in mockery. "Hmm.." he says. "What if we got eachother's handwriting?" You giggled, and he laughed with you.

"I'm serious!" He exclaimed. The tattoo parlor was coming into view, and you rolled your eyes. "I don't know if I trust you to literally write on me," you say. "We've been friends for far too long for me to put it past you to write something like "Azriel is so hot" or "Kiss my ass" on me-" You barely get it all out before laughing again, his gaze on you softening as he loops an arm around your shoulders.

"I promise I won't do something so vulgar," he says. You're now in front of the tattoo shop, the neon lights illuminating his face in a deep blue glow. He grabs the door handle and opens it, gesturing you to go inside.

"Ladies first." He smirks. You lightly smack his shoulder, and saunter your way inside.

"Fine -- but you have to go first." You throw over your shoulder. He enters behind you, and within minutes he's put in a chair and the tattoo artist is holding the needle gun over his forearm.

"Okkayyy, 'lil lady," he says, pulling up a stool to allow you to sit beside him. He hands you the gun, and places his hand over yours to help you with the process. "You ready?" he asks. You glance at Azriel, who now has his eyes lightly closed as he lays down on the bed in front of you.

"Are you ready, Azzie?" You say. He nods silently, a small smile playing on his lips. You release a breath as the gun whirrs to life, and the artist guides you to begin pressing into your best friend's skin. Stealing a glance at his face, you find him peacefully laying there, almost sleepy. That would make sense, seeing as you both drank a lot tonight.

After a few minutes of darkening the lines and wiping away the excess liquid, the artist powers down the needle and scoots back on his rolling chair. Your fingers lightly dance over the puffy black lines on his otherwise bare forearm, and he stirs at the sensation.

"Have a look," you say. He opens his eyes and sits up, delight overtaking his features as he sees your work.

"I choose you and me," he says aloud, reading over the ink now drying in his skin. He almost blushes, gazing at the ink and touching it lightly. His eyes meet yours, and in seconds he is hopping up and offerring you the bed. You sit on it, pulling the hem of your shorts up so it's easier to access.

"Heyy..." he starts. "You picked the spot for mine-" You huff.

"I want mine up here," you point to the upper part of your thigh, and he rolls his eyes. He shoots a look to the artist, and shakes his head.

"I've learned to just not argue with this one," he says, and you gasp at him. He laughs, his white teeth shining like stars inside the dim shop. The tattoo artist sighs, powering on the newly replaced tatto gun and handing it to Azriel. You place a hand on your leg, eyes wide.

"You're not gonna help him?" You ask the artist. He only shrugs at you.

"I've seen his work before -- he knows how to do a pretty damn good tattoo." Your eyes narrow toward your best friend, and he only grins down at you.

Sighing, you rest your head back against the cushion of the tattoo bed. "Az, you better not fuck this up-"

You're cut off by his fingers brushing against the skin of your leg, pulling on your shorts to move them slightly. Your breath catches in your throat, now staring wide-eyed down at the man you'd secretly fallen so madly in love with. His messy curls tickled the strips of skin between the hem of your baby tee and the top of your shorts as he stared intently at his work, needle lightly pressing into your skin. His other hand laid flat on your stomach, holding you gently in place.

You couldn't ever get rid of this sight unless someone quite literally ripped it from the archives of your mind.

He glanced up at you, noticing your labored breathing. His soft expression was one he only ever used with you; a stark contrast to the strong, unfazed front he presented to everyone else. You figured he was going to tell you to chill out -- little did he know you weren't focusing on the pain, but rather the striking male on top of you.

"Lay down -- you can't peek 'till I'm done."

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The air was warm as it rolled off the sidra, the salt air so familiar. You'd come down here for some peace; some time away. Since learning of the bond with Lucien, it was like you couldn't escape. You couldn't get away from the constant "Are you okay?"s and "Have you told Azriel?"s and "Do you think you'll accept the bond?"s. It was getting to be too much. No, you weren't okay. No, you did not want to accept the bond.

And fuck no, you did not tell Azriel. You remembered what happened last time when you found out his bond snapped, and you hadn't even seen him in months. There was no point -- it wouldn't change your situation.

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"I made you that strawberry cream cake, you know, your favorite?" Feyre's kind words filled the kitchen as you continued to pour glasses of lemonade, setting down the pitcher to meet her watercolor eyes. You gave her a soft smile.

"Thank you... but whatever for?" Her gaze dropped, fingers fiddling with one another as she looked around nervously. You arched a brow at her.

"Nothing, I just -- I thought you might like it. To celebrate the first day of Summer," she stuttered. You'd never seen her at a loss for words, but before you could think too long about it, Cassian barged into the room, eyes full of delight when he spotted the filled lemonade glasses.

"Ahh," he grabbed one and chugged it, putting it back on the counter after a few gulps as though it was a shot. You giggled, Feyre finding his interruption rather funny as well. He peered at you, sliding the glass over on the counter top.

"Fill 'er up -- Gods, it is so hot outside." He says, fingers fiddling with a small band tying his hair back. You top off his glass, and he takes it again, only sipping this time.

"Are you ladies joining us outside? Or what?" He asks giddily. You swear, if he wasn't a fae bat he would be a golden retriever.

"Absolutely," Feyre nods. He saunters out of the room, and within seconds you spy him by the edge of the Sidra tackling Rhysand into the river with him. They both come up within seconds, laughing and shaking their wet hair. Feyre peers out with you, and your heart catches when you see Azriel not joining in. He is sitting on one of the picnic blankets the group laid out, Elain's head in his lap as he leans back on his hands. She tenses, laughing at something he said. He gives her a smile; one you'd thought only he shared around you.

"I'll meet you outside in just a moment?" Feyre offers. She knew; she knew exactly how you'd felt for Azriel. But, she also knew that he was in some newfound, weird relationship since her sister arrived.

You tried to brush it off. Your best friend had lovers before; most of them only lasted a few weeks anyway, then they were gone. This one would be no different.

Finally making your way down to the river, tray of drinks in your hands, you were greeted by Mor as she helped pass out the drinks. She walked over to Feyre and Cassian; of course, leaving you to head over to Azriel.

You sighed, and walked over to the blanket where he sat. Her annoying laugh rang out again, and you winced. Azriel looked up, finally noting your presence and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. The unmistakable black writing on his forearm still reading "I choose you and me". Your heart swells just a bit.

"Y/N! Did you bring us drinks?" He asks nicely. You smile back, appreciating this side of him never failing to come out around his best friend.

"I just might have..." You say. Elain sits up upon hearing your voice, offerring a kind smile. You pass one glass to Azriel, and hold out another for her.

"Thank you Y/N! You must have known lemonade is my favorite," She takes it from you, beaming and turning to Azriel. He nods in agreement, sipping from his drink.

"Lucky guess." You say, grinding your teeth in a tight smile as you set down the empty tray on the grass. She giggles and continues conversing with Azriel, and you decide to not even try to engage this time.

You stalk over to the towel Mor is currently lounging on, her sunglasses set high on her nose. Your body creates a shadow, and she sits up grumbling.

"Ugh, Y/N, I'm trying to get a tan!" Her eyes finally adjust, seeing that you're stripping off your clothes, only a small emerald green bikini underneath. Her mouth pops open and she gasps, loud enough for everyone to hear. You're kicking off your shoes when she takes her glasses off and gapes at you.

"Girl, I'd let you stand over me any day -- you look good as fuck!" She squeals. You roll your eyes, her loud appraisal catching attention as she continues to compliment you.

"Seriously! Feyre, have you seen Y/N's suit? She is looking like fine wine-" She looks you up and down, and you notice behind her, Feyre has jogged over to where her friend Lucien has just arrived. Feyre turns her attention to you over Morrigan's whooping and hollering, giving you a thumbs up

"Looks good! I told you it would!" She shouts. She turns back to her Autumn court friend, but his eyes are drinking you in as though you are the wine itself. You steal a glance at Azriel, and boy are you glad you did -- he is pissed. He is glaring at Lucien as Elain babbles on, absentmindedly. She doesn't even realize he isn't listening to her anymore. You bend down, coming face to face with your bubbly blonde friend.

"Swim with me?" You say. She scoffs, tossing her sunglasses down and rising. You both walk to the bank of the Sidra, its gleaming water only inviting you in further.

"You know I'd never deny you, but I did want to lay out-" She is cut off by a strangled scream as Cassian yanks her in by the waist, her head reappearing moments later. Breathless, she pants.

"Cassian! Are you kidding?" Him and Rhysand only laugh, you shaking your head and chuckling along with them. You slowly enter the warm water, basking in the last few warm days the year has to offer. Mor wades past you, and makes to get out of the stream.

"Aww what! Where you goin'?" You whine pathetically. She runs her fingers through her soaked locks, huffing.

"I. Am not. Swimming. With those knuckleheads. Any longer." She stomps back over to her towel, and you stick your bottom lip out in feigned sadness.

"Aww, come on, Mor! You're already wet, just get back in and swim for a while!" You say. It isn't long before a splash to your left flings water near you, and you look around for a few moments before something grabs your ankles and drags you under. You come up a few moments later, Azriel resurfacing in front of you and laughing at your drenched complexion.

"I'll play." He says lowly. You shove his shoulder, and Mor waves a hand from her blanket, sunglasses already back on her face.

"Yes, yeah. Let Az play with you."

It isn't long before you're splashing around with your friends, everyone swimming besides Morrigan and Elain. Even Lucien has joined in, the water twirling his fiery locks over his shoulders. Maybe in another life, you'd fall in love with him.

But you're living this one, and you're still in love with your best friend.

"Hey, uhh," Azriel swims close to you, the sunset on the horizon illuminating his tanned skin. You can feel his hands creating water riplets around you to stay afloat, and you gaze at him. "Can we, like, swim over there? Maybe?" He asks, jerking his head toward the rocky alcove a few hundred feet away. Your eyes widen as you try not to think too hard about why he'd want you in there with him instead of his girlfriend; so you glance over to where everyone else is drying off and gathering their items. Elain is staring a hole into the side of your head.

"Sure," you say, timidly. Azriel grabs your hand under the water, his scarred fingers threading through yours with ease. You suck in a breath, and Azriel throws a smile towards Elain.

"We'll be in soon!" He shouts, and she returns the smile, almost a little smugly. She helps her sister collect the items from the grass, and Azriel stars swimming away, pulling you with him.

"Why did we need to come over here?" You ask, out of breath when he finally stops swimming behind a large rock. You can't see your friends anymore. You glance around nervously.

"Well, I had something I needed to talk to you about." He says. "Privately," he adds. Your cheeks heat. Its finally here, the moment has finally come.

"Oh, um. Okay. I think I have something I talk to you about too." You say. His eyebrows raise, and he smiles kindly at you.

"Oh! Alright. Well, why don't you go first then." He offers.

"I don't really... know... how to explain it." You fumble. The breeze blows over the water, pulling you away a bit. Azriel reaches for you, probably to hold you close but his hand grips onto your waist. He pulls a little too hard, and you're flush against his chest. His intense hazel eyes bore into yours, tiny water droplets dripping from the end of his onyx curls. Its silent for a moment, the mixed heavy breathing the only sound other than the nature around you. You gaze up at him, his eyes trailing down from your eyes... to your lips... then down to where your heaving chest rises and falls beneath the water's surface. Your eyes can't escape his full lips, and you snake your hands around his neck, pulling him in so impossibly close and close the gap.

Finally, after all these years, you get to taste those delicious lips on yours. You kiss him, softly, and when he pulls back, he looks at you with sorrow.

"Y/N... I..."

"I don't mind, Azriel. You know I love you; I want this. I would choose this. I choose you and me." Silver lines his eyes and you don't think you've ever seen him get so emotional. You pull him to you once more, kissing with more hunger this time, and he doesn't stop you. His hand scoops under your ass, squeezing and holding you tight, the other one flat against the side of your neck. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone as your fingers curl into his wet locks, when suddenly he rips away from you. He lets go as if he was a bug caught in a zapper, flinging himself away from you like you had electrocuted him. You instantly feel colder without his touch.

"W-what's wrong?" You ask, timidly. He runs a hand through his hair, and rubs his eyes with his palms, sighing.

"What is it, Azriel?" You ask, moving closer. He puts a hand out to stop you, and you begin to feel regret. No, not regret. Fear.

"Don't, Y/N." He says. You eyes close, near slits as you try and keep the sob rising in your throat at bay. He's never taken that tone with you before.

"Don't what? Be honest with you? Azriel, I love you, and-"

"I have a mate, Y/N." He cuts you off. You feel like you've been stabbed in the gut, thrown off a cliff; what was he talking about?

"W-what?" You ask. That sob is barely at bay, tears stinging your eyes as you try to keep from crying. He moves his hands to look at you, and immediately sighs and looks down at the water, hating to do this.

"Yeah... uh, Elain and I-"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You huff a humorless laugh and a single tear slips free. You don't bother brushing it away; you just cross your arms instead. He narrows his eyes at you.

"What is your problem with her?" He asks. The sinking feeling in your chest only intensifies as he defends her. You begin to feel angry, angry your best friend, who you'd die for, would defend another dumb girl who didn't know him like you did. Not even in the slightest.

"What is the problem with me?" You ask. He shoots you a confused look, and you continue. "Am I not quite good enough for you? Is that it? I'm not an Archeron, I'm not High Fae; I'm not officially in the Inner Circle? I don't-" You breathe, gasping for air as tears run down your cheeks now. "I don't look like her? I get it Azriel. I fucking got it. Loud and clear-"

"Shhh, shh shh. Heyy," he swims close, offerring you his hand. You want more than anything to fall into his chest and cry, just cry it all out; but you don't. You won't. He doesn't want you. He never did.

"You know none of that is true-"

"Don't bother." You say sharply. He sighs, dropping his hands in the water.

"Y/N, look I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, okay? You know how important mating bonds are; I just wanted to make sure it was real, and it would work and Feyre would be okay with it-"

"You... you already told. Feyre?" You seethe. His eyes widen, realizing maybe he shouldn't have revealed that information.

"I, uh... yeah. I did. And once she knew, it kind of got out and everyone knew," he mumbles. You clench your hands into fists.

Your favorite cake.

Elain's smug smile.

"Let Az play with you," Mor had said.

They all knew. No one told you. Not even your best friend. They knew you'd be hurt and not a single one of them told you. A small cry reverberates in your chest and you turn away from Azriel.

"Please don't be mad at me, Y/N. You know you're my best friend, you know I'd do anyth-"

"Save it." You say, wading toward the water's edge. "We're done here."

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You hadn't seen him since he accepted his bond with Elain six months ago; you couldn't even bring yourself to sit through the entire ceremony they hosted. It was all too much.

That was the first crushing blow. But then, to find out that not only had he accepted the bond and been happy about it, but now you were bonded to someone you didn't want either?

What a joke. The mating bond was a joke -- it had to be. All these years of believing that bonds were so special... it was all bullshit.

As you sit near the bank, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. You didn't quite care who it was; after all, you were so deep in loathing that you had grown distant from all of your friends over the past few months. It didn't help that the last words you'd hurled at them were unkind, but... maybe it's what they needed to hear. They did keep a huge thing from you, and you haven't even begun to figure out how to move on yet.

Moving on from Azriel sounded like it would be the end for you. You didn't know how you'd ever do it -- it was always him. There never was anyone else for you. You only wanted him.

And now he was honeymooning with his mate. Fucking her. Loving her. Allowing her to know him on a level only you'd ever been on.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks when a whisper pulls you from your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn slowly, the last person you'd expected to see standing behind you. His hair was windblown, his skin tan from the Summer court sun. He had a few light freckles dusting his nose.

Upon seeing your upset state, he slowly approached you, and sat down beside you. Staring out at the water, you continued to let the tears fall, chin resting on your bent knees. His gaze was hot as he stared at you, taking you in fully.

"Y/N... this isn't okay... you're-" his voice cracks. "You're not okay." He whispers the last part, and your eyes meet his. Tears stream down his cheeks, dripping onto the cream colored button-down he's sporting. Typical Summer court fashion, but you should expect that as he did just spend time there.

He grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. You have no choice but to sink in, open sobs emitting from your broken hearted chest. He breaths deeply, resting his chin atop your head. A drop of water lands on your shoulder, a tear. It's from him.

He holds you for a few minutes, allowing you to release all your emotions. He sighs, the sun dipping low alolng the horizon. You finally pull back and look at him. Nothing was going to change about your situation.

Your eyes caught on the black letters still imprinting his arm, fresh tears brimming your eyes.

"I hate seeing you like this," he says, sniffing. "You're my best friend Y/N. You always find the good in every situation, in everyone... that's why everyone loves you so much. You saw the good in me when no one else did." He says, rubbing your shoulder. You train your eyes on the grass below.

"I hate this too. But I love you," you say, not looking to meet his eyes. "If this is what is making you happy, I love that for you." He takes one of your hands in his.

"Y/N, it's just... Gods, this is a mess." He says. You let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah. Even more of a mess now that I have a mate too." His eyes widen, and you look up just in time to see something swimming in those hazel orbs.

"Oh." He says. He drops your hand, but you reach over and place yours on top of where his now rests in his lap.

"The difference is, I would still choose you and me." You say, and he wipes a tear from your cheek. "I would always choose you and me. Because you're my best friend Azriel; and I love you. I don't know how to stop." You say. You lean back, resting your head in the grass as he gets comfortable laying beside you. His fingertips graze over the spot where he'd written on you -- marked you -- years back, reiterating the sentiment he'd etched there.

"And you're mine, too."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Part 2

#acotar smut #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #lucien acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel smut

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 months

Text

Breaking & Entering - (1/2)

Summary: Before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door. It followed her all the way to the House of Wind. And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Or; A slightly angsty telling of how Elain discovered that Lucien sleeps naked

Read on AO3・ Part II

Being a seer was not without its complications.

In fact, Elain would argue that being a seer consisted only of complications. Of muddled thoughts, and twisted, tangled truths that she could spend a lifetime unweaving and still not fully comprehend.

But worst of all was the blurry line she walked between reality and prophecy. One moment, she was sipping her tea at the breakfast table, and the next she was standing in a busy marketplace, uncertain which was the illusion until she was vaulted back into her physical body, blinking as her heart settled and her vision returned.

“Elain?”

Feyre leaned over the table, palms pressed into the dark wood, hovering as close to Elain as the barrier would allow. From the thin line forming between Feyre’s brows, Elain had the impression this was not the first time Feyre had called for her.

“Yes?” Elain said, straightening her back and lifting her teacup as if nothing had happened.

Feyre’s shoulders slackened, and she drew back into her seat with a small sigh of relief. But Elain knew that after the concerned sister, came the curious High Lady. She watched, face still ducked into her teacup, as Feyre pressed her lips together, thinking so loudly she might as well have used her magic to project her thoughts. Not that it mattered, not when her questions were obvious, and already evident in the way those blue-grey eyes searched her face.

Tea sloshed against Elain’s lips, uncontrolled, inelegant. Her hand was shaking. Though the vision had been mild, even pleasant, compared to others, that flash of red hair had unnerved her. The way it always did.

She set the teacup down, ignoring how it rattled against the saucer. How Feyre flinched.

“Lucien’s on his way,” Elain said, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

A knock sounded at the door, cutting off Feyre’s response. Elain patted her lip with the napkin, skin tingling from the too-hot liquid, and stood up from her chair. “Before you answer, would you mind taking me to the House of Wind?”

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

There was an accusation in that question. Subtle, even a little gentle, but an accusation nonetheless. Elain crossed her arms, as if doing so could deflect from her sister’s judgment. She knew what Feyre wanted—for Elain to stay, to make nice with Lucien and ask him about his latest trip to the mortal lands. She wanted Elain to get to know the male she was eternally bonded to so that they might one day find the happiness that Feyre and Rhysand found in each other. Even Nesta seemed to be encouraging it these days.

“He doesn’t need to know I was here,” Elain said. “Besides, he’s come to see you.”

Feyre raised a brow. If there was sharpness in those words, Elain hadn’t meant them. Or maybe she had. She was frustrated that her sisters had already made up their minds about what was best for her, and that despite the agency she craved, she couldn’t even flee to the House of Wind without Feyre’s help.

They stared at each other for a long moment, a clash of stubbornness that was sometimes the only thing that connected them.

“Fine,” Feyre said, coming around the table and reaching out her hand. “But you should try talking to him one of these days, Elain. He’s a good male.”

He was a good male. Elain knew that perfectly well. And before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door.

It followed her all the way to the House of Wind.

And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Elain sat up in bed, clutching her chest. Beneath her clammy skin, she could feel her own heart thundering beneath her fingers. But its golden echo, the one she felt like a string around her rib, plucked day and night by a tireless musician… It had fallen silent.

A dream, she thought. A vision. Any moment now, she’d blink and find herself sitting in the library, wondering at the Cauldron’s strange meaning. But as she laid on her back and watched a dark cloud slowly creep across the starry sky, she felt the seconds prying for her attention with growing urgency. And suddenly she couldn’t breath as a terrible, gnawing panic seized her throat. The next thing she knew, she was rushing through the corridors of the House of Wind, hair and nightgown flowing behind her.

He answered the door on the first knock. She knew he wouldn’t be sleeping, even at this hour.

“Elain?” Azriel asked, hazel eyes sweeping over her, assessing if her panic was the result of any injury on her person. “What’s wrong?”

Ordinarily, she might have taken the time to be embarrassed by her state of undress. But all she could hear was the silence in her mind. The vast, roaring emptiness that was usually occupied by life and light.

Elain took a moment to compose herself, trying to swallow past the sickening feeling in her gut, but the words all escaped in a rush regardless of her efforts. “Can you take me down?”

“What?”

“Downstairs,” she clarified. “To the Rainbow.”

His gaze darted to the ground. To her bare feet. “Dressed like that?”

“Please,” was all she said.

Azriel didn’t press any further. He simply led her to the nearest balcony and did precisely as she asked, hesitating only once they landed in the empty marketplace, and she shivered when he set her down on the cobblestone. He removed his jacket, and the evening was cold enough that Elain didn’t object when he placed it over her shoulders.

But she did shake her head as he said, “Whatever you’re doing, let me come with you. To make sure you’re safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, pulling the jacket closer when she noticed the way his eyes wandered to her neckline. Maybe he was concerned by the attention her attire would attract, a fear she might have shared if Lucien’s apartment wasn’t just across the street. And she had a feeling that regardless of what she said to Azriel, he’d be lingering to ensure nothing happened to her.

“I’ll stay here, then” Azriel said. “So that I can bring you back up when you’re ready.”

Sensing that was the most she could convince Azriel to stay out of it, and not wanting to waste any more time arguing, Elain nodded and dashed off toward Lucien’s apartment. A place she’d never visited before, though she’d seen it in enough visions to recognize the stepping stones of the front garden as if she’d been the one to arrange them.

Of all the times she’d thought about coming here, of bracing her hand around the iron knocker and letting fall to the front door, she’d never imagined it would be the middle of the night. And that the knocker would bounce once, twice, until it vibrated into stillness. No shuffle on the other side, no footsteps. No answer at all.

In all her imaginings, she’d certainly never thought that she would need to sneak into his back garden and mount the trellis to his balcony, battling against the climbing roses that snagged at her dressing gown. She hissed as more than a few scraped against her legs, as if the garden were fighting back against its intruder.

“Lucien?” She called as she came level with his balcony. Leaning over, she could see no light in his room, and it occurred to her that she could be reading too much into the quiet. He could just be sleeping, and maybe his heartbeat quieted when he slept and she’d simply never noticed. This was her last chance to turn away without looking like a lunatic.

Lucien? She tried, searching internally for the kernel of light that lived inside her, warm and lovely and achingly absent. There was no response. No stirrings at all on the other side of their muted bond. She grasped, helplessly, for something to pull, for the golden thread he’d once tugged all those years ago. When she found nothing, she pulled herself onto his balcony and yanked on the handle to his bedroom.

Locked.

Through the glass, she could see his red hair against the pillows. His face was turned toward her, eyes shut, expression so soft and unguarded she barely recognized him. Elain stilled for a minute, the ache in her chest growing tenfold as she admired the sight of Lucien polished in moonlight.

She rapped her knuckles against the glass. First, with all of the bashfulness of someone who expected his eyes to snap open, where she would need to explain what she was doing on his balcony, undressed and bloodied. Then, with increasing urgency as his eyes remained shut, oblivious to her panicked fists slamming against the glass door not a meter away.

If she’d let Azriel come with, he would have known what to do. And perhaps he would have come up with a far less destructive solution than Elain, who turned to examine the items Lucien kept on his balcony and found a small potted plant that she immediately hurled towards the door. Any faerie would have woken to the sound of the shattering glass. Even one having a particularly nice dream.

His neighbors might even be awake now, coming to their windows to watch Elain push her arm through the jagged hole and unlock the door from the inside. Maybe tomorrow there’d be news articles about Velaris’s new, sloppy midnight burglar. As long as tomorrow’s news was about her, and not the deceased son of Autumn, she didn’t care.

She didn’t care even as the glass cut into her feet, not as Lucien remained unresponsive to it all. Unaware of his intruder. Unaware that his mate was bleeding and panicked and desperate. It was all wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

“Lucien?” She called, his name strangled in her throat.

In her mortal life, she might have cared about dripping blood onto his sheets, or how she was climbing into a male’s bed in only her night gown. But now she was High Fae and this was her mate—her mate. And all that mattered was getting to him.

Elain cupped his face, nearly sobbing when she felt that it was warm to the touch. Warm. Not claimed by death—not yet. And his lips were parted, expelling air with every rise and fall of his chest. Alive, alive, alive.

Despite the evidence, when Elain pressed her fingers to the pulsepoint on his neck, she was surprised to find a heartbeat as familiar as her own. Steady, healthy, yet still absent from where it once resided in her mind. And he still wasn't awake.

Was it magic? Some kind of spell, or poison? Without thinking, she ripped the bedcovers from his body to see if there was some ailment she was missing. A bite wound, or an arrow puncture, or…. Lucien’s uninjured, perfectly healthy, and obscenely muscular naked body.

Elain yelped, immediately covering him back up. “I’m so sorry,” she said, though he couldn’t hear and was unaware of the violation she’d just committed.

It was then that her eyes wandered toward his bedside table, bearing all the things she would expect from Lucien: a pile of books with loose papers atop them, a leatherbound journal, a dagger with a jeweled hilt, and… a small, empty vial labeled sleeping tonic.

She recalled the vision she’d had that morning, of Lucien navigating his way through the busy marketplace. How he’d paused before a tonic shop, intrigued by their wares. She hadn’t thought anything of it, besides that it meant Lucien had returned to the city. And now she examined the glass shards littering his bedroom floor, the soil spilling out of the broken plant pot, the blood on the floor, the sheets—oh god, it was on his face, too.

“Elain?”

She turned her head, finding Azriel standing on the balcony, looking far more concerned for the state she was in than the unconscious male beneath her.

“Is everything okay?” he prompted.

What did she even say, to answer for all of the reckless, impulsive things she’d done this evening?

All she could do was point to the vial and croak, “The tonic he bought at the shop… will it wear off?”

Azriel squinted through the glass to read the label, then huffed a laugh under his breath, as if he was familiar. “Those tonics will leave you all but dead to the world. The last time I took one, I woke up with a mustache painted on my face.”

That certainly sounded like something his friends would do. Elain couldn’t bring herself to laugh. “So he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be fine. I can’t say the same for his balcony door, though.”

Elain’s cheeks burned. “Will you take me back? And forget this ever happened?”

The shadowsinger watched her carefully. “Of course. It can be our secret.”

Azriel kept a lot of those. She trusted he would keep this one, at least from Lucien, but even so she couldn’t find it in herself to meet his eyes as he stepped into Lucien’s apartment and lifted Elain from her mate’s bed. They flew back to the house in silence, the stinging in her feet becoming more and more intrusive as her adrenaline wore off.

“Let me take you to the infirmary,” he said once they landed on one of the many verandas.

“No.”

“Elain—”

“No.” She didn’t mean to snap. In truth, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d use that tone with anyone. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Azriel was only trying to help. That he’d been indulging her foolish impulses all evening, expecting nothing in return. “Just take me back to my room, please. I can deal with it.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, but he did as she asked.

Only once he left, and she heard his door shut down the hall, did she release her hold on the tears that she’d been repressing from the moment she realized Lucien was okay. Picking the leftover pieces of glass from her feet was preferable to anguishing over the fool she made of herself tonight, though she managed to do both.

What had gotten into her? She’d always felt a measure of the instincts that came with the bond. The pull, the wanting, the need to claim and protect. But they had always been passive, easily brushed aside. What she’d felt tonight had gripped her with such violence that she’d been blinded to everything else, any sense of reason or reservation. What would Lucien think when he woke in the morning and saw that someone had broken into his home? And how would she be able to look him in the eyes, now that his naked form was imprinted in her mind, lingering no matter how she tried to banish it. It was wrong. It was stolen. It was… making the ache feel raw again.

Worst of all, despite Azriel’s assurance that Lucien was unharmed by the tonic, she found she couldn’t go to sleep while his side of the bond remained a torment of nothingness. She turned over restlessly throughout the night, replaying it all in her head, torturing herself with the anxious thought that maybe Azriel was wrong. Maybe the tonic wouldn’t wear off, and her mate was in danger. She should have stayed, at least until she knew he was okay.

Lucien would have stayed.

That thought, more than anything, kept her awake. Kept her debating all night whether she should face the ten thousand steps just to break into his house again. It was only the cuts on her feet, and her own shame at explaining to Lucien how much she overreacted, that kept her in bed, turning restlessly.

It wasn't until the sun came up that the familiar metronome of his heartbeat returned.

And by the relief of its steady, soothing rhythm, Elain was finally able to fall asleep.

#Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fanfiction #Maybe I can be pursuaded to write a second chapter #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

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