#and she's doing everything and more with that knowledge and lording it over him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 month

Text

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property.

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate.

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried.

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin

(users in bold could not be tagged)

665 notes · View notes

stormhearty · 17 days

Text

✨ pairings: eris x reader

🔮 preview: (Y/N) Vanserra was cunning, ambitious, and confident, all wrapped in a beauty that could rival Lady Autumn’s. For forty-nine years, she had been hidden away, in Autumn Court, much like a diamond, waiting for the day she could come out and shine. And so, when the threat of a Death-God loomed over Prythian and Beron slowly became a concern, (Y/N) uses her beauty and intelligence for a ploy bigger than herself — one that included sitting her husband down on the Autumn throne, Eris Vanserra.

📣 trigger warnings: Inner Circle bashing (I love the IC guys, but we’re in Autumn Court territory now)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 5.6k+

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: I thank my lovely nonnie from here for suggesting a Roxana-inspired reader from the manwha, How to Protect the Heroine’s Older Brother! I loved Roxana as a character and I found it very difficult (as many of you know, whom I’ve talked to about this story) to write a character who is cunning and intelligent as my character reference. This series was a beast to write (and I am still writing the other parts of it, so please do be patient) — I wanted it to stay canon as much as possible, but also give a story that would reveal the mysterious nature of Autumn Court. Please do give feedback about the first part of this series! I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts for the next part!

And I thank both @prythianpages & @thesunloveschips for their amazing help with this first part (I apologize to them profusely at times for bothering them)

“Be my eyes, be my ears. Be the wallflower that lurks in the breeze. Be the viper that stings all my enemies. We shall become one, to conquer our shared destiny.”

The burn of the bargain tattoo seared onto your skin, a ring of fire that surrounded your left ring finger. It took you a moment to look at it, admiring the dark ink that stained your skin before much larger hands enveloped yours. Looking up, you stared at familiar amber hues as he slipped the golden band on that finger, hiding the tattoo. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles his smirk widening slightly.

“You will be my secret, (Y/N)… My weapon within the walls of Autumn Court…”

“Do you know who she is, Az?” his High Lord’s voice echoed in his head as hazel eyes focused on the female that seemed to have garnered many lingering gazes.

“I unfortunately do not, Rhys… My shadows do not whisper anything about her. I—-” there was hesitancy in his words, “I didn’t even know she existed.”

The Spymaster was stumped, to say the least.

In his centuries of being Night Court’s Spymaster, wielding shadows to his very will, Azriel had every confidence that he knew everything that happened in Prythian. Nothing was able to pass him nor his shadows — he knew all the intel, the gossip. He knew everything that might be deemed a threat to his court and used that knowledge to his advantage.

But it seemed like something slipped, because there was something… more like someone, that passed his shadows; and that was you who was on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir.

Azriel felt like he should have known you, should have heard the whisper of your existence at least. You were accompanying the Autumn Heir to Winter Solstice, for Mother’s sake! How could someone as vital as you slip passed his shadows.

He waited, waited for those slivers of darkness to whisper something… anything about you. Even just your name, the Spymaster would have been pleased to know.

But nothing.

His shadows lazily moved underneath him, not a care in the world about the female that seemed to have warped his mind in chaos.

You had become an enigma to the Spymaster.

And it was something he would go to the ends of the world to unravel.

He continued silently observing you from his position next to his High Lord on the dias, watching as you pressed yourself close to the Heir side, your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, leading you through the throughs of people that packed themselves into the grand ballroom. He watched as your rouge dress, a stark contrast to the endless sea of black and blue, swayed around you — like a fire that danced in the darkness of the night. Even Eris stood out in his regality in a similar shade of rouge, Autumn Court colors seeping out from every inch of him.

The two of you maneuvered through the halls like flames blazing through the darkness — and Azriel was worried that you would burn his home down.

And when he watched you lean up to the Heir, whispering something into his ear before a boisterous laugh escaped the Autumn Heir, he sent his shadows across the floor, motioning them to listen in — and all the Spymaster hoped was to get a tidbit of anything relating to you; even just the sound of your voice would have been better than nothing.

However, hazel hues watched as his shadows retreated quickly as they had flocked. And it was only then did Azriel had seen it.

A barrier.

One that was so powerful and so thick that his shadows couldn’t even penetrate. He watched as the tendrils of darkness slithered away, retreating back to their master, hearing their cries of pain as they had attempted to break through the barrier.

That was the reason no one knew of your existence — why Azriel never heard of you, why his shadows never picked up your name.

You were a secret — Autumn Court’s well-kept secret.

The shimmer of the barrier caught the corner of your eye, watching it reflect different colors under the dim lighting. You raised a brow, eyes darting around before noticing the lonesome shadow retreating back to its master. You watched as that lonesome shadow slither through the crowd, slithering back to the Spymaster’s side.

“Did that bastard just —-”

You fought back a chuckle, gently squeezing Eris’ forearm — a silent confirmation about the attempted attack from the Night Court Spymaster. You felt him stiffen underneath your touch and you didn’t need to look to know that the Heir was pissed.

Beneath his mask of well-practiced composure, you felt his body thrum with rage and fire — it swirled and bubbled underneath his skin, radiating up to your palm that rested in the crook of his elbow.

Eris had always been quite overprotective over you, thus the millennial old barrier that had kept your existence a secret from all of Prythian — including from the nosy Spymaster of Night Court.

You were not surprised by the Shadowsinger’s actions — curiosity killed the cat, as many would say. And who wouldn’t be curious about you, the female that hung on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir? You had expected something similar to happen, but it seemed that the Spymaster sending his shadows to investigate you did not sit well with Eris.

No one dared to attack you while in his presence.

“Eris…”

The whisper of his name from your lips paused the rage that bubbled from the Heir — amber hues glancing your way. A delicate smile tugged onto your features, another melodic hum escaping your lips as you reached up and caressed his forearm — a gesture that showed you were perfectly unharmed — the barrier had done its job, keeping you safe. It was a gesture that always seemed to calm Eris down — especially when it came to your safety, a silent confirmation you were safe. You felt that bubble of rage and fire simmer, the Heir calming underneath your touch, and felt his hand slip on top of your own, his thumb gently caressing the gold band on your ring finger— a tall tell sign that he was holding himself back from confronting the Spymaster.

“Ah, Eris!”

Annoyance rolled off from the calm of Eris’ demeanor and you fought all urge to tease the male as you watched from the corner of your eye Keir making his way to the two of you, behind him his daughters in tow.

With a well-practiced smile, Eris gave a bow of his head towards the Steward, you mimicking his actions as surprise tugged on the Steward’s features, his steps paused to a halt at the sight of you at Eris’ side.

“Ah, Keir, pleasure to see you again. I thank you for inviting me to such festivities…” Eris greeted the male with a light smirk tugged onto his features — the normal look of arrogance from the Autumn Heir.

Keir had stiffened at the sound of his name, without any lordship from the Heir, as he bit back a reply with a strained smile, “Of course, Lord Eris. We are indeed partners… I had wanted to introduce you to my daughters—-” the male gestured to his side as his daughters gave a bow, their cheeks pink with a light rose color, evident even in the dim lighting.

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Eris to watch that smile twitch at the corner of his lips — the annoyance very evident despite his mask of pleasantry.

“Unfortunately…” The Autumn Heir had cut off the Steward, giving the ladies a bow of his head. Eris, no matter what was taught to be a gentleman, especially to females. His mother taught him that. “I do not need a partner tonight for the dance… As you can see, I do have a lovely lady on my arm, and it would be such a shame to ignore her presence… don’t you think, Keir?”

A pleased smile tugged at the edge of your lips at the quip — not only did the Steward ignore greeting you, he had ignored the fact that you… without needing to be announced, would be the one accompanying the Heir for the evening’s festivities. And yet, there he was attempting to set up partnership with one of his daughters.

Keir’s eyes shifted from the Heir to you, his hues shaking as he looked at you.

“My apologizes… my lady, I was not informed that the Autumn Heir would be bringing a partner with him tonight—-”

“—-She has been with me the whole night, Keir… and she has not stepped away from my side. I would think, with your… keen eyesight, it would make it clear that I did not need a partner tonight.”

“—- Ah, yes… I apologize…” the stutter was evident in his tone as he quietly shooed away his daughters, watching longing gazes at the Eris before moving through the crowd. Keir straightened up and gave you a formal smile, before clearing his throat, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady —- before the festivities start…” What a quick change of subject, “My High Lord would like to speak to you…. if you do not mind following me…”

And with that the Steward turned around, his cape bellowing behind him as he maneuvered his way through the crowd… towards the dias where the Inner Circle had perched themselves for the night.

You watched as Eris rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, while you let out an airy laugh, bracing yourself on his arm as you leaned up, your breath against his chin, “Tired of being the most eligible bachelor, Autumn Heir?” you teased him.

It had always amused you on how many marriage proposals Eris had throughout the time you were together, and how many he had thrown those letters into the hearth of your shared bedroom at Autumn Court. You had always teased him about it, much to his own dismay after being with you for several millennials — you always found something to tease him about.

Eris raised a brow, turning his head so that your breaths intermingled, “I had not been a bachelor for centuries, my butterfly… It pains me to pretend that I am every time I step outside Autumn Court.”

You gazed up at him, staring in those amber hues through your lush lashes, “Well… tonight we’ll make that clear, once and for all, won’t we?”

A wide smirk tugged onto his lips, as he let out a satisfied sound before straightening up and guiding you through the crowd, steps behind the Steward to the dias. The two of you were a perfect picture of Lord and Lady, graceful and regal in every way.

Pull… pull… pull…

Eyes snapped towards the dias, your body going ridged for a few moments as you felt the familiar magnetic tug — the call of the blade. Eris paused in mid-step, feeling you go still, his head snapping towards you as eyes betrayed his indifferent expression — worry pooling at its depths. No words needed to be communicated between the two of you, you had known each other for centuries… you were honed into each other’s emotions, habits, gestures… you two could read each other so easily, despite the mask you have learned to put on for centuries.

Your eyes shifted from each member of the Inner Circle, trying to find where the magic pull was coming from, landing on the velvet box that was in the lithe hands of a familiar fae — the eldest Made Archeron sister, Nesta. You felt your magic flicker underneath your skin, answering the pull from that velvet box. You knew that the blade was in that box — the whole reason why you had decided to accompany Eris to the Winter Solstice, stepping out of Autumn Court into the wider world of Prythian, risking your identity, and exposing your person to the Night Court. That box, that blade was your sole reason.

Regaining your composure, you pressed yourself against Eris’ arm, placing your hand on top of his own as you silently motioned him to continue moving forward. The Autumn Heir hesitated, but when he glanced into your eyes and saw the resolution in them, he couldn’t argue. He gently squeezed your hand and started to move forward again before leaning down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head to whisper, “Did you find it? The blade?”

You glanced up at him and just gave him a light smirk, gently squeezing his hand. Another laugh escaped him, drawing attention towards the two before he pressed another kiss on your cheek, “You are magnificent, my butterfly…”

The Autumn wind blew a chilled breeze through the large windows of the Forest House. The sky was still in orange, red, and yellow hues as the moon started to peak over the horizon — the seasonal courts never saw true nightfall, the skies still glittering with their court colors. It had just grown dark enough for sleep to fall on its inhabitants.

Slipping onto the large balcony of your shared bedroom, you pressed your hands against the cool marble railing as you watched a monarch butterfly flutter down from the skies. Magic wrapped its fragile wings as you allowed it to gently perch on your left eye, a sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes — allowing its magic to seep into you. Visions passed behind your eyes, your all-seeing gaze shifting from Autumn Court, zipping through the seasonal courts and into the depths of one particular solar court — Night Court.

A rusty hammer struck metal, sparks of light flying into the air as the loud ring echoed in your ears. You watched delicate, yet calloused fingers grip the hilt of a forged blade — a power from those very hands seeping into the metal, one that mimicked the ancient Cauldron, which was lost. The blade breathed fire, one so similar to your own that you felt it pulse, no… push against steel — calling out to you, as if it knew you were waiting, watching from afar.

Shifting your gaze from the mysterious Made blade, your eyes wandered to those fingers, traveling up their arm to their features — the eldest Made Archeron sister. You had heard of the eldest sister of the High Lady of Night, once a human, doused in Cauldron power that made her into fae. Her powers were unknown to all, and yet — here she was, creating a weapon from her unknown powers.

“It looks like she isn’t quite as lovely as the winds have whispered…” you murmured, mirth in your tone as you continued to watch the vision unfold before your eyes.

“Who isn’t as lovely?”

Arms wrapped around your middle, large sturdy hands pressing you against a much sturdier front. Another sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, breaking the connection of magic as you watched the butterfly disappear in a waft of red and orange mist. Your hand raised, swirling the colors in the air before it dissipated. Twisting your neck, you glanced up at the Autumn Heir, his features illuminated by the colorful autumn sky.

You had always thought he looked ethereal.

His complexion glowed something dark that always stirred something inside of you. How his auburn hair beautifully framed his chiseled features and how his amber hues glowed — his innate fire burning through those irises.

Those amber eyes caught your own, his brow raising as his question was left in the air. A chuckle was pulled out of you at his look, “The eldest Made Archeron…”

Eris’ brows scrunched in confusion, as your comment did little to answer his question. He knew that there was much more hidden behind your simple words about the Made fae, much more than you were willing to tell him without him prodding you more. You lifted a hand to gently smooth Eris’ brows, a feeble attempt at a distraction — for both you and him.

“What did your butterflies show you, (Y/N)?”

Eris was able to read you so easily, no matter how many walls you had put up, the Autumn Heir was able to see right through them. He had learned how to read you for centuries, ever since the two of you were children — ever since that fateful day.

You felt him grasp your hand, tugging it away from his face, giving your palm a caress, causing a sigh to escape your lips.

“She forged a blade that breathed fire, one similar to our own… I do not know the purpose of said blade, but I am quite sure it has to do with that bloody bargain you made with that High Lord…”

It was no secret to Eris that you had despised that bargain between the High Lord of Night — a bargain to help him claim the Autumn throne from his father. You understood that it was under stressful circumstances — the looming doom of war with Hybern, needing allies during the war. However, you had known that Eris didn’t need that bargain, not with anyone within the Forest House walls, especially not with pesky Night Court bats — not when he had you to help with the coup within Autumn wards.

You needed no help from overgrown bats with what you had promised Eris all those millennials ago.

“(Y/N)…” he called your name, pulling you from your thoughts. Eris held your waist and turned you in his arms, pushing you against that marble railing, forcing you to look up at him.

Raising a brow, you tilted your head up at him.

“If they made a blade for us… then we’ll use it — take advantage of it,” he asserted, “Let’s play into their little game for now. Make them think they’re on higher ground, that they have control — but when in reality, we’ve always known. And you never know…” A smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned down, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks, “That blade might be useful for our plan…”

A light, airy chuckle escaped your lips, “You’re asking me, Eris… out of all things… to act dumb in front of those bats?” amusement laced in your tone.

He chuckled as well, pressing his lips against your cheek, “I’m asking you, my butterfly… is to act dumb with me. We do better everything together, right?”

You hummed, eyes fluttering close, your lashes brushing against his cheeks. Your arms slid up his more muscular ones, hidden beneath his sleeping tunic, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him, “Then that means, Autumn Heir… you will have to bring me to that Winter Solstice ball if you want me to act with you.”

Eris froze underneath your touch at the mention of Winter Solstice. He had mentioned it a few times to you in the past several weeks — especially when Keir kept sending secret correspondence, begging him to join the festivities. The correspondences had annoyed Eris completely, any chance the Heir had was to verbalize his annoyance to you about it — and you had been very amused to hear it each time. You were to let him go on his own to the Court of Nightmares — it was something you didn’t need to be a part of. You could remain in Autumn, continue to secretly monitor his father and brothers, gain followers, and be the wallflower that you have always acted as.

But, with this newfound information and the idea of the Night Court using the bargain against Eris, you knew you couldn’t just be passive with the invitation.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at Eris who had a conflicting look — you knew why he had been so hesitant.

You had never stepped outside of Autumn Court — no one knew of your existence outside of the Court. Despite being in Autumn Court for millennials, Prythian didn't know, the other Courts didn’t know of you. And yet, you were willing to sacrifice your identity, your role in his bigger plan to gain something as simple as a blade that a Cauldron Made Fae made.

Eris didn’t like the idea, it didn’t sit well in his thoughts.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin there, “You will get wrinkles at this point, Eris…” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the skin there before catching his gaze, “I have done everything I can here, Eris…” your words were cryptic, you knew Eris would understand — you couldn’t risk it, not when the walls, trees, the winds in Autumn would listen and give away your plan.

“… I have asked you to use me, Eris. All those millennials ago, on that day… so use me. Make me the weapon I made myself into. I can't help you now if I'm in Autumn —-”

Sure, you had been the one to limit your influence solely on Autumn Court, but if Prythian called, then you are willing to step into the larger world.

Your eyes showed your determination, your willingness to devote your entirety to him as you've done for years.

A reluctant sigh escaped his lips as he forcibly pressed his lips on your forehead, “Alright. I will bring you… but you must remain by my side the whole night. No one will rip you away from me..”

An amused chuckle escaped your chest, leaning up to press your lips against his pulse, “So overprotective, Autumn Heir. It sounds like you're too fond of me…”

You felt Eris shake his head at your teasing, tugging you closer before maneuvering you back into your shared room for the night.

The bellow of Keir’s introduction pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the older male give a sweeping bow — overdramatic and with flair — his words of congratulations echoing throughout the large ballroom, the citizens echoing the same sentiments. As the elder male stepped aside, you stepped up along with the Autumn Heir, giving an elegant curtsy, while Eris gave a regal bow at his waist.

“And allow me to extend our congratulations, High Lady of Night, on behalf of my father and the entirety of Autumn Court…” Eris bellowed, his voice of regality, “A Fae child being conceived, what a miraculous announcement to give during Winter Solstice…”

You drowned out the conversation between Eris and the High Lord, barely focusing on the pageantry between them. It was rare for you to be so out of focus on the situation. Normally, you were in tune with your surroundings, focused on the now; however, all you and your magic could focus on was the call of the blade that thrummed inside that velvet box. You watched as lithe fingers grip the box tighter, and your eyes shifted to the eldest Archeron sister

“—- Before you go, Eris…” your delicate ears perked up, eyes shifting back to the High Lord who waved his hand allowing a dark wind to carry that velvet box through the air, handing it into Eris’ awaiting hand, “I offer you a gift, a solstice gift. A friendly token… between a High Lord to a future High Lord…”

Eris’ gripped the box tight in his large hand as you felt the muscles underneath regal clothes grow taunt.

A quip, from the High Lord. A disguised reminder of the bargain between the two of them.

Gently squeezing Eris’ forearm, you urged him to open the box, to ignore the jab from the older male. You felt those muscles relax underneath your squeeze, his mask of indifference returning onto his features as he opened the velvet box.

Inside that box, laid on plush pillows, was an ornate dagger — it was roughly the size of the Heir’s forearm, its handle weaved from iron as if it was cloth, an intricate design of wood and fire etched onto the metal.

One that was similar to the vision that you had seen weeks ago.

Eris picked up the blade by its serpentine handle, raising it, and watched the silver and jewels shine in the dim lighting. It was a beautiful blade — much more than you had seen in that vision. From the corner of your eye, the two of you locked gazes a light smirk tugging on his lips before the air around him flickers.

Eris’ magic throbbed in the air, as you watched flames appear around the blade — surprised screams echoed around you, as all eyes were on the pair of you — the center of attention. Eyes glanced at the Inner Circle, watching the guard dogs step in front of their masters to protect them, your keen gaze watching how the Captain pulled the eldest sister in his arms. A curious brow raised before you gazed back at Eris as he poured his power into that blade, disappearing into the silver in a flash of bright light.

A groan escaped the Autumn Heir, his head tilting back, a long breath escaping grinning lips. It took a moment’s breath before he regained his composure, rolling his shoulders back before his gaze returned to the blade, turning the blade in his hand as the metal changed, the color from a simple silver to a dark black — an obsidian color that swallowed up the light. A mixture of auburn and saffron tinted the onyx-colored blade, changing the way the light hit it — a blade mimicked a dark fire, swirling underneath the dim light.

Eris flipped the blade, holding it by the blade as he turned his body, facing you and staring at you with those brightly colored hues — flame and light within those irises — handling the blade to you, a nudge of his chin, gesturing you to take the blade.

A light chuckle escaped your lips, fighting the urge for your knees to buckle at the look on the Heir’s features — it was an alluring look on him, the power that raged in his eyes, in his veins — as your gaze shifted down the column of his throat and followed the patterns of his auburn suit to the blade in his hand. With lithe fingers, you grasped the hilt and you felt a shiver run up your spine — the mix of Eris’ power along with the power that already surged through the metal, Nesta’s power — no… the Cauldron’s power — was intoxicating. The call and pull of the magic that pulsed in the blade was strong and you felt your own magic answer the call, causing you to tilt your head slightly as you stared down at the blade, your magic pulsing underneath your skin.

What a dangerous weapon… You thought as you shifted slightly out of Eris’ hold to move the slit on your skirt, where an empty sheath was strapped onto your leg, sliding the blade into its new home — a perfect fit.

“I had been meaning to ask…” The High Lord’s voice reached your delicate ears as you glanced up, fingers trailing up your thigh before pressing yourself close to the Autumn Heir again.

“Who are you?”

Eris gently squeezed your waist, as you stepped out of his hold and you gave a sweeping curtsy, one as dramatic as Kier’s earlier.

“Late introductions, I apologize, High Lord of Night…” your tone had mirth and sarcasm tied underneath a layer of elegance and regality, “My name is (Y/N)… (Y/N) Vanserra.”

You glanced up at the High Lord through your lashes, watching his façade of arrogance and boredom shift into surprise — his face showing his thoughts:

Vanserra? Beron does not have any daughters.

Nor did he take up a second wife.

Vanserra? On the arm of the Autumn Heir…

Bright violet hues glanced between you and the Autumn Heir that stood behind you, before locking onto your gaze — your colored hues staring into violet hues. In defiance, you tilted your head up, as you straightened from your curtsy.

And that’s when you felt it — those tendrils of his powers creep near your mind, you couldn’t help but frown, your body stiffening, your hand gripping your gown tighter.

In your entire lifespan, you have never encountered a Daemati — especially one as strong as the High Lord; you had thought that the barrier would protect you from such intrusion of your mind, but it seemed, even that was futile against the power of a High Lord Daemanti.

Not breaking your eye connection with the High Lord, your eyes glowed an eerie ruby hue as you focused on that tether, that connection that he forged between your minds, to those coils of darkness that invaded your mind.

How. Dare. He.

And with a flick of your wrist, your mind grew walls of flame, surrounded by fire hounds who growled and attacked those shadows — successfully pushing him out of your mind. You heard a faint yell from the High Lord, and you saw his hands sear with flames, his hands combusting as he frantically tried to pat it down on his leathers. However, the feeling of lightheadedness started to cloud your mind, and you teetered on your heels before you felt Eris’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. Eyes pinched close, panting, fighting off the heaviness you felt throughout your body.

It had been simple enough, you had thought, to push the High Lord’s power from your mind — but it seemed you had used too much power, in such a quick second that your delicate stature was giving up. Your mind grew hazy, spots of darkness appeared in your vision and you fought every urge to just pass out right there that you barely noticed the commotion that surrounded you.

Feeling Eris’ grip on you tighten as you heard him growl, “Did you just try to get into my wife’s head, Rhysand?! How fucking dare you!”

That had fully ticked off the Autumn Heir. Not only did the Spymaster attempt to attack you from afar, but now the High Lord tried to invade your mind. Two attempts at your life were too much for one night for Eris — and he threw his well-practiced self-control out the window.

Shrieks from the onlookers reached your ears as you peeked an eye open, noticing a bright light that illuminated the dark room. Heat radiated onto your skin, feeling Eris bring you closer to him, protecting you from the ring of fire that surrounded the both of you, separating the two of you from the Inner Circle. Blinking the haziness from your mind, you watched through the flames as the General and Shadowsinger stood in front of the High Lord and Lady, weapons drawn against the two of you.

“Eris…” you breathed out, grasping his Autumn colored suit, “Calm down…”

His head whipped towards you, that fiery gaze staring down at you, “But he tried to invade your mind, (Y/N)…”

A confirmed hum escaped your throat, straightening yourself in his hold, “I know… But I got him out. That’s all that mattered… And don’t blame the barrier,” you panted, blinking away the spots at the corner of your eyes, “His power is immune to it I guess…”

You stared up at him, your scarlet hues dimming back to your normal colored ones. Amber hues stared into them, assessing your condition, hesitation marred his features.

“Bring down the flames, Eris….” you softly commanded him.

His eyes flickered between you and the Inner Circle before he followed that command, the ring of fire flickering until it had gone out. You did not bother to appear composed — you could appear fragile — play into the heartstrings of the citizens of Hewn City.

The High Lord of Night Court attempted to invade the mind of Autumn Court Heir’s wife.

Word would spread throughout all of Prythian — sympathy and pity would be whispered your way while scrutinizing words would be thrown towards the High Lord.

Even if you despise showing such vulnerability to anyone let alone the Inner Circle, you can use it to your advantage.

You pressed yourself closer to Eris, playing the soft wife that just got attacked by a High Lord. Eris’ arms wrapped around you, as he bared his teeth against the Inner Circle.

“You attempt to attack my wife in your Court, Rhysand, and yet you have your dogs try to protect you? We have not laid a finger against you nor your Court, and you have weapons drawn against us,” anger vibrated in Eris’ tone. He knew how to play your games, he knew exactly how to play them with you — and yet the anger, the fury that lurked in his features were genuine, “You have no damn right to try to lurk in our heads, even if you are a High Lord.”

The General and the Spymaster shifted in their stance, their eyes foggy before stepping aside to reveal Rhysand, cradling his now scarred hands — that was what he got for trying to attack you in front of his people.

“…I…”

“I do not accept your apology if you ever were to have one, High Lord…” surprise tugging onto his features at your declaration, “Myself and my husband arrived on Night Court soil as guests, and yet we are treated as enemies. I have done nothing to you to cause you to try to invade my mind.”

Whispers surrounded you, words of ill-intent for their High Lord reaching your sensitive ears.

She’s right. They have done nothing to them, and yet he tried to hurt her.

The Autumn Heir had every right to act the way he did. It was to protect his wife from Rhysand.

I never did like him… He has trapped us here in the Mountain while he and his people live in Valeris.

He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He says that he welcomes all, but he hurts others as he sees fit.

You fought back a smirk, staring at the High Lord as his features flickered — his mind racing on trying how to turn the situation back to his favor. But you knew, both of you knew, it was too late for him to do anything.

Things have turned in your favor, much like you had hoped.

“I have no need to stay for the festivities any longer, Rhysand. You have attacked my wife twice in one night, your Shadowsinger earlier tonight and now you. I do not feel safe within the walls of your Court and I do not feel safe for my wife’s safety either…”

With a growl escaping his throat, he gently maneuvered you into his arms, lifting you bridal style, turning on his heels as he stepped out of the Court of Nightmares, the crowd parting to make way for him as flames surrounded the both of you. You felt him pause mid-step, and you glanced up at him with a raise of your brow. Eris looked down at you, his face contemplating for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, back at Rhysand.

“—-And the bargain between us is over High Lord… Especially after tonight. No one dares to hurt my wife in my presence.”

The Autumn Heir winnowed the both of you out of Night Court in a flash of fire and light.

And back into the depths of Autumn Court.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms @assriels @kiarathace

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #autumn court #( .series : bleeding crowns )

259 notes · View notes

fieldofdaisiies · 2 months

Text

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | masterlist

"And what now?" The general's voice is still tinged with the shock from the earlier happenings, his breathing ragged.

"The box won't open without…I don't know. Without what?" Cassian looks at Nesta and only wants to wrap her into his arms, keeping her safe. Nesta holds Ataraxia tightly in her hands, face displaying nothing but strength and determination, but when her eyes slide to the box, completely untouched and closed, on the table in front of her, in the middle of Rhysand's office, disappointment passes over her features. It makes the former determination disappear and her shoulders slouch. Nesta looks exhausted, even a little sad and Cassian just wants to hold her, tell her she did her best, that she did everything she could and it is enough.

"We need magic. A greater force," Nesta breathes, gaze not wavering, trained on the little onyx box. Vassa, the clever fire bird, managed to steal the box Koschei always kept with him. They need to destroy it in order to destroy him, but right now it seems impossible — they can't do it. At least not with the tools at hand.

Even Amren is clueless. What should they do? How should they go forward?

Silence, palpable and heavy, falls upon the room and for a moment everyone seems clueless until—

Amren taps her fingers against her chin and then opens her mouth. "There is one person that I know that could be able to open this box."

The temperature in the office cools at least five degrees, a chill coursing through it. Amren moves towards the desk, fingers tracing a line over the box, eyes squinted. "She has power beyond our knowledge." Amren inhales a deep breath. "And you, boys, put her in the Prison many years ago. Many centuries ago." She looks over her shoulder, dark hair shifting with the movement. "Azriel, Cassian."

A cold shiver cascades down Azriel's spine. A Prison inmate would be their solution? It can't be—

"We can't free a prison inmate," Cassian says, voice strong.

"Of course not, we can also let Koschei destroy us." Amren's statement is gleeful, almost mocking of the general. Cassian only narrows his eyes at her, fighting the urge to flip her off.

"I mean, how can we be sure she is loyal to us and not to…Koschei. Or that she doesn't try to murder us the first chance she gets?" Cassian looks a bit scared and Amren frowns at him.

"Why should she be loyal to Koschei?" she asks in a bored voice.

"If she is a creature that has to be kept in the Prison the connection for her to be loyal to the Death Lord or any kind of evil spirit is not too far fetched," Cassian says and lifts his arms in despair.

Nesta takes a step back, moving closer to her mate, her heart still racing with the former actions. She was the one who tried to open the box, but failed. The power that held it close is just too strong. Alone the trial left its markings on her skin, on her body. She is shivering, goosebumps spreading all over her body. The ancient force having fought against her, fiercely.

"Remember where I come from, boy," Amren snaps and throws Cassian a deadly look. "I've been in there once as well. And I know her. I know about her. And I know that she will help us and isn't loyal to Koschei."

Rhysand, formerly having been calm, silently observing the situation, now steps in, Nyx cradled to his chest. "Can we truly trust her, Amren?" His voice is deep and strong, bouncing of the walls of his office.

They can't risk anything and freeing someone from the Prison can be deadly and cause more problems than they already have.

"We can." Her statement is steadfast, like nothing can shake her belief that the female in question can truly be their life saver. "She might be a little out of practice after being locked away for centuries, but I know she has the kind of power and magic to open this box. After all she was part of…them."

"Of who?" It is Gwyn who asks this question, her voice hushed, almost like whispering about a secret.

Amren turns her head to the priestess, smirking. "Of the Wild Hunt. Not their leader, but the second-in-command."

Silent gasps rumble through the room, and surprise flickers over Gwyn's young face. She has heard about the Wild Hunt, read about it, but she had no idea that someone who was apart of it was locked away in the prison.

Shock takes root in Azriel's chest, rattling his very bones. He has to grab the backrest of the chair in front of him to keep from tumbling. There is only one female this description fits. A female he locked into the prison himself. A female who promised vendetta. A female he loved once. You.

His throat works on a swallow, shadows nervously swirling around him. Azriel isn't the type to be scared of most things, but you? You are a different kind. A different breed. Something otherworldly. Something - a being - that indeed scares him.

"We can use the Harp to enter the cell," Nesta suggests and earns herself a round of agreement and planning immediately starts. But Azriel is unfocused. He thoughts return to you. Always. His body feels weak and he is shaking on the inside. For centuries he has been thinking about you, and now…

"Azriel, you will get her." The shadowsinger wants to say no, but he can't. He has to do it. If someone frees you, it has to be him. So, he only bows his head in silent agreement and already moves towards the door.

"I'll return with her," he says as a matter of good bye, his mind too distressed, his body still in shock, to answer anything else or to do anything else.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

The prison still looks the same. The same dark stone walls, the same mossy smell. The only thing that has changed is Azriel himself. He no longer is this young boy that would do anything the High Lord tells him, without the blink of an eye. He has grown now, and he knows that what he did to you back then, was wrong. The situation — you — should have been handled differently. But he can't take back his actions. But maybe, maybe there is a chance for him to explain it all to you.

His steps hollow through the dimly lit halls, prison cells on either side of it.

He still remembers your cell. It is a memory imprinted on his mind, but one that has been locked away for hundreds of years.

A cold shiver curls around his spine, just like his shadows curl around his body.

He had clamped down on the pain for so long, for centuries, but now that he is here again it all comes back and nearly breaks him. Now, he can't believe what he did. He can't believe he hurt you like this.

Why did he not try to fight? Why did he not choose another option.

Because there wasn't one. It was the only option to keep you safe. To protect you. And your safety was always his priority. Even if it meant locking you in here and ripping his own heart into shreds.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass—"

Your voice catches in your throat, when your nostrils flare, taking in the new, uncommon scent. Someone is here. Someone that hasn’t been here in a long time. The scent is not fully unfamiliar, but you also don’t remember its owner. Until—

A nest of shadows is the first thing you see when the door to your cell opens. The black mist clears and reveals a male of ethereal beauty. A male you've come to loathe even more with every passing century.

"Shadowsinger." A vicious grin spreads over your face, showing your elongated canines. "We meet again."

Alongside the general of the Illyrian armies, the spymaster caught you and put you in this Cauldron-damned prison. It had been centuries ago. But you haven't forgotten. You never will. But why he returned is a mystery….

Before he can so much as blink, you lunge at him, chains clattering on the cold stone floor, covered in dirt and mould. You want to claw at his throat, at best rip it out. The fire of fury inside of you has burned for centuries, wasn't diminished once. And his presence alone added enough fuel to make your weak and broken body move. The sound of the chains reverberates through the dank, musty air, your long, elongated canines gleaming with a feral snarl.

"I'm going to kill you." But you can't. Technically, you can't kill him while in here. Magic binds your power and you are restrained, also by magical chains, that keep you from moving too far or too close to him. But that doesn't stop you from trying.

Hatred, raw and powerful, fuels you and makes you blind with the only thing on your mind being to end his life. He condemned you to this wretched, soul-crushing place. He never cared that you had no choice other than being part of the Wild Hunt. You didn't choose your fate. So, he had no right to do so either.

"You think these chains can hold me, Azriel?" Your voice is a venomous hiss, each syllable dripping with disdain as you strain against the biting restraints, the cold metal spikes digging into your flesh. "I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll rip your throat out and watch you bleed out until the very last drop."

Azriel, his demeanour not giving away the whirlwind of emotions within him, stands in a stance, Truth-Teller clasped in his scarred hands. He seems composed and not afraid and that angers you even more. And so does his voice, cold, low, velvety.

"I'm not here to fight you," he says, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside the Prison cell and within both of you. "I am sorry for—"

"Stuff your apologies up your pretty ass!" With a guttural roar, you hurl yourself at him again, driven by an insatiable hunger to destroy him. Memories of the centuries that have passed, of degradation, and the pain you suffered reach the front of your mind and drive your anger forward.

But the chains hold you back and Azriel swiftly side-steps you. It isn't even necessary. If he doesn't get any closer, there is no chance for you to reach him.

You bare your teeth again, the thin, white nightgown clutching to your body like a second skin. You shiver, but not from the cold, rather from the rage blazing through your veins. "What do you want from me? Why did you come back? Why did you come back now?" you demand, but he leaves you without an answer.

"I don't want to hurt you," Azriel repeats instead, a note of regret tinting his voice.

"Hurt me?" You sneer. "You've already destroyed me! You broke me and you left me broken. Bloody and cold. I lay in my own puke for days, bleeding, wounded."

A pang of hurt hits Azriel right in the heart. He only followed what Rhysand's father had told him to do. He had no other choice. Everything else would have meant your death. He couldn't have risked it.

"I come here because I—because we need your help."

His eyes drop to your hands, scars also marring them. Your pointed nails are still sharp, but brittle, almost like you have been clawing at the stone walls.

Memories flash in his mind of how you sunk them into his skin. How you scratched them over his skin. And how…simultaneously your lips met his, mouths dancing, tongues toying—

"You betrayed me," you seethe, "and now you want my help?"

Azriel's expression looks pained, torn. His eyes drop anew, to the chains binding your feet to the wall. Your hands, though, are free and you can't wait to sink your sharp nails into his neck. Your fangs as well.

"Only over my dead body!" you scream, fury clouding your vision like black haze.

Only for you to realise it is not fury that clouds your vision. He is using his shadows to do so. You can't see anymore and it makes you panic. And this panic makes you lose control. You forgot about your former target, the darkness so looming and scary it makes you scream.

Chains clatter to the ground, but you are too caught in a stupor to move. To run. To attack.

With a swift and calculated manoeuvre, Azriel is behind you and secures handcuffs around your wrists, binding you. Binding you…binding you…You are restrained again.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this." His voice is softer, but it hurts you. You don't want to hear it. Don't want to see this side of him. Because it isn't his true self. His true self hurt you. Broke you. Destroyed you.

You hate him so much, it almost hurts. You can't allow the pain. You will never allow it. You only allow anger.

Blind rage surges within you, a thunderstorm of emotions brewing. And then he does the most unforgivable thing. He knows about your past. Knows about your fear of the dark. And yet, darkness swallows you wholly — a blindfold tightens over your eyes. Helplessness makes the content of your stomach sour and burning tears dwell in your eyes. Rage simmers beneath your skin, but it is the pain of betrayal that nearly gains the upper hand. The sort of pain you have been pushing away for centuries.

You scream anew. His name. Curses. Noises.

"Forgive me," Azriel whispers from behind you. "Forgive me, please."

But you wouldn't even imagine doing so. Never. Only over your dead body.

"You'll regret this." Your voice is not strong. It is hoarse and broken. "I will never forgive you."

Azriel moves swiftly. In his hand, he holds Nesta's harp, the key that allowed him to enter your cell.

"Forgive me," he says again and his hand lands on your hip.

You resist, squirming against his grasp, frustration and anger lacing your voice. "Let me go!" you demand, a mix of desperation and in your voice. But he is stronger.

Ignoring your protests, Azriel gathers you in his arms, scooping you up with ease that is beyond you, cradling your frame against his chest. He adjusts his hold, ensuring you're secure and you feel that something cold, and metal - you can't quite tell- is placed on your belly. The Harp, but this knowledge is unbeknownst to you.

"Stop fighting," he growls. "I'm taking you away from this place."

"Only to lock me up somewhere else." Your tears wet the blindfold.

You struggle again, but it is useless against his strength. Your voice turns into a seething growl when you feel cold air brush you. Azriel rises. You rise. He is flying. And he is taking your with him.

With a powerful surge of his wings, he gets airborne, leaving the prison behind. When air and wind swirls around you, you continue to squirm and strain against his hold.

"I won't let you imprison me again!" you seethe, fear and anger loud in your voice.

He stays calm.

Gradually, your resistance lessens, your body relaxing slightly against Azriel's chest, tension and pain still coiling inside of you. But you are tired. Exhausted. You only want to sleep. And that for ages.

As you fly farther from the prison, towards Velaris, Azriel's embrace remains steadfast, his eyes brushing over your body from time to time. His actions are the only reason for you to hate him so much. And it hurts him as well.

"Forgive me," Azriel breathes into the chilly night air, but you don't hear him anymore.

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesssav @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinalight @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

349 notes · View notes

targaryen-dynasty · 2 months

Text

OBJECT OF DESIRE (2/?)

Aemond Targaryen x female Reader

It's always sacrifice and duty. But what will you do, if it's put to the test?

WARNINGS: none!

WORDS: 3.3 K

NOTES: This is a chapter to build the plot of the story. If everything goes according to plan (what it never does) you're getting two to three more chapters! Tried to end it with a cliffhanger, but ain't sure if it worked lmao

Two days have passed in which you haven’t heard or seen even just a trace of Aemond. You didn’t catch any glimpses of him in the corridors, didn’t see him around his siblings, and not even spotted him training with the sword in the early hours of the day.

You have been counting on him to approach you the following day to whisk you away like he’s said, almost promised, to save you from the inevitable torment that was due the next day – but he didn’t come.

And with his absence, the doubts about merely being used by him arise and become more prominent, constantly scratching in the back of your mind.

The only thing that makes it all slightly better is that you have been seeing your father just as sparsely as your cousin; clearly having no desire to spend his days with you and make up for the time you’ve lost, knowing that you’re incredibly cross with him.

But with yours and Daemon’s paths not crossing once also vanishes any possibility of you coercing him to cancel the courtship, even though the chances would have been small anyways.

The chair you currently sit in is nearly as uncomfortable as the large throne looming behind you is rumored to be, at least that‘s what you fathom, and you‘re certain that the thick fur draped over it, warming your arse and back, does little to help with that.

It is little consolation that King Viserys’ second daughter shares the same fate as you, sitting in a chair that’s just as unpleasant as yours.

You have planned for Ysilla to accompany you while you’re receiving the chosen suitors, trusting her advice and her knowledge of you, however, it has clearly interfered with the plans of Queen Alicent.

But Helaena is no bad company. There’s something about her soft aura, which you’ve already noticed back when you arrived, that calms you and makes your misery much more bearable. She’s not a woman of many words, but there’s wit and charm in them when she speaks.

Lined up in front of you two stands a queue of different lords and highborn men, all chosen by none other than your father, and you’re glad that at least your advisor seems to keep track of the men that come to introduce themselves. Whenever you glance at her, you see her gauging their characters based on their appearances alone, and her expression always matches yours when a man that’s significantly older than you steps forwards. And so far, it’s been quite a few.

In the sea of lords, Blackwood, Lannister and Manderly alike, there eventually steps a much younger lord forwards. You raise your brow, and your eyes briefly flit over his form before Helaena leans towards you.

“This one doesn’t seem too awful, does he?” she whispers, and if you listen closely, you can hear just a lilt of tease in her tone.

You would love to spend your time differently at this moment, and you’re certain Helaena would enjoy being somewhere else as well, although you do feel relieved to finally be at least marginally less bored by someone that’s closer to your age than your father’s.

The lord is tall and well built, wearing a well fitted doublet in his Houses’ colors; knowing them well enough to be certain it’s a fellow House of the Vale of Arryn. He has a clean shaven face that shows now scars or blemishes, and his short, brown hair neatly sits in place. It’s clear he is very-well groomed, a stark contrast to some of the other men that have already spoken to you today.

“No, he’s… alright,” you reply, nodding your head once.

You’re caught off guard when he approaches you slowly, coming closer than any other lord before, and bows before you. He takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. Although you don’t feel any attraction towards him, goosebumps still prickle on your skin; you’re intrigued.

“My lady,” he says, rising to his full height again as he takes a step back. “May I say that you have a striking beauty. I am Lord Alec Hersy of Newkeep. Your name has been brought to me by the other men of the Vale, who know you well and speak of you highly, and my lady, ‘tis an honor to ask for the opportunity to court you and unite our Houses.”

You notice that he speaks with a great deal of confidence, almost as if he’s practiced what to say over and over. As you think about your answer, your eyes flicker to the several men that are still lined up behind him, all their eyes fixed on you as they wait for their turn to approach you.

It’s eerily quiet for the few seconds you contemplate his offer, though you know that you’re not yet allowed to make a decision, and there must have been something in the way you smile at the man before you that makes it appear as if you mean to accept his advances for suddenly another lord comes forward to stand by Lord Hersy’s side.

The other man isn’t as bold as the Hersy, keeping a polite distance from you, but you see it in the way he straightens his back and keeps his head held high that he clearly is competing with the man next to him, vying for your hand in marriage without having said anything up to now.

He is just as tall as his opponent but with a leaner frame, and also wears a doublet in his Houses’ colors; another Lord of the Vale. His long, brown hair is tied up, and he has a confident air about him. And then you spot the broken wheel on his doublet, the coat of arms. You would have never guessed him to be a Lord of House Waynwood for its members usually tend to be more horse-faced, at least that’s what they say, yet this man is strangely comely.

It is clear that both men that stand in front of you are attractive, but in different ways. The Hersy man has a charming and youthful look, while the other has a sophisticated and more mature standing, and you’re not quite sure what you feel more drawn to.

You tilt your head sideways slightly at his bold approach, a raised eyebrow prompting him to finally speak.

“My lady, I have been very impressed with what I have heard about you. Lord Hersy is right when he says you have a striking beauty for you look just like your late mother did. It is a blessing you have her eyes and smile.” His words leave you frowning for a moment, because from what you’ve gathered over all these years, your looks take more after your father than your mother. But the lord continues to speak, pulling you from your train of thought. “As a Lord of House Waynwood, I would like to ask the honor of having you by my side. What do you say?”

You’re stunned by his boldness. Looking from one man to the other, you’re stuck between both of them. However, this doesn’t last long for the silence is suddenly interrupted by the doors to the Throne Room opening.

A mop of silver hair steps into the room with a certain air of arrogance and smugness that clings to him like a cloak. Aemond. His arrival doesn’t only surprise you, but you can also hear the lords and nobles start to mumble and grumble under their breaths, and you’re most impressed by how unphased Aemond is at that.

Taking in a sharp breath, you regain your composure, trying not to let your nervousness show too much, and refocus on the men standing in front of you. Aemond‘s presence is unexpected, and you’re not sure how to feel after being used by him and not hearing from him for the past two days. He has given you hope to put you out of your misery, and crushed it just as easily.

“The both of you are very kind,” you say. Both men start to smile politely, even more when it’s returned by you, however, their smiles drop just as quickly at your next words. “But before I make a choice, I will need to consult with my father.”

With Aemond approaching, boldly walking past the queue of bowing suitors, both men briefly bow to you, before making room for him.

“Prince Aemond,” you say, not waiting for him to settle and start speaking. It seems as though you haven’t lowered your eyebrow at all, one surprising moment happening after the other.

Aemond walks up to you, coming just as close as the Hersy lord did before with his hands clasped behind his back, and his intense stare doesn’t leave your features. He grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips. It makes your pulse quicken, and this time your body starts to feel as if it’s on fire. You’ve been cross with him just a few seconds before, and yet the feeling of his lips on your skin is enough to make the anger vanish.

“I know you expected my return, my lady,” he says softly, his voice just loud enough for you and Helaena to hear him and not the men around. “Will you come with me now, or will you leave this to the men that are too weak to give you what you deserve?”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes flit down to where his hand is still holding yours. “What exactly would I be getting if I were to choose you, my prince?”

Aemond smirks at your reply, and squeezes your hand in a reassuring manner. “These men do not understand you as I do, my lady, and they never will. They may pretend to worship the ground you walk on, but that will not change the way they see you behind closed doors.”

Something stirs deep inside of you at his words, warmth rising in your cheeks and a tingling sensation in your stomach. It’s all too easy to give in to him, to give in to his words if it means you get a chance with him. Your mind races as you try to push away the thoughts of the consequences; but to no avail.

You swallow, and reluctantly pull your hand back to fold them in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. “I want to express my great gratitude for your presence, Prince Aemond, but I am afraid I can not give you your desired answer,” you speak loud enough for everyone in the Throne Room to hear, making clear that it’s you being in control. “As I said, I will need to consult with my father before accepting any of the offers.”

The smile you give him is polite, but it hardly reaches your eyes. His smirk drops at that, and with a bow of his head, he turns to his sister who has silently watched the exchange. “May I have a word?” It’s not a question but more a demand, giving her no chance to refuse.

Helaena nods and rises to her feet, flashing you an apologetic smile before she follows Aemond and disappears through the king’s door behind the Iron Throne.

You’re left to deal with the suitors and guards all by yourself, and know you’ll have to find a way to bid the men that have come to seek your hand in marriage farewell; in the most tactful way possible.

Standing up, you keep your hands clasped in front of you. You look over the remaining suitors, carefully analyzing each of them. “My lords,” you speak loud and clear, feigning your confidence, “thank you for coming here today. I am incredibly impressed by all your proposals, but it was a long and tiresome day, and I have decided to have another day of courtship in the morrow. If you would excuse me now.”

As the men exit the large room on your behalf, Helaena comes back from where she’s left with Aemond not long before; not in the presence of her younger brother anymore. There’s a small scroll in her hand, neatly clasped between her slender fingers.

“Is there a lord that has piqued your interest already?” she asks, a gentle smile on her lips.

You glance at the scroll, noticing that it’s sealed, before meeting her eyes again. “Is there a lord that has piqued my interest?” you ask, your teasing tone suggesting that you don’t think there’s even one man that would fit the bill.

“You’re not entirely incorrect,” she muses, “though I think that Lord Hersy does seem a little… less unappealing than the others.” Her words make you chuckle, and you raise a brow as she hands you the scroll. “For me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

She nods, and you take it from her hands but don’t open it right away. It feels like something that’s best read in private.

“Do you not wish to know what is written inside?” she asks, gently, and not in a way that’s meant to pester you.

Looking down at the scroll, you furrow your brow and sigh. There’s no way you can refuse her, a princess, without being impolite and appearing suspicious. “I… I suppose I do.”

You break the seal and unroll it carefully in a guarded manner, making sure to be the first, and only one, to see what’s written inside. It takes everything in you not to allow your eyes to widen the moment you’re reading the first few words, not wanting to raise anyone’s suspicion.

Before the princess can even ask, knowing she’d eventually do, you opt to tell her but keep the contents vague, giving a little fib. “Looks like…” you begin, trailing off as you pretend to read the scroll to its completion. “It’s a proposition from your brother, and apparently he wants me… to join him for supper.”

Helaena raises her brow, and you notice a smile creeping onto her lips. “This offer is certainly… an interesting one. A rather informal event for a prince to ask a lady to join him for. But do you wish to accept his invitation? You can decline, of course, but do keep in mind that my brother is quite the catch.”

You roll the scroll and keep it tightly secured in your palm, not keen on having its contents read by anyone other than you. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to meet for supper,” you reply. “My father surely would want me to be open-minded while searching for a suitable match.”

She brings a hand up to rub your upper arm, smiling softly at you. “That certainly sounds wise,” she hums. “I think my presence is no longer required today, although I am very curious to hear how your supper goes. Will you promise to tell me how it turned out in the morrow?”

You bow your head. “Of course. I shall take my leave now, cousin, and I must say that this has been quite a pleasant afternoon.”

“You are most welcome, cousin. If you require any support, or an open ear, come speak to me. I will be here to lend you both of it.”

With Helaena’s words, you exit the Throne Room, heading straight back to your chambers. They are quiet, for once, though this moment of serenity doesn’t last long with Ysilla stepping out of the adjoining bathing chambers.

She has a smile on her lips as she catches you in better spirit than anticipated. “I assume that the courtship has been successful? “

You bite the tip of your tongue, stopping your lips from pulling into a grin. “You can say that it has, indeed,” you reply. Not wanting to dwell on the topic any longer than necessarily, reducing the risk of her asking any more questions, you change it. “Is the bath ready?”

Ysilla bows her head, getting the cue, and steps aside. “It is waiting for you, yes. May I fetch your robe, my lady?”

“That is very gracious of you, thank you,” you reply, and when she disappears to prepare the robe for you, you’re quick to stuff the scroll into the pile of riding attire you’ve taken with you upon the travel.

You don’t tell her about the letter you’ve received, and even less about what’s written inside. Therefore your maid doesn’t know that there’s no need for her to prepare you for the night just yet. It’s easier for you if she leaves you alone very early to retire to the quarters occupied by your entourage for you don’t need any fuss about leaving your chambers so late.

While you usually handle most of the bathing by yourself, scrubbing and cleaning your body, you’ve left the care of your silver hair to your maid. She washes it thoroughly, dries it with care, and once you’re dressed, she separates the strands to brush them carefully. She applies special oils on the silver strands, before your hair is loosely braided down your back.

It seems as though Ysilla is extra cautious to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for bed; preparing every detail, however small, and completing every task meticulously for you to retire for the night. You’re certain she awaits for your restraint to snap at any given moment for you to tell her even the smallest details of the first day of your courtship. But in the prospect of your night, she can wait a damn long time for that to happen.

And only when she brings in a small tray with light supper does she finally bow to you, folding her hands in front of her body. “I shall now retire for the night, my lady,” she hums. “I am certain tomorrow brings with it new, exciting tasks and I need to rest to be able to cope with them.”

Sitting down at the desk, you grab the cutlery to cut into the woodcock that’s served. You look up at her with a soft smile on your lips. “Thank you for your hard work today, Ysilla. Rest well, and we will see each other in the morning.”

Your maid nods her head once again, and sets off for the door. “May the Seven watch over you, my lady.” With these words, she shuts the door behind her, and only as she’s finally out of the room does her absence weigh down on you, making you terribly aware of the letter that’s neatly stored in the pile of your riding breeches.

The next two hours are drawn out to the point you consider just walking out of your chambers, making your way through the winding corridors and right towards his apartments. But you don’t do that.

Only when the sun has long set do you start to prepare yourself for what lies ahead. Your nightgown and shift fall to the floor, and are quickly replaced by smallclothes and tight-fitting breeches, topped by a soft tunic. A pair of boots and a warm leather jacket follow, completing your outfit.

You fetch the scroll again, skimming over its contents, rereading them in case you’ve missed anything. Of course you haven’t, and it’s written at the bottom, too hard to miss:

‘Dress simply and practically.’

That’s what you’ve done as you push at the wall to the right side of your bed, revealing a door that’s hidden in plain sight. It has been built into the architecture of the castle, perfectly blended into the wall and hard to find if you didn’t know what you’re looking for.

And you didn’t know – it was a hard guess, based on the drawing Aemond has scrawled below the invitation to a little adventure.

Mini Taglist: @heimtathurs @fan-goddess @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

OOD Taglist: @vhwyrm @multyfangirl @toodlesxcuddles @chick-from-nz @guessm0del @dixie-elocin @eponaartemisa @bad-dragun @landlockedmermaid77

227 notes · View notes

partycatty · 3 months

Text

liu kang > not her

i wonder what liu kang would do if he chose you in the new era, but comes across his kitana when the timeline is in danger

warning: OW. liu kang is THE MOST tragic character in the entire franchise and i made sure you all see it too.

notes: take a shot every time i say "timeline" (you will die)

masterlist

• when liu kang created the new timeline, he was sure to lean you on the side of justice. you had never caught his eye before, but something about your... essence. it drew him in like no other. perhaps he was too enamored with kitana to not notice your own beauty. your ideals matched his and your conversations were endless if given the opportunity.

• falling in love is a hard thing to do when your life is infinite, but liu kang swore to be by your side until your body leaves the mortal realm. thankfully, you were edenian, so there was plenty of time to spend together.

• he would hold your hand as you two walked along the fire garden, but you noticed liu kang's eyes were... distant. his glowing eyes were noticeably dull as he seemed lost in thought.

• "my lord," you gently say, squeezing his hand. "is there something on your mind?"

�� liu smiles down at you, a warmth filling his body at the use of his title. it sounded like honey dripping from your voice, at least to him.

• "your presence puts me at ease, my love," liu replies with an undertone of sadness. "but i am... worried. with titan shang tsung endangering the realms, a solution is lost to me. every force in this timeline would not stand a chance against him."

• "in this timeline," you trail off, trying to help. a mortal could only do so much to help a god. "the existence of a titan shang tsung implicates the existence of more possibilities, does it not?"

• liu kang stops walking, dropping your hand as he seems to process your suggestion.

• "how could i have not seen it sooner?" he asks, his tone wavering from his typical mannerism. "of course. there exists multiple timelines, one where each one of us is a titan. i could get their assistance..." he grins down at you. "i am not the only keeper of time in the universe. you are a genius, my dear."

• even still, his gaze is distant. the memories of his past life, before kronika, before being a revenant... they still ached deep within him. he had to say goodbye to all he knew for the betterment of the universe, and it's not something he prefers to talk about often. mourning a lost loved one is one thing, but losing eons worth of history in front of your eyes hurts far more than anything you could ever comprehend.

• he eagerly opens a portal to the hourglass, where you both step through arm in arm. he looks at you apologetically, releasing his grip on your arm and flourishing in front of the hourglass, the sand whirling behind the glass. he knew who to summon first. you step aside to give him room to work.

• kitana appears after being assembled by the sands of her time. she had the face of the outworld princess, but not the outfit. something about her felt different. this was the titan kitana. your jaw drops. panicked, she exclaims the name of the man before her, only glancing over at you, considering you two were not familiar in the previous timeline.

• "easy, kitana, you are among friends," liu kang reassures, holding his hands out to defuse her confusion. you're awestruck. "you're a long way from home, a different timeline to be precise."

• kitana can only ask more questions, wondering how exactly liu kang is a keeper of the hourglass like herself. her memories of kronika's disruption of time seem fuzzy.

• "the battle for the hourglass must have ripped apart time's fabric," you explain gently, not all too familiar with the incident but knowledgeable enough from the conversations you and liu would share in the gardens as his head rested on your lap, your fingers entangled in his hair.

• liu kang fills in the gaps, explaining everything necessary for her to understand. kitana turns to the hourglass, and then liu.

• "if many timelines sprung from one, and we were both part of it, then you are..." her voice breaks as she steps closer. "...you are my liu kang."

• your presence is completely ignored now as the realizations spawn in. liu kang stands, completely still as kitana assembles the puzzle pieces.

• "the same one that battled you in shang tsung's courtyard, who fought at your side at the koliseum," liu kang is now returning the gesture, stepping closer to the woman. you feel your stomach twist and turn. "who beamed with pride when you became outworld's kahn."

• she grabs his hand, squeezing the same way you do when you seek reassurance from your liu kang. your liu kang. your timeline. not hers. kitana leans into him, but liu kang steps back from the attempt at a kiss. he still holds her hand as a gesture of kindness, but twists his body to face you. you're pale, wringing your hands. the entire situation makes you uneasy. you wonder if your advice should have stayed in your throat.

• "and this is my (reader)," liu kang introduces you to her. "in our timeline, you two had only met briefly. now, she is by my side, just as you were." you feel a pang in your chest at his careful choice of words. never did he expect to see his kitana again, but he couldn't just drop everything to be with her. not when time itself is unstable. but even still, seeing her in the flesh now after being a mere memory for eons, he feels the undying urge to hold her close.

• kitana frowns, pulling away. "why does fate seem always to conspire against us?" she asks in a brokenhearted whisper, fists clenching and unclenching at the sight of you. "to deny us life's simple pleasures?"

• liu kang thinks back to before everything began. training alongside kung lao, taking in the wise words of raiden, and the little moments to be spared where he could hold onto kitana, for even just a moment. but now, he was forced to be the protector, to give raiden the life he should have had. the current kitana belongs to raiden now, just as liu kang once was. why he didn't keep her to himself, he'll never truly understand.

• "i don't know," he finally replies, eyes drinking in the sight of the woman he thought he'd lost forever. "perhaps, in one of the many timelines, they are ours."

• you honestly feel as if you could throw up at the sight. the man that dedicated his every moment to you was now deeply longing the touch of another. blaming him is something you can't even bring yourself to do, either. if you had lost it all, surely you would crave just one more taste of what could've been.

• the inner turmoil he's going through is evident on his expression. who to choose, if any? would the fate of the universe, and all timelines within it crumble should he choose titan kitana... his kitana? liu kang spins around to get a good look at you.

• "in this timeline, i choose to protect what i have," he says finally, stepping toward you and holding your hands in his. he analyzes every imperfection, every curve on your features. he seems... content. "i've seen everything i love be pulled from my grasp. never again."

• his words touch your heart, and you feel comforted knowing that he would not be whisked away from you as simply as that. however, despite his certainty, you cannot brush the observation that he misses what could've been aside. you were crafted by him, beautiful and charming, capturing his attention easily.

• but god, his kitana. she captured his heart eons ago, and liu kang isn't sure he could let go just yet.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #liu kang x reader #liu kang #i felt bad writing this im sorry

211 notes · View notes

magiccath · 5 months

Text

How could you not know?

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which an alien fortune teller lets your feelings for the Doctor slip

“5027, the outskirts of Alpha Centauri,” The Doctor explained, landing the TARDIS with a flourish. The ship retaliated with a shake making you wobble a bit in a desperate attempt to not fall over. Sometimes you wondered if the Doctor actually did know what he was doing when it came to the TARDIS. He claimed she was a finicky ship, but you had your suspicions regarding his flying abilities.

Once you had regained your footing you exchanged a childish grin with the Time Lord, both of you excited for your next adventure. Without warning, you bounded excitedly out of the ship, anxious to see what was on the other side.

The sky instantly caught your attention, its purple hue so different from anything you’d seen before. Multiple moons littered the skyline, and cars zoomed through the air above your head. The grass was soft and emitted a faintly sweet aroma. You turned your face to the sky, allowing the light rain to fall on you. With an over joyous giggle you looked back at the Doctor “It’s fantastic!”

He smiled at you lovingly from the TARDIS’ doorway, leaning on the frame slightly. He loved seeing you like this.

“Allons-y?” He asked, more a question than an exclamation. You nodded enthusiastically and held your hand out for him. He locked the door before running to your side, slipping your hand into his.

“By now you lot have spread yourselves across the galaxy,” The Doctor explained, “Mingled with aliens and traveled amongst the stars.”

You watched the Doctor as he talked, completely smitten with his knowledge and passion regarding the vast universe. He talked about it with such passion and enthusiasm, that you had no choice but to listen intently.

“Planets like this sort of turn into a melting pot,” He continued, “you can find just about any species here,” He looked down at you with a smile. “The center of the city is a big ‘ol market of sorts. You can get goods and foods from all around the galaxy,” He explained.

“Kind of like an alien farmers market?” You asked with a laugh.

“Sort of,” He shrugged, “you’ll see.”

After a short walk, you had found yourselves in the aforementioned city center. The Doctor wasn’t joking when he called it a big market. For as long as you could see there were rows and rows of vendors selling everything from oddly colored fruits to exotic fibers, and everything in between. It was almost too much, all of the sights, smells, and textures hitting you at once.

Much to the Doctor’s dismay, you asked to stop at every single booth. It was your first space market, and you wanted to see everything. After all, there was so very much to see.

“Where do we even start?” You breathed, still trying to take it all in. As much as you wanted to run wild, the Doctor was the expert here.

The Doctor scanned the area quickly before leading you to a wooden booth selling what appeared to be bread. Surely the Doctor hadn’t taken you to an alien planet for bread? You were almost certain he was aware of the numerous kinds of bread on Earth.

The Doctor paid for two small loaves and handed one to you.

“Did you really just buy bread?” You laughed, looking at the food in your hands.

“Just try it,” The Doctor grinned.

You examined the loaf, finding it to be more of a pastry than a simple loaf of bread. Deciding it was safe enough you bit into it warily. A slightly sour taste assaulted you, catching you off guard. You pulled the bread away to examine the bright pink jelly that filled it.

“What is this?” You asked the Doctor wide-eyed.

“Neo-fruit,” he smiled, taking a large bite out of his own. “Like it?” He asked, mouth half full. You nodded and took another bite, letting the combination of sweet and sour melt on your tongue. The Doctor finished his treat quickly, but you savored yours as the two of you walked along.

At some point you found yourself stuck at a small booth displaying beautiful scarves. Their silky smooth texture had initially drawn your attention, but the longer you looked at them the more interesting they became. In your hands, you held a scarf the same blue as the TARDIS, with lighter-colored swirls and small yellow dots littered throughout. You must have been holding it for a while because the Doctor noticed.

“You like it?” He asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Reminds me of the TARDIS,” You smiled. The Doctor nodded and pulled a few coins from his jacket pocket before handing them to the vendor.

“It’s yours,” He smiled back.

“I- um. Thank you.”

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to the scarf. You nodded quickly, handing it over to him. He ran his fingers through the fabric, unraveling the scarf, before wrapping it gently around you. The action felt so shockingly intimate you couldn’t help but turn a bright scarlet. The Doctor, per usual, had become too distracted to notice. He ran off, leaving you starstruck in his absence.

By the time that you caught back up to the Doctor, he already had two pints of steaming liquid in his hands. He shoved one into your own hands before clinking your glasses together. You stared at the drink, shocked.

“Hot chocolate,” He explained before taking a gulp of his. Foam from the top stuck to his upper lip. You smiled and sipped your own drink, getting the foam on the tip of your nose. Without a second thought, the Doctor used his thumb to wipe it off, the simple touch sending shivers down your spine.

Always in motion, the Doctor kept making his way through the market as you enjoyed your drinks.

You loved spending time with the Doctor like this, taking and laughing while you held hands. His hand always seemed to find its way into yours, almost as if he was scared he might lose you amongst the chaos that followed him.

By the time you had walked through all of the booths, both you and the Doctor were carrying small purchases and laughing comfortably. You decided to loop back through the market on the way to the TARDIS. You walked hand in hand, taking in all of the sights around you.

Your eyes caught on a small booth you hadn’t noticed before. The setup was akin to a fortune teller’s booth. You tugged on the Doctor’s sleeve, excited to see what an alien fortune teller looked like.

You slipped your way through the drapery and into the booth. Inside was a beautiful alien. Her skin was an iridescent white with large ears poking out of her long, silky hair. As your eyes settled on her face, you instantly became aware of her eyes - or lack thereof.

“Greetings!” She hummed, gesturing to the seat before her.

You looked at the Doctor, warry of the stunning creature before you. He nodded, and you took a seat before her. She grasped your hands lightly with her own, her touch feather-light.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke up.

“You love him.”

You cast a wayward glance back at the Doctor, panic coursing through you.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “he’s my best mate.”

“No,” she continued, “you truly love him.”

You stammered, not knowing how to react.

“He’s just a friend,” you smiled painfully. It was true, that’s all the Doctor was.

“But you want more,” she said plainly. You were almost certain if she had eyes they would be baring into your soul.

You looked back at the Doctor, panicked, but he was already walking out of the booth. You pulled your hands from the aliens and dashed after him.

You caught up to him quickly, but he didn’t seem to fully register your presence. The walk back to the TARDIS was silent. The Doctor didn’t seem to have anything to say, and you were too scared to speak up. Was he angry? Your greatest fears settled around you like a very uncomfortable blanket. This was it, the Doctor was finally done with you. All because of one stupid alien.

The Doctor unlocked the ship silently and made his way straight to the console, busying himself with flicking switches and pressing buttons.

You peeled your coat off slowly before draping it over the railing. Absentmindedly your hands went to the scarf around your neck, pulling at the threads anxiously.

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” You laughed, though it wasn’t very convincing.

“No?” The Doctor asked calmly, looking you in the eye. His gaze was so heavy it was almost impossible to look away.

“Really, honestly!” You said, trying to hide your voice crack. The Doctor pulled his eyes away from you and back to the console in front of him. Anxiety built within you again. When the Doctor never responded you spoke up again, “Please say something.”

The Doctor turned his attention back to you, his usually expressive eyes impossible to read.

“Please.” You whispered, pulling at your new scarf desperately.

“You really are oblivious,” He said, pulling his eyes from yours.

“W-what?” You stammered.

“After all this time you still don’t know?” He asked, shoving himself off of the console and walking over to you. “You don’t realize just how hard I’ve fallen for you?”

“Me? Are you sure? Out of the whole universe you fell for me?”

The Doctor laughed brightly, “How could I not?” He asked, his hands ghosting on the sides of your body. You looked up at him, finally seeing all of the love hidden within his honey eyes. You crushed yourself for never noticing it before.

“You’re the most magnificent person I’ve ever met,” he whispered.

Tired of waiting, the Doctor wrapped his arms around you with a newfound urgency. His lips connected with yours, sending all kinds of sparks down your body. You quickly relaxed into the kiss, allowing your arms to drape over his shoulders.

He pulled away briefly, wanting to make sure this was what you wanted. He didn’t even get to open his mouth before you cut him off, a more desperate kiss erupting from you. The Doctor was more than happy to oblige, his arms wrapping even tighter around you. One of his hands moved upwards to cup your face delicately, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, the Doctor grinned at you.

“Can we do more of that?” You asked, breathlessly.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #the doctor #doctor who #fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #david tennant

330 notes · View notes

lovers-eternal · 2 months

Text

spoilers!!!!

now about halfway thru mistborn, my thoughts so far:

i LOVE vin, she’s everything i want out of a complex female character. she has just enough of the “annoying” teenage attitude to feel realistic. she’s stubborn and headstrong.

also love the father/daughter dynamic between vin and kelsier, at first i was worried it was going to turn into some weird like teacher/student romance but we’re safe from that, phew

so idk if there’s any romance going on in this book, but im hoping to see elend & vin have a enemies/lovers moment. love a forbidden romance trope. kelsier definitely has his hands full with vin. ik some people hate the “omg ive seen him twice and im in love with him” but lets be so real that’s how teens are LOL

i do get kelsier’s mistrust in the nobility, but i think there’s possibly rebels who feel the same way as him. the nobles seem to be just as policed and watched, maybe even more so, by the lord ruler. yes they’re privileged and treat skaa awful but how many of them act out of fear?? also cmon an ally like that would be a game changer

wtf is going on with these Keepers? why would the lord ruler use them. why store this knowledge if to hide it from everyone?

why is the continent covered constantly under ash? was it done on purpose by the lord ruler? does the volcano have some connection towards this eleventh metal - hence why it’s kept active by some magic? does it tie in with his immortality?

i have a feeling there’s going to be some betrayal i get blindsided by, kelsier has faced it before & vin lives in constant fear of it. but… who will it be? ham seems likely now given his doubts about their army.

also marsh and mare??? maybe mare didn’t betray him and it was marsh trying to save mare from her fate. still angry with his brother’s recklessness, the fact that he got her over himself. was mare actively having an affair with marsh? or marsh just never won mare’s favor?

vin’s father. would he recognize her if he saw her? do they bare an resemblance? don’t know. but i have a feeling he will play a part in this. will he be sympathetic to his daughters cause or will he be disgusted?

there’s more i probably should add but this is what is off of the top of my head. this book is so hard to put down.

#mistborn #brandon sanderson #spoilers #no spoilers for me please #mistborn trilogy

171 notes · View notes

reverieparacosm · 10 months

Note

hi! could you please write yandere!sauron x fem reader hcs? maybe sauron had a dream of this woman who fulfills a prophecy he read that would make him more powerful so he sends his minions to bring her to him and when he meets her there is a magical bond between them and he is obsessed with her

Prophecy: Yandere!Sauron x F!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, possessive behaviors, manipulation, gaslighting, kidnapping, slavery, (Sauron is already a red flag -)

Note: Your wish is my command! I am weak for Yandere Sauron.

Remember kids - please do not enslave people just because you saw them in dreams

Sauron's thirst for power is unending

As the Dark Lord of Mordor, he is always on the lookout for ways to increase his influence and rule over Middle-Earth

One night, he is visited by a vision of a woman who would help him fulfill a prophecy that would grant him even more power. This vision ignites a fiery determination within him, and he sets his minions on the task of finding her and bringing her to him

His servants search far and wide, but the woman is elusive and hard to find. Months pass without success, but finally, one of his minions stumbles upon her during a routine scouting mission

He brings Sauron the news, and the Dark Lord is overjoyed. He immediately orders his minions to keep a close eye on her and bring him regular reports

But Sauron's desire for this mysterious woman grows stronger with each passing day. He wants her for himself, and orders his minions to bring her to him

She is everything he has hoped she would be - powerful and capable of fulfilling the prophecy. The moment they meet, Sauron feels a magical bond between them that he has never experienced before. He is immediately obsessed with her, unable to tear his eyes away from her

With a single glimpse, he is captivated by her beauty. So much so that he takes her face in his hand before she has even noticed his presence. His ice-cold mental glove caresses her cheeks and he absorbs every delicate detail, leaving her with an unsettling sensation

When she turns her head to the side, Sauron becomes more aggressive. He grabbs her chin with one hand and held her neck with the other, forcing her to look into his eye

Despite being an evil, dark lord with a reputation for cruelty, he develops a soft spot for her

He tells his minions not to harm her and threatens those who do with severe punishment. He does not want to lose her or drive her away, for he knows that she is the key to fulfilling his ultimate goal - becoming the most powerful being in Middle-Earth

"I would rather burn the world than see it harm you."

Sauron spends every waking hour with her, pouring his heart and soul into their relationship. He is desperate to learn everything he could about her, her abilities, and her place in the grand scheme of things. He is certain that she is the one he has been seeking for so long, the one who would help him achieve true greatness

As the days pass, the bond between them only grows stronger, and Sauron's obsession with her only deepens. He knows that the prophecy is within his grasp, and he would do whatever it takes to fulfill it with her by his side

The woman is initially reluctant to trust Sauron. But as he charms her with his words and gifts, she begins to fall under his spell

Sauron soon begins to see the woman as his property and becomes increasingly possessive and demanding. He expects her to devote all of her time and energy to him, and becomes violent when she tries to resist

"Your heart beats in harmony with mine, the two inextricably linked in a bond so strong that no other force can break it. You are mine, and I am yours, our destinies intertwined forevermore."

Sauron is constantly monitoring the woman, using magic to invade her thoughts and dreams. He knows her every move and thought, and he uses this knowledge to control her

Sauron revels in her obedience, especially when she sits at his feet as he holds court with his many war generals. It is a constant reminder of his power over her, and he loves having her as his symbol. Even when he is deep in conversation, he still takes a moment to stroke her hair, relishing in her submission. He senses the tension in her body, and it only increases his satisfaction

"There is no one like you, my beautiful darling. The way you bend to my will pleases me greatly. You are a constant reminder of the power I have over you, and it thrills me to no end. Even in the midst of battle, I cannot help but take a moment to stroke your hair, relishing in your submission. Your body trembles with tension, and it only increases my satisfaction. Never forget who you belong to. I am your master, and you will forever be my symbol."

The woman is conflicted about Sauron's behavior, but she is unable to resist the powerful bond between them. She tries to convince herself that she can change him, but as time goes on, she realizes that he is too deeply engrained in his dark ways to change

If she tries to escape, Sauron would likely use his powerful magic to track her down and capture her

He would stop at nothing to keep her under his control. If the woman manages to escape his grasp, Sauron would likely become more obsessed than ever, and he would use all of his resources to find her and bring her back to him. He would stop at nothing to keep her by his side, even if it meant using his most dark and nefarious tactics to do so

"You are my most prized treasure, my greatest possession. No one on this earth or beyond it will ever take you away from me. Our love is eternal, a bond that cannot be broken or tarnished by any force in existence."

444 notes · View notes

lai-mar · 8 days

Text

Re: Winged Lion fulfilling Laios' desires + "Marcille will no longer have to be alone"

Throughout the lion's persuasion, Laios has been acting reluctant / defensive / angry / embarrassed. He tells the lion that his desires of having monsters attack a village was a foolish childhood fantasy. Concerning Falin, the lion tells him he's being a hypocrite because he's wishing for a peaceful world and they can't revive Falin without magic, then the lion says they'll move onto more cheerful topics and digs into Laios' "true" subconscious desire to become a monster (reflected in the succubus chapter).

Laios is clearly uncomfortable but the lion continues digging in. The lion mentions Laios' own desires of becoming a monster, loving monsters, desires that define Laios as a person, and almost glosses over his will to revive Falin? Because we all know he loves his sister and wants to save her. It's a noble and sympathetic act. But turning in a monster and potentially terrorizing or at least scaring people? Just because he wants to? To make up for his lack of social tact and his seeming distaste for humankind? That's not noble. So naturally Laios clings onto his goal of saving Falin (evident in the scene when the lion curses him and Laios immediately thinks of Falin), and just as naturally, the lion wants to uncover that and make him confront his "true" desire.

Laios loves his friends and his party, but I think the lion isn't granting them full livelihoods out of pure selflessness on Laios' behalf. Because his party, despite everything, accepts him. They cook with him, they journey with him to save Falin, they trust him, they support him. In the dungeon, Laios' monster knowledge is respected and valued by his friends. Right before the confrontation with the lion, Laios gives each of his party members something to do, in particular telling Izutsumi to kill him. This is probably because of her skills and the fact that he's known Izutsumi the least (and they're less close compared to, let's say, Izutsumi and Marcille). But regardless of how long he's known them, he trusts them. He feels comfortable and confident around them. He feels supported. He knows his friends will do what he told them to do. And in a world in which Laios struggles to navigate due to his social skills, his companions are very precious to him. The party is aware of Laios' shortcomings but they follow and love him anyway. Keeping them unharmed is a noble act, but also selfish, because Laios likes being accepted and cared for.

Keeping the party safe is a vague concept, but then the lion goes for the kill— Marcille's lifespan.

And you can see Laios' expression instantly changes. There's a whole panel of his face. Previously, he's been uncomfortable and defensive. Even when the lion points out his "embarrassing" and "selfish" desire to be a monster, he's not as affected as he is. Now, he's shaken. He twitches. He knows something inside him just wavered. And the lion pounces on it.

Regarding why Laios wants Marcille to not be lonely, I have some thoughts:

Sympathy

Laios is the one who saw Marcille's nightmare and knows acutely what she fears. She lost Falin and was traumatised because of it. The whole party got killed and she was also traumatised. And Laios probably thinks it's his duty as a friend, party leader, and someone who saw into her nightmare to protect her and make her happy. Falin might never come back and maybe Marcille's already lost a loved one, and Laios doesn't want that to happen again even though it inevitably will.

2. Marcille's time as a dungeon lord

Laios' argument against lord Marcille is that she can't force everyone to eat from the same menu and not everyone wants to live that long. This might be a translation issue, but the lion doesn't say it's going to extend everyone's lifespans. No, it focuses on Marcille herself and says "Marcille will no longer have to be alone". Not "everyone will live as long as Marcille" or "Marcille will live as long as everyone else". It's not about ages, it's how Marcille feels. Which is something Laios obviously cares about.

Lord Marcille was unable to fulfill her desires. What if Laios does it for her, in a kind of "two in one" demon deal? Logistically, in order for the party to keep Marcille company, they'll have to live as long as she does (note the 999 years), or as the lion says, make up a fake version of themselves to keep her company. It might not be real, and with a bit of thinking, this dream crumbles, but the lion deviously targets the emotions and it overshadows rational thought. What if it's impossible to keep Marcille company for as long as she lives? Maybe the lion will magically make it work. Just maybe. And Laios holds onto this shred of hope.

3. Solidarity of being alone

Marcille, Laios, and Falin all experienced loneliness / feeling outcasted growing up. During the nightmare sequence, Laios says Marcille is different from him because her dream takes place in a library to show how hardworking she is. But ultimately, they are people who don't like being alone. Marcille warms up to eating monsters and accepts Laios for who he is. Laios rescues Marcille from the nightmare and the lion. They are each other's comfort zones and they keep each other company.

Laios doesn't want to be alone, hence the lion offering to save his friends. And he doesn't want Marcille to be alone, because he cares for her, and she's just like him in that regard.

Mentioning Marcille's feelings is what tips Laios over the edge. He isn't embarrassed or angry, he's frozen to the ground, shaken and persuaded. Arguably, saving Marcille is also a "noble" goal in the way saving Falin is a noble goal, but I think L+M has developed so far that saving her will feel like saving him because they both just want someone to keep them company (especially with the context of having lost Falin, who keeps them company and loves them for who they are).

Before all of this, Laios trusts Marcille with his precious gourmet guide. It's his hint that he's turned into his ideal monster, but the fact that he's given the embodiment of his dreams and desires to her shows how much he trusts her and feels comfortable around her. And it's Marcille who passes the guide around their friends as they all realise the monster is Laios. Even as a monster, Laios is recognised, his friends cheer for him, they want to save him.

I don't think I've seen anyone talk about this before, but later, Marcille tries using her summoned serpent / monster to eat monster Laios. (Like how she used it to eat her friends when she was a lord.) And Marcille's monster actually swallows Laios. But then Laios claws open its stomach and breaks free. Consumption is a form of love and salvation. I liked seeing their different monsters: Marcille's being a sleek serpent with flower motifs, kind of resembling her sky fish familiar that she used to rescue Senshi and Laios' almost chaotic chimera full of bits and pieces he picked up and carefully selected (including the scylla head he picked from the succubus). Marcille tries to save Laios by using her monster to eat him. They all save Falin by eating her monster parts. Even though initially Marcille was the one most picky about eating monsters, in the end she summons her own familiars and monsters and engages in her own way of creation / consumption.

And after all of this, it's Marcille who finds human Laios first. She doesn't berate him or anything, just treats him normally, tells him everyone is waiting for him. Because they accept each other and keep each other company. That's one of their core desires. Their character arcs intertwine and in the end they live together. Neither of them will have to be alone.

#laios touden #marcille donato #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #mine #meta #hope this is coherent #laimar #<- not a shippy analysis but i want to fill up the tag with something that could be relevant and not ship bashy at least lol #long post

96 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 24 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

Text

Round 4 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

Anti-propaganda (spoilers)

I love the Locked Tomb series but Harrowhark has daddy issues with God, had a childhood crush on God's cryogenic partner, and is in love with God's daughter, not to mention that she's essentially a bone-bender. The religion on her home planet exists in a way that is technically against the will of the canon in-universe God, even. All of this to say, Harrowhark is heretical at minimum if not an outright witch. Terrible Catholic. Burn her.

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

Our boy CHOOSES not to receive the Eucharist because he doesn’t believe he is worthy. The spiritual insight, the devotion, the fact that this teenager is worried he may have a mortal sin weighing on his soul…this boy isn’t just going through the motions, he’s putting work into this.

#polls #r4 #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #harrowhawk #harrowhark nonasigmus #tlt #the locked tomb #Ronan Lynch #the raven cycle #raven cycle

314 notes · View notes

vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

Simple Wishes

Summary: He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. But would you still allow him to hold your hand?

Word Count: 3k

Tags: alhaitham x gn reader, deshret x gn reader, jinni!reader, past lifes, reincarnation au, angst, character death, modern au, some spoliers of genshin lore 3.2 onwards, sfw, tragedy, fluff, daughter nahida

Authors Note: This is based on the theory that alhaitham is in some way connected to king deshret, either as a reincarnation or a descendant. The reader is a jinni that understands and feels human emotions, a mirror for gods to reflect upon and cultivate more wisdom from a human prospective. Enjoy!

Upon a golden throne, imposing and all-knowing sat King Deshret. King of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. The proud and all-mighty king of the red sands. On his left, stood a Jinni, quiet and patiently waiting upon the great king and its mistress, the goddess of flowers to return from her visit to a grand friend.

The Jinn followed their mother goddess everywhere, in a trance of maddening loyalty and love. Yet here you were, far from the side of your goddess, but loyally attending to the curiosity of the great king.

Followers of the Scarlet King might be appalled by the notion that their great king, the embodiment of wisdom, would hold questions he needed another’s answers to. However, these followers never considered the simple truth.

King Deshret did not understand humans. After all, how can gods and humans truly understand each other on the same level when biologically the two were on two completely different plains?

“My dear friend, how can we have dominion over creatures whom we cannot understand? Do you find that wise?”

He remembers those words the goddess of flowers had raised him upon a peaceful afternoon. Deshret knew she was right, humans were weak compared to gods, but because they were weak they became complex. It was that unknown difference between god and humans that bred the potential for disharmony.

He supposed that was the reason your creation caused quite the commotion among the three friends and Jinn.

For upon your birth from the nilotpala lotuses at the feet of your mistress, you wept. Your fresh eyes overflowing with tears from the moment they opened, stunning the Jinn and the goddess of flowers. You, who was born with the body of an adult, wept like a human newborn who cried from the violent impact of emotions that welcomed them into the world.

Upon this revelation, your mistress knelt down to cup your face in her hands, eyes wide with astonishment and jaw slacked.

“You… you can feel human emotions…” Her warm fingers brushed the tears off your soft cheeks.

From that moment onwards you served a crucial role to the three lords of the alliance kingdoms, you were their mirror to the human heart. When the gods found themselves stumped upon a human concept, you were there to explain. Hate, love, grief, you told them everything the human heart held, reflecting your felt wisdom upon them.

However, of the three gods, it was King Deshret who had the least understanding of the human heart. Perhaps that was why the goddess of flowers had stationed you to the left of the king. To answer his inquiries about those weak complex creatures.

Gazing upon the hologram manifested in front of him, Deshret watched the day-to-day bustle of the humans in his kingdom. While the king did not understand humans, he understood that they were his responsibility to look after, protect, and care for.

He watched as a laborer, skin tanned from moving heavy bricks in the unforgiving sun, rushed towards the figure of a woman with calloused hands, from weaving cloth all day, which held a basket of fruits and bread. The exhaustion disappeared from the man’s face as he greeted the woman, her face turning tender in return as she gestured to the basket.

A smile broke through the hardened face of the large man upon seeing the basket, he reached for her hand and she intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked together as one.

A crease appeared between the brows of the king, as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to approach closer.

“Tell me Jinni, what troubles are plaguing my kingdom so much that a man is moved to joy over the simple sight of bread and fruit? Have the harvest this year been lacking? Have there been less gold for the common people?” He inquired.

You turned your eyes away from the hologram and towards your lord.

“No, they were simply happy to see each other, my lord.”

The lazy glance Deshret cast your way told you that he still did not understand, so you continued.

“The man was overjoyed to see that the woman he loves had remembered which fruits and breads he favored, and she was happy that she made him happy.”

“That was all? That simple?” His teal eyes questioning.

“Yes, it is the small actions that mean the most.” You offered him a reassuring smile.

Your answer only sought to confuse him further, this was why Deshret believed he could never understand humans. How could mere mortals experience more joy from being gifted a piece of bread, than he had from having miles of silk, baskets of gold, and fertile lands placed at the feet of his grand throne?

As the king walked along the paved paths in his palace gardens, four guards by his side in each cardinal direction, and you behind and to the left of him. His grand strides brought about an air of power and confidence as the linen flowed about his figure.

The marching of the guards and their golden armor contrasted by the jingle of bells that hung from your ankles filled the void of silence. Then along the path almost hidden by the tall flowers, sat a young boy, who had not reached the age to develop words, babbling to himself as he waved a stick in his chubby hands. Suddenly the child halted all movement, seemingly staring at nothing in particular, it was as if he had turned to stone.

Deshret paused his movement, and in sync the king’s entourage halted in their positions. He wanted to see just what would happen next with this child. It was faint at first, a shaky breath then a low whimpered followed until at last the child opened his mouth and let out a great wail. The child’s plump cheeks were wet as they began to get flushed with a hue of red, the cries his small body released straining against his lungs.

A leaf that had detached from a branch had yet to hit the ground when the figure of a place servant dashed from behind a corner. The servant dove to her knees as she brought the child into her arms, cooing and bouncing him against her chest, paying no heed to the dirt staining her white linen dress. The child had dropped his stick as he grasped tiny handfuls of his mother's dress, muffling his cries as he pressed his face into her. The servant continued to bounce him as his breathing grew calmer, it was then that the servant noticed the presence of the great king.

In a panic the servant raised to her feet, the child still tightly clutched in her arms, as she bowed deeply begging the king to forgive her for her insolence.

“Shall I throw her into the dungeons for trespassing in the private gardens?” A guard asked.

“There is no need,” Deshret waved her away.

Thanking the king profusely for his mercy, the servant rushed to get out of his sight, cradling her child protectively. With a flick of his wrist, he called you to his side once more.

“Why did the child wail so sadly?” His eyes still lingering at the corner the servant disappeared behind.

“His small body was overwhelmed by emotions, my lord.”

“Have I frightened the child?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “He cried because he was overwhelmed by loneliness and the feeling of the unknown. The child cannot form words yet, thus he cannot match words to his emotions. So he cried for his mother, for he knows she will soothe the prickling feeling of frustration.”

Deshret paused as he thought for a moment. The guards standing still at their positions around their king.

“Was that how you felt back then?” He was referring to the moment you took your first breath.

“Yes, my lord.” Your eyes twinkled with a smile, joy felt from your lord’s surmise.

Dawning a cloak that hid his grand stature and identity, King Deshret strolled among the streets of his kingdom. Every once in a while he believed that it was crucial for a ruler to walk in the footsteps of his people, to examine the condition of his kingdom from beyond his golden throne. He had even requested that you remove the bells from your ankles to not draw attention as you trailed behind him.

He walked through the crowded marketplace of hollering merchants and haggling customers trying to get the best prices, you making care to not stray too far from his left. As the edge of the market came the concentration of the crowd diminished, and he felt a bit more relaxed.

He gazed curiously back into the denser crowd, observing the ever-changing expressions on the people’s faces. Suddenly, a large figure pushed the sea of people, hollering like an animal in pain.

“Help! A doctor! Someone get me a doctor! My daughter! Please! My daughter!”

In the scarred arms of the warrior lay the limp body of a young girl, not a day past the age of seven. As the crowd cleared out of his way, one hundred pairs of eyes focused their attention on the shouting warrior. His scarred face looked through the crowd for someone to save his child, being met with one hundred pitiful looks.

“Anyone? Please! Call a doctor! Please save my daughter!”

A thin man raised his hand as he maneuvered his body through the gaps in the crowd, stopping in front of the towering man. The thin man reached his hand towards the neck of the limp girl, eyes meeting the father’s as if asking for silent permission. The scarred man gave a quick nod, eyes filled with desperate hope. The doctor held two thin fingers against the cold neck of the girl, searching diligently for a pulse, for a singular proof of life. Instead, he was met with stiff, cold flesh. Removing his hand, he pressed his lips into a thin line before looking back at the scarred man’s face.

“I am sorry, your daughter is already started her journey into Duat (the realm of the dead).”

“No… no, no, no, no, please! Please tell me it’s not too late! She can be saved no?” The desperate father harshly clasped a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, shaking the thin man.

The doctor could only silently shake his head. The man’s eyes wide with despair then narrowed with rage, then as his facial expression relaxed a hollow void began to fill his eyes. Sinking to the sandy path arms clutching around the husk that once was a bundle of joy, the warrior who had faced countless battles, as shown by the marks all along his body, wept pitifully. Around him slowly, the crowd began to move once again, tearing their eyes away from the scene as if to give the father a semblance of privacy.

King Deshret flicked his wrist, calling you to his side. He felt no movement, confused he turned towards you, only to see your sobbing eyes still pinned on the scene in front of you. A pained expression tugged down at the corners of your lips that usually held a small smile.

“Why do you weep, Jinni?”

“I weep for the father whose daughter, death had snatched too soon from his arms.” Your voice low like a hush.

“Why do you weep for him?”

“Because he is in pain, a child torn away from their parent opens a wound in the heart.”

“The man is a strong warrior, he can sire another child. There is no need to weep for a child that could not survive.”

“My lord, a child can never be replaced, she will never go back to her father’s arms. A broken pot can be remade, moldy bread can be thrown out, but a dead flower can never bloom again.” Your eyes never left the figure of the mourning father, tears continuing to darken the stones on the path.

Deshret opened his mouth ready to inquire more but then shut it just as quickly. He sensed that inquiring more would only cause the tears to flow heavier.

He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you.

Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided.

“My lord, I beg of you to stop. This path you walk will only bring about more pain. My mistress, the goddess of flowers, has left this world. To ignore the truth while in search of knowledge forbidden will cause ruin.” You gripped onto the linen that pooled at his feet as you pleaded on your knees with the mourning king.

“... Leave this palace, foolish Jinni.” Those were the last words he ever spoke to you.

Yes, that was the word, foolish. That word does not describe you, no, it described him. A foolish king that did not understand his own heart. Foolish king that gambled everything and lost. His kingdom and riches shallowed by the raging sand storms, his people poisoned with madness (forbidden knowledge) by his own hands, and the once proud and all-mighty king no longer even had a physical body.

It was quiet in the temple where King Deshret hovered, he already knew what must be done to save his people, to save his people from himself as the forbidden knowledge pulsed like poison through his conscious.

“We meet once more, my lord.” You stepped in front of him.

He thought he would never see you again after he casted you out of the palace, your appearance stayed faithfully to how he remembered. But you were a bit more haggard, hands more collapsed, skin duller. You must have been exhausting your powers to try to mitigate the madness that plagued the humans you loved so much. Despite the fact you barely had the power to maintain your physical form, your eyes still twinkled as you called out to him.

“I shall aid you, my lord. I will be the vessel for your sacrifice.”

This means you were prepared to die alongside him, he knew it, and you knew it too. Mutually understanding that a great sacrifice was required for a chance of survival for the people of the red sand. Outstretching your hands to the star-like manifestation of Deshret, you signaled that you were ready. He slowly descended into your cupped palms, as a pure light began to engulf the room and your figures.

He no longer had arms to hold you, even though he deeply wished to. As he felt his essence and yours slowly began to break apart into dust like sand, a fleeting thought passed through his mind, brought up by a scene he had witnessed many years ago with you.

In a different time,

a different place,

a different world…

Could he hold your hand while you walk together as one?

...

“....er”

“.....tham?”

“Alhaitham!”

His teal eyes snapped open, meeting yours as you stood in the doorway of his home office. Concern was written clearly on your expression, he must have dozed off while he was translating the text that was half finished on his desk.

“What’s wrong dear?” You moved closer, pressing your palm against his forehead feeling for signs of a fever.

Nahida was held snuggly in your other arm as her green eyes observed her father’s face, aranara doll dangling loosely in her grip.

“Is papa sick?” Nahida questioned, beginning to stir in your arms.

Words just would not form from his throat as he continued to stare into your eyes, his usually stoic face was replaced with a dumbstruck expression. Which only concerned you further, he observed as your brow began to furrow more, palms shifting trying to get a better gauge of his temperature.

“Haitham, are you unwell? If so you should rest, me and Nahida can do the grocery shopping by ourselves.”

No, he did not want you to leave his side, at that moment he never again want to be apart from you. He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, removing it from his forehead as he stood up.

“There is no need for such concern, I was just distracted, beloved.” He took Nahida from your arm and into his, shifting her into a secure hold.

“Papa is healthy, now let us get the groceries before the market closes.”

He heard you sigh, muttering something about how you worried that your husband was over-working himself. A silly concern, as if there was one thing he treasured close to the level of you and his daughter, it would be a healthy work-life balance.

During the whole trip to the grocery store, Alhaitham was still a bit lost in thought. Movements a bit more relaxed and absent-minded than usual, Nahida still being carried in his arm as you pushed the cart. He found his eyes trailing towards the shiny wedding ring on your finger, with an emerald gem that matched the one present on his finger as well.

You had stopped in front of the display of fruits, concentrating on which fruit was the ripest and how to get the most value out of your money. Alhaitham found his hand itching to reach for yours, he did not try to suppress that desire. Allowing his hand to intertwine his long fingers with yours, wedding rings clinking together.

A look of surprise appeared on your face as you turned toward your ashen-haired lover. He was never really one for public displays of affection, so he could not fault you for your confusion, but he felt a smile tug at his lips as you accepted his actions with no further questioning. Returning your attention back to the piles of fruit waiting for your judgment.

Alhaitham felt at peace standing hand in hand with you under the fluorescent lights, as the sounds of other shoppers blended with the soft pop music from the store speakers.

A simple wish had been fulfilled.

“Oh! This orange looks quite nice doesn’t it?”

“It is starting to mold on the underside.”

“Eh?-”

fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham angst #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #alhaitham x yn #vivalabunbunfics

759 notes · View notes

autumnshighlady · 2 months

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 24)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris is now High Lord, but the three of you have a serious talk

warnings: Feysand slander, tooth-rotting fluff and adorableness to make up for the emotional last few chapters

word count: 5.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: to those of you who thought the last chapter was the end, do not fear! There's still 5-10 more chapters to go. But the poor reader finally gets a break. This is a chill chapter with lots of fluff as a little treat, enjoy

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

It had been three days since Eris killed Beron in the dungeons. After it was done, the new High Lord ordered Azriel to take you to your room, where you would be guarded and seen by servants for your injuries. You had protested, wanting to join your mates in dealing with the aftermath of the days’ events, but were quickly shot down.

“Absolutely not.” Eris had said sternly. “You have been beaten senseless and need time to heal. There are going to be lots of angry individuals and people attempting to challenge me, and I will not have you anywhere near that. We will find you when things settle down, I promise.”

Additionally, he had mentioned that he would be blaming his father and brother’s death on Hybern assassins – they had snuck into the castle in an attempt to wipe out the Vanserra bloodline while they slept. The story was that Beron had been slain during his late night walk around the dungeons, the assassins had attempted to kill you as well, but Malgorm died defending you. Hence an explanation for your injuries and a way to keep you sheltered from the chaos of Eris’s transition to High Lord.

The idea that Malgorm would be perceived as a noble hero in the narrative made you roll your eyes, but Eris assured you that there wasn’t a single individual in this court who didn’t know how vile Malgorm truly was. It made you feel slightly better.

You had been bored out of your mind for the past three days. Your injuries were almost fully healed, thanks to the work of the healers. Nesta had come to visit you a few times, brushing your hair or holding you in her arms until you fell asleep again. You yearned for the additional comfort of Eris’s presence, but he was understandably busy. Nesta insisted he was remorseful for his lack of time to see you, but you could feel it through the bond already.

Part of you was still angry with Eris for hiding his knowledge of the bond. Deep down, you knew he did it out of concern for your safety, but even though you had come to terms with the idea of Eris being your mate, the betrayal still stung. You tried to ignore it – Eris had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to help you and Nesta, the least you could do was give him the benefit of the doubt. But with everything that had happened, there hadn’t been a good time to talk about it with him yet.

Lirilla had also paid you one or two visits over the past three days. She had thanked you over a dozen times, tearfully expressing how she owed you an eternal debt for bringing her back at the cost of never seeing your own mother again if you were to die. You had teared up in response, a hundred different emotions running through you. At first, you had expected to feel some faint resentment, knowing your mother’s soul had brought back the Lady of Autumn.

But there was none. In fact, you had an opportunity few others had – to say a proper goodbye to a departed loved one, and have one final moment wrapped in their embrace. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t cried into your pillow several times over the memory, clinging onto it as if it would fade away into the breeze. But somehow, having Lirilla alive and present helped you.

Night began to fall on the third day since Beron’s death, and it took you great effort to pry yourself out of the warm bubble bath a servant had drawn from you. Lavender and mint clung to your scent from the healing soaps you had used to scrub yourself raw, still feeling the sticky sensation of Malgorm’s blood being painted over you. No matter how many times you bathed, it wouldn’t go away.

After putting on a pale grey nightgown, you settled into bed to read when a soft knock sounded at your door. The inside of your chest warmed and fluttered like a cat purring, and you felt the bond glow with happiness. You knew who it was before the door even opened. “Come in, Nesta.” You called out, propping yourself up on the lush green pillows.

Nesta entered your room, still wearing her dark red dress from dinner. Half her hair was pulled back into a braid, the other half cascading down her back in elegant waves. In her hand was a plate of fresh strawberries, the unmistakable rich smell of chocolate coming from the small bowl beside the fruit.

Your mouth watered. “Please tell me those are for me.”

“No, I brought them all this way just to make you watch me eat them in front of you.” Nesta said dryly, closing the door behind her. “Of course they’re for you. I snagged them from dessert. Figured you’d want some.”

“Obviously.” You said, shifting more to the centre of the bed and patting the space next to you. The bed was absolutely massive, leaving tons of room for the female to come sit beside you. After kicking off her shoes and sliding under the thick covers, she settled the plate carefully on her lap. Wordlessly, you curled into Nesta’s side, resting your head on her chest and sighing contently. Slender fingers came up to tangle themselves in your hair, gently caressing the locks. Nesta’s free hand reached down and grabbed a strawberry, dipping it in the chocolate before bringing it to your lips. Eagerly, you lifted your head slightly and moaned as warm dark chocolate hit your tongue, along with the sweet taste of the freshest strawberry you’d ever had.

“Mmm…” You mumbled, swallowing the delicacy. “I could die happy right now.”

With the hand that was stroking your hair, Nesta smacked you lightly. “Don’t you dare even joke about that,” She scolded. “You’ve had too many close calls for that to be even remotely funny.”

“Whatever. Feed me another chocolate covered strawberry and I’ll shut up about it.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but obliged, and you rested your head back on her chest after swallowing. You couldn’t help but notice how different she was now from when you first met her in the House of Wind. Her body had filled out, soft flesh hiding the brittle bones that used to stick out from underneath her pale skin. For Nesta to be relaxed enough to be this close to you as a huge change. She was not on edge, body tense and flinching with every shift in movement. Even when you had tentatively held her hand or brushed your knee against hers while in the Night Court, she seemed afraid of the contact, always tensing before relaxing into you.

Now, she showed no signs of anxiety. You knew that physical touch was not something that Nesta was used to, but you could tell through the bond that she was comfortable doing it with you.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Nesta asked, noting your silence.

“You.” You said truthfully.

She snorted. “Care to elaborate?”

“You’re different now.” You admitted, choosing your words carefully.

But her voice was curious, not defensive as she spoke. “How so?”

“I feel like you’re more… you. You’re not putting up a wall anymore. You seem more comfortable in your own skin, that’s all.”

You felt Nesta rest her cheek on the top of your head. “I do. You’ve helped me with that.”

You shook your head. “No, Nesta. That was all you.”

“Perhaps. But you being there by my side throughout all of this has helped.”

You hesitated before asking the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now. “Do you have any regrets about doing this?”

A moment of silence filled the room. Part of you had constantly asked yourself if you were dragging Nesta into your plan too much. As much as you knew she wanted out of the Night Court, to switch courts so quickly after having her entire life uprooted by the Cauldron was a drastic change.

“No.” Nesta said confidently. “Not for a second. I have no desire to return to the Night Court. While I will always love my sisters, it is clear that they care about their image more than what is truly best for me. I have no place there in their little found family, and that does not bring me any sadness. Now, I am free to make my own decisions free of their scrutiny, and that brings me comfort. So no, I don’t regret taking this journey with you.”

You closed your eyes, the rhythmic stroking of Nesta’s fingers through your hair making you tired. “We have to talk about Cassian at some point. About all of us, about what comes next.”

You felt Nesta sigh. You knew she didn’t want to talk about Cassian, and neither did you. But he was convinced that he is Nesta’s mate, something that could potentially bring a threat. If he invoked a blood duel, Eris would certainly win with his new power as High Lord. But you? You stood no chance against the Lord of Bloodshed.

“You’re right.” Nesta said slowly. “But I think we need to wait for Eris before we have this conversation. It involves him, too.”

“You’re right. When will I get to see him?”

“He said he’d come here after his last meeting. He should be here soon.”

You sat up, reaching for the plate and grabbing another chocolate covered strawberry. You felt a bit of the chocolate smear on the side of your lip as you ungracefully popped the strawberry into your mouth, attempting to keep the expensive duvet free of mess.

“You’ve got something on your face.” Nesta snorted.

You rolled your eyes at her. “Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you so much for pointing–”

Your sentence trailed off as Nesta reached down and slowly wiped the chocolate off your lip with her finger. You watched with wide eyes as she then took that chocolate covered finger and closed her lips around it, sucking the chocolate off. Her blue-grey eyes never left yours as she did so, making your body tingle.

“That was one of the top five hottest things you've done.” You said, causing Nesta to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, you have a list now, do you?” She murmured, amusement across her sharp face.

You shrugged nonchalantly, but heat flooded your cheeks. Truthfully, everything Nesta did was absolutely mesmerising to you. It was almost impossible to actually think of five moments that stood out. “Maybe.” Was all you mumbled in response.

Nesta simply chuckled, then leaned down and sensually pressed her lips to yours. You moaned into her mouth, melting into the touch. It was different from the tender two kisses you shared previously – ones that were gentle and soft, as if you were both afraid that the other would disappear from in front of you at any moment. No, this kiss was more passionate, sending goosebumps up your arms despite the warmth of the room. She tasted like chocolate and wine, and it took all your self control not to simply melt right there and then.

When Nesta eventually pulled away, she cradled your head back into her chest. You were so comfortable, encased in the expensive fabric of the lush bedsheets and cuddled up against Nesta’s side. A distinct knock on the door snapped you back to consciousness. “Three guesses who that is.” You muttered groggily.

Nesta snorted, but called out, “Come in, Eris.”

Surely enough, the door swung open to reveal Eris. His red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was dressed in his sleepwear of a white tunic with long, billowy sleeves tucked into loose brown pants. Despite the casual look, the soft hum of power coming from the male made it hard to mistake him as anything other than a High Lord.

“How’d you know it was me?” Eris asked, closing the door behind him as he sauntered into your room.

“Oh please, you knock like a pampered princess.” You said playfully, popping another strawberry in your mouth.

Eris narrowed his eyes at the delicately placed bowl of melted chocolate on Nesta’s thigh. “Please tell me you’re not getting chocolate on my expensive bed sheets.”

“You’re High Lord, can’t you just use your fancy new power to remove any spills?”

“Ugh, please don’t remind him he’s High Lord.” Nesta insisted, rolling her eyes. “It’ll get to that pretty head of his and he’ll become even more insufferable than he already is. Besides, he hardly needs reminding with how much he throws his new title in everyone’s faces every two seconds.”

You laughed, causing Eris to look down at you from where he was standing at the end of the bed, pressing a pale hand to his chest with mock hurt. “Your cruelty wounds me,” He sighed. “I do not know what I did to deserve such treatment.”

“You make it too easy.” You patted the space next to you on your other side. Eris scoffed, but peeled back the covers and crawled under them anyway, sliding right next to you and resting his back against one of the many pillows behind you. You leaned forward and grabbed another chocolate covered strawberry, bringing it up in front of his face. “Here you go, oh mighty High Lord.” You said dramatically.

The male raised an eyebrow, but kept his amber eyes on yours as he leaned forward and gently took the fruit from your hand with his mouth, lips brushing your fingers ever so slightly. You suppressed a shiver at the sensation, trying to ignore Eris’s moan as he savoured the rich chocolate. You straightened up, no longer leaning against Nesta’s chest but instead still keeping your shoulder pressed against hers.

“Delicious.” Eris muttered after swallowing. “And exactly what I needed after today.”

“What did you get up to today?” You asked. “Or any of the past three days, since I haven’t been allowed outside of this room to see for myself.”

Eris shot you a light glare. “As both of us have explained to you several times, you are in here because we need to wait until things settle for a few days. Right now, you are vulnerable. Both physically and in terms of your position as an unwed and unengaged female. While I intend to eliminate anyone with the same mindset as my father regarding females of your status who refuse to change, they might not yet be revealing themselves. Many have tried to challenge me these past few days, and every one of them has been turned to ash. I need to ensure nobody will come after you.”

You sighed, knowing Eris was right. A female like you without ties to a male would be an easy target for those looking to cling to Beron’s ways. You briefly wondered exactly how many people Eris had slain in his first few days of being High Lord, but dared not ask. “Did everyone believe the story about Hybern assassins being responsible?” You chose to ask instead.

“Mostly.” Eris said. “Those who seemed suspicious have been dealt with. But it matters not. I am High Lord now, and the court knows that if they dare question how I came to be in this position, they will not live to see the next sunrise.”

“So what happens now?” Nesta spoke up. “With the three of us, I mean. And we still have the Night Court to deal with, not to mention Cassian.”

“Given your sister’s situation with her pregnancy, I believe the Night Court will be occupied by that for the next while.” Eris said. “She is due soon, is she not?”

Nesta nodded, but said nothing.

“Can we help Feyre?” You asked hesitantly, feeling Nesta’s turmoil through the bond. While she did not part on good terms with her sister, you could tell she felt anguish at the idea of Feyre dying because of this pregnancy. And as much as you disliked the High Lady, you did not wish such a fate upon her either.

Eris spoke with caution. “I have spoken with our best healers. And to be truthful, yes, we have the means of removing the baby surgically rather than having little Archeron try to deliver the child naturally. But I do not think it’s a question of whether or not we can, but whether or not we should.”

You blinked in surprise, feeling Nesta tense beside you. “What do you mean?” You asked. “If we have a way to save her life, why not use it?”

Eris shifted slightly, turning on his side to face you. “Because it is leverage we can use against them. A bargaining tool. We could promise to save the High Lady’s life on the condition that they leave us alone, permanently. That they are never to enter our court without permission, including the brute.”

You bit your tongue. Nesta was silent beside you, her expression unreadable. “Nesta?” You asked quietly, pressing your arm into her. “What do you think we should do?”

There was a minute of silence before she straightened her spine, grey eyes finally landing on you and Eris as she spoke. “The Feyre I knew who went under the mountain is gone.” She said, her voice like steel. “Once she accepted the mating bond, she changed. Rhys changed her. The Feyre I knew would never just sit by and let her mate make the decisions for her. The Feyre I knew would never have sent me to be locked up if Rhys hadn’t planted the idea in her head first. She used Elain as a bargaining chip to strong arm me into doing her bidding. If she has no qualms about using our lives for her own gain, then I have no issue doing the same with hers. But under one condition. Feyre has to agree to it. Hers is the only opinion that matters. Rhys cannot accept the terms, only she can. It will be her choice, and her choice alone.”

Eris nodded respectfully. “Very well then. Once everything settles further over the next week or so, I will set up a meeting with the Night Court and we can propose our bargain.”

“Cassian can’t be there.” Nesta said suddenly. “I can’t see him. Please.”

“We won’t let him try and take you,” You grabbed her hand, holding it reassuringly. “I promise.”

Nesta bit her lip, worry lining her features. “He thinks we’re mates. I don’t trust him not to try something.”

“Cassian does not stand a chance against us.” Eris said calmly, fiddling with the emerald ring on his finger. “Although I am curious as to why he is acting like a mated male when Estelle said he is not mated to you, Nesta. There’s something else at work here, maybe having him at the meeting will allow us to figure out what it is.”

Nesta hesitated, but exhaled softly. “Fine. Cassian can be there. But the dragons will come to the meeting.”

“They will be delighted.” Eris chuckled. “I am sure they will happily eat anyone who dares protest against our lovely mating bonds.”

You went still, the soft sheets of the bed suddenly stifling. Aside from your brief moment after saving Lirilla, you hadn’t yet acknowledged or discussed your mating bond with Eris yet. With Nesta it was easier, as you had plenty more time together to mull things over. But with Eris, it all happened so fast. The High Lord duties swept him away from you before you could even propose the discussion.

“Eris…” You said carefully after a few moments. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew we were mates?”

At first, the male did not reply. Eris Vanserra usually had a witty reply for everything, a silver tongue that came up with a response within a half second no matter how unprepared he was for the question. So you turned to face him. Eris’s expression was one of regret, tender sadness in his usually stone cold eyes. But the mask was off. He had no need for it anymore.

“There were so many things happening at once.” Eris said slowly. “I did not know how you would react, truthfully. We all needed to be focused, just until we were safe from my father. I did not want to risk compromising what I’ve been working towards for years. It is selfish, I am well aware. But it is the truth. If you knew about the bond, who knows how different things could have been? And if anyone found out, it would be used against us. I could not let that happen.”

The High Lord swallowed thickly, his slender hand gently coming to cover your fingers as he continued. “I know what a breach of trust this was, little fox, especially after you put your faith in me. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it, because I selfishly cannot stand the idea of you hating me for it.”

You inhaled a shaky breath, wetness lining your eyes. You felt Nesta rubbing your back comfortingly, as if she, too, felt your pain through the bond. “I don’t hate you for it.” You said quietly. “I understand your reasoning, I just wish none of this had to be this way.”

Eris smiled sadly. “I wish that very much, too. Although this path has led me to you, to Nesta. So despite everything, I have no other regrets about how things played out.”

“Me too.” Nesta said from behind you, squeezing your shoulder. “It was all worth it to get out of that situation, to end up with both of you.”

Your heart fluttered as you smiled. Even though the past months have been hell, they lead you to Nesta and Eris. Everything you had been through, it was all worth it to get here. Because you knew that even though the horrors you had endured would keep you up at night, you’d have your mates to ease the pain.

But your smile faded as reality sunk back in. “What about the wedding?” You asked. “If you two are getting married, where does that leave me? I know marriage is a sham at the end of the day, and the mating bond is what truly connects us. But I admit that I will not feel like an equal if you two are wed.”

You felt the bed shift as Eris straightened beside you. A hint of a blush came over his cheeks as he coughed before speaking. “Well, I thought of a solution for that. It’s a bit outlandish, and something that would definitely make the majority of this court lose their minds over it. And don’t be afraid to tell me I am a fool for this, Mother knows everyone else will be–”

“Eris.” Nesta said sharply, cutting off the male’s rambling. “Spit it out already.”

You could feel Eris’s nerves in your chest as if they were your own. You had never seen him so flustered before, so unsure of what to say.

“Well,” He continued, taking a deep breath. “It is not unheard of in Pythian’s history for a High Lord to take two wives…”

“You’d want to marry both of us?” Nesta said incredulously.

Eris blushed further, his eyes narrowing angrily at the heat of his cheeks. “Well, it would be a good way to ensure you are both protected–”

“Stop.” You cut him off firmly, squeezing his hand. Eris was silenced immediately, doubt flickering in his eyes as if he were afraid this would happen. “Fuck the political scheming and doing everything for the sake of a plan. We’ve made it this far, guys. It’s time to think about what we want, not what we should do. So, Eris, what do you want?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have you both as my wives…”

Nesta snorted. “A heartfelt proposal, Eris. Well done.”

Eris shot a playful glare at the female. “Smartass. Watch it, or I’ll leave your finger without a ring and keep (Y/N) all to myself.”

“Oh, please. You’re too obsessed with me to do that.”

“I am afraid you are right, Nesta Archeron.”

The three of you laughed, the harmony of it echoing throughout the spacious room like a song. But Nesta’s serious tone returned, cutting the laughter off. “But seriously, Eris, are you proposing this because this is what you want, or because of the mating bond?”

Eris shifted as he reached forward, taking each of you and Nesta’s hands in his own. The authority of the High Lord rang in his voice as he spoke, his amber eyes meeting Nesta’s blue-grey ones. “Make no mistake, I am happy about the mating bond. But it does not create this desire from nothing. It merely amplifies what is already there. The desire to marry you, Nesta, began the day we danced together in the Hewn City. I knew then that I wanted you as my equal at my side. I wanted you because you were you, sharp tongue and all, not because a mating bond made it be so.”

Eris then turned to face you. “The desire to marry you, (Y/N), began the day you came to me with your plan. I saw your resilience, your brilliant mind, and I wanted you. Not for your magic, or your connection to the Mother. I didn’t even know you were my mate then, or that you possessed a unique power, and I wanted you. My desire for both of you did not come from wanting something from you, or because of a mating bond. You asked me what I wanted, (Y/N), and this is it. I want you and Nesta as my equals, my wives, my High Ladies by my side. If that is what you wish, of course.”

You teared up, seeing Nesta do the same. Eris spoke so fiercely, so passionately it pulled at your heart strings. All this time, you had prepared yourself to see Eris and Nesta marry for political convenience, leaving you on the side with your secret ancient vows to Nesta that could never be shared with the outside world. You had prepared yourself to put aside your feelings for Eris, and your feelings for Nesta, to once again make a sacrifice for the ones you loved.

But you didn’t have to do that. Somehow, along the way Nesta and Eris had fallen for each other. And you had fallen for Eris, and he for you. The bond the three of you shared was deeper than any mating bond – it was a bond of survival, of fighting for a better life. A life you now couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone else.

“I would like that very much.” You said through tears, squeezing Eris’s hand.

“And I as well.” Nesta said softly. “Although I never thought of being High Lady.”

“You are both free to pass on that,” Eris said. “It would simply be an added bonus. But you both have enough power to be my equal as High Ladies, and you would be free to be as involved or removed from court politics as you wish.”

You glanced at Nesta, meeting her eyes. You knew Nesta had never possessed any ambitions to become a leader. She was content to simply exist in her own life, as long as she had control over it.

But this opportunity Eris was presenting could be used to help people. All you wanted was to make Autumn safe for females in a way Rhysand failed to do with his own court. Perhaps instead of relying on Eris to make it happen, you could do it yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You said.

“Me neither.” Nesta replied, nodding. “If my sister can be High Lady, so can I.”

“Feyre Archeron does not know how to run a court,” Eris snorted. “You’re the sister much better suited to the job.”

“One more thing.” You interjected, turning to Nesta. “Technically, we are already married due to the spell we used to create the daemati bond. But I would like to redo it, with a proper wedding. That way, the world will know that we aren’t just married to Eris, but to each other as well. I want everyone to know you’re just as much mine as Eris’s. If you’ll have me.”

It was not how you could have ever imagined proposing to Nesta, fumbling over your words so casually as if you were suggesting trying a new food for lunch. But it felt right. You wanted to be married to Nesta properly, in the eyes of the world. True, you had known her for less than a year. But you knew in your heart you would want to marry her eventually – why not now while she was already marrying Eris?

Nesta’s lips twitched for a second, as if she were instinctively fighting off her smile. But then her face loosened, and she allowed her smile to stretch across her cheeks fully. “Of course I’ll have you, you fool.” She said softly. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”

“In that case, I shall inform the priestess so she can modify the ceremony.” Eris said, grinning in a way that made your heart sing. “If my father could see this, he would lose his mind. As will many members of the court, probably. Having two High Ladies married to each other and me will be a lot for them to comprehend.”

“It’s actually possible, right?” Nesta asked him. “For all three of us to be married?”

“There is no law or religious text that prevents it, my dear.” Eris reassured her. “It will be legitimate, I swear.”

You smiled, another tear of happiness slipping down your cheek. “So this is really happening, we’re all getting married?”

Eris nodded. “Yes, love. We are. And we can take as much time as we want to plan the wedding so it’s exactly how we want it, not how my father wanted it to be. It will be a day about all three of us.”

It was like a heavy boulder had been lifted off your chest. All of the anxiety of the past few weeks was gone, replaced by pure happiness at the idea of marrying Nesta and Eris. Before, the talk of a wedding filled you with dread, a reminder that you were engaged to a cruel male who would delight in torturing you however he could. The idea of a wedding made you feel sick, and sad at the same time knowing you’d have no say in any of the planning.

But with Eris as High Lord and your soon to be new position as High Lady, everything would be different. You would be able to pick out your dress, the flowers, the cake, everything. After months and months of having no control over your life, you were finally taking the reins back.

You wrapped your arms around Eris, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “Thank you.” You muttered.

When Eris pulled away, his amber eyes burned into yours. It ignited something in you, making your blood sing as his voice dropped as he spoke. “I know by tradition I am supposed to wait until the wedding to kiss my brides. But I would really like to kiss you now. Both of you.”

“Fine by me.” You said, your heart racing and drowning out the sound of your own voice.

Eris smirked, his hands coming up to either side of your face to cup your jaw. Towering over you, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your own. Instantly, it was like a tidal wave of lust surged through the bond, as you melted into his mouth. It wasn’t the seductive, claiming kiss you had expected an Autumn court male like Eris to give. It was just as sensual, but softer, like a warm hearth rather than blazing wildfire. It was a kiss of love, of promise for a better world.

Your hands brushed the fabric of Eris’s tunic as he kissed you, and you felt the male shiver beneath your touch. When his lips finally abandoned yours, you let out an involuntary whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Eris purred, his thumb stroking your cheek. “There will be plenty of time for more later.”

The High Lord then turned towards Nesta, taking her hands in his own. You watched as he leaned forward, kissing her with the same tenderness he had with you. Nesta’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, her body relaxing. They were like a scene from a painting. Nesta’s wavy locks contrasting with the fiery straight hair of Eris, their heads angled so perfectly as their lips moulded together with longing.

As you watched your mates kiss, you felt no jealousy. No anger. No feeling of exclusion. You only felt love – happiness that the two people you cared for most loved each other just as much as you loved them.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @red-bees @daughterofthemoons-stuff @bloodicka

77 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Make a wish: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Requested as a part of my celebration: Dick Grayson + midnight

Warnings: spoiler alert, there's some innuendo, but nothing explicit. And it's a bit short, given my standards (1.068 words)

***

10 minutes to midnight.

She was lying in her bed, with eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She could not sleep, but truly she did not want to. Instead of turning onto the other side and falling into the arms of Morpheus, dreaming sweet dreams she was tossing and turning in the dark. Thinking.

Waiting.

8 minutes to midnight

Dick was out on the street of Bludhaven, patrolling as usual. After a couple years of a relationship with a vigilante you kinda get used to that, but the worry and fear can never truly go away. And on nights like this she was way more tuned to all the sounds coming from the outside. Catching the potential victim’s screams for help or the sounds of crashing cars and accidents, all by default. Even the barking of a dog in the neighborhood was multiplied today, making it seem like it was a monster from hell rather than just a house animal.

With every other breath her heart was picking up the pace, creating crazy scenarios of what could happen.

Please, be safe. Please, be safe…..

5 minutes to midnight

Her mind was going crazy and she caught herself on counting the reflexes of the passing cars on the ceiling. Each of them drove by people, man or woman, civilians of crime lords. Some of them may need Dick’s help and protection tonight, but who was going to protect him.

2 minutes to midnight

She sighed deeply and get out from the warmth of bed, stepping onto the ironically adverse cold wooden floor, not bothering by searching for the slippers. Since she was wearing only Dick’s oversized T-shirt and some shorts the chill of the apartment made her shiver, but Y/N could not care less. There were more important things occupying her mind.

Engulfed in the reverie, the girl took a few steps towards he window, looking down into an empty street. So quiet, so peaceful and so omniscient at the same time.

Bludhaven was no Gotham, when she was born and raised, but it did not made it crime-free and she knew it well enough. After all, she was a lawyer dealing with some examples of it. The cruelty and ruthlessness of people was appalling and even though it should not, it always made her dwell on the unfairness and helplessness of the justice system. She was doing everything she possibly could so the perpetrators would get their punishment, but it did not always work out, and some of them found their way back onto the street, causing the same havoc and pain as before. Or worse.

And maybe the knowledge of the details of those atrocities was what made her worry about Dick twice as much.

1 minute to midnight

She closed her eyes and leaned forehead on the cold glass-panelled balcony door, warm breath making it fog instantly, clouding the world outside and for a moment, when she lift the lids all she could see was her own reflection. Dilated pupils, pale face and the imprint of the pillow on her cheek. Y/N smiled lightly at the other her.

And then she opened the door and stepped into the air, still bare foot and poorly clothed.

30 seconds to midnight

5, 4, 3, 2,1 ….

“Happy birthday, Dick.” She muttered into the night, hoping those words would find him safe wherever he may have been at this moment. “I love you….”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest, baby?” the voice was familiar but before her brain could catch up on the situation, the body acted out of instance and she almost tripped over her own legs. If it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapping around her and catching her, her romantic and nostalgic attitude would result in a forehead bump and possibly a twisted ankle.

“Di….I mean, Nightwing. What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my favorite girl.”

“Favorite, huh?” she raised an eyebrow at him “How many more are there?”

“Just a few here, but in Gotham….” He joked but she hit his chest making him stop “Auch! Is that how you treat the birthday boy?”

“No.” she shook her head and leaned forward to kiss him without any more inhibitions. His teasing could not deter her tonight.

“Mhm.” He groaned and smirked into the kiss “trying to convince me to leave the others?”

“Shut up” she muttered and yanked him closer by the shoulders feeling the muscle tension slowly let go as he reached around, embracing her and caressing the small of her back, getting dangerously close to her tushy, before she slapped his cheek lightly, out of pure instinct, quickly realizing her mistake.

“Auch!”

“Stop whining. It wasn’t even that hard.”

“Kiss to make it better?”

“You are one very needy birthday boy, aren’t you?” she muttered planting her lips on his face, but before she reached the destination he turned his head around so their mouths connected again.

“Hi, baby….” He smiled and leaned his forehead on hers “why are you up? And why are you outside? It’s cold, you’re gonna be sick” his arms around her tightened in an attempt to keep her warm.

“I was hoping you would swing by.” She muttered into his chest. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your wishes.”

“I think my greatest wish is already in my arms.”

“Tease….”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You are my present. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby boy. But.. does this mean you don’t want the gift I got for you?” she pouted “I bought it today.” She grabbed his hand and put it near the hem of the T-shirt, testing the waters, letting his fingers graze her soft, silky skin “it’s blue. You just need to make a wish and maybe, maybe it will come true. ” Y/N added, whispering in his ear.

“Baby…” he groaned “I need to go back on patrol….”

“Oh,…. I hope this won’t distract you…. Just imagining what is waiting for you here....in this oh, so cold and oh, so lonely, lonely night….”

“Oh, screw that!” he yelled, grabbing her sides and taking her straight into the apartment “it’s a quiet night either way. And it’s my birthday so I might as well take some time off.” The boy smiled predatory and threw his girl onto the bed.

Tonight he was going to have some different kind of workout.

#dc #dc imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #nightwing imagine #nightwing fanfiction

369 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 9 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (20)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, domination, murder ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

As he watched Criston Cole place the crown on his brother's head, he thought that the gods were laughing at them in the heavens. That it was impossible for them to miss the punishment for such sacrilege, to plant such a man on the throne with full knowledge of his ruin. The matter was, however, a foregone conclusion.

His brother had become a King.

He remembered the subsequent events only as if through a fog. The dragon emerging from the ground ready to devour them, the face of his father's cousin sitting on its back. He knew that they had lost, that god's punishment had descended on them faster than he had anticipated.

Yet nothing happened.

They were not burned.

As they rode inside the carriage back to the Red Keep he had the impression that he was dreaming it all, that it was some kind of nightmare, from which he was about to wake up, and that his father was still alive. However, the nightmare continued, his wife snuggled against his chest sobbed quietly.

He was not surprised.

They had no reason to celebrate.

Nevertheless, his mother organised a feast in honour of the newly crowned King; everyone sat down in a grave atmosphere, and the only person who seemed happy was Aegon. He chatted lightly with everyone, raising his cup towards the servant once in a while to pour him more wine.

He watched this with intense gaze full of disgust.

He clenched his hand into a fist as his brother addressed his wife directly; he had felt subconsciously since the day of their wedding that Aegon had tried to drag her to his bed, giving her a gentle signals that he was interested in her.

He trusted his wife completely and knew that she did not reciprocate this affection, but his strengthened position began to worry him.

He knew that Aegon was trying to get them off balance, mocking them and playing at their expense. He felt satisfaction at the sight of his wife responding to him without fear, feeling apparently no respect for him. He wanted to leave and spare her and himself this torment, but his brother's voice stopped him.

"I order you to stay. You will leave when I allow you to." He said in a tone that he had never heard from him before.

He turned to him slowly, looking at him over his shoulder, feeling the rage and fury flowing through his veins.

He thought he was a nobody, a zero, a pig on whose head someone put a crown.

He was already about to say it out loud when he saw his wife reach out to him under the table, looking at him imploringly, her face gentle and tired.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his outburst might cost them everything.

He was not alone now and he had to think of her safety too.

He sat back, humiliated and furious, his jaw and hands clenched into a fist. When he felt his wife's small hand on his knee, he placed his own on hers and intertwined their fingers, feeling that he needed her patience and support not to kill his brother with his bare hands.

He felt that he was slowly losing his temper, that he was slipping further and further into madness at the sight of what was happening around him.

When they returned to his chamber he felt drained of emotion and empty. It had been one of the most miserable days of his life, all the events of it and his thoughts sucking him deep into himself like an infinite black hole, swallowing everything that came near it. He didn't even notice when her wife's maid helped her remove her gown and they were finally left alone.

He saw out of the corner of his eye that she had approached him, sitting in front of the fireplace, absorbed in his own thoughts. He shuddered as she knelt before him and wanted to tell her to stop, having no desire for that kind of closeness, too devastated and tired.

However, he only opened his mouth and closed it when he saw that she laid her head on his thigh, embraced his knee and closed her eyes, cuddling into him. He stared at this sight wordlessly for a moment and felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

He thought fondly that she alone made a light burn in the darkness of his mind, as if someone in a windowless room had lit a candle.

Her flame was warm and bright, offering safety and hope.

He involuntarily reached towards her with his hand, resting so far on his armrest and combed through her hair, playing with her dark, soft curls. He heard her purr with contentment at this gentle caress; he knew that she needed his affection. This realisation, the fact that she sought comfort and refuge in him, made him feel himself again.

Her husband.

"Come here." He murmured, and she looked at him sleepily, slowly climbing into his lap, sitting on top of him with her arms around his neck. He slipped his hand into her hair and drew her close, hugging her like a small child, sheltering her in his arms. He closed his eye, feeling the warmth of her body, her scent, her slowly rising and falling breasts.

He thought that she was the only person with whom he truly calmed down and quietened himself.

He felt that her presence cut off his thinking for a moment, allowing him to relax, to take his mind off the burden of the responsibilities and experiences that he had faced.

Her support, even if not clothed in words, was from her whole being, her glances, her gestures.

"One day I will make you my queen." He whispered in a trembling voice.

He revealed to her what he had hidden deep in his heart.

His desire to be King.

His desire for her to be by his side when it became a reality.

He felt her tremble all over at his words; she lifted her head, glancing up at his face, her eyebrows arched in worry and uncertainty. He sighed quietly as she ran her hand over his scar, tips of her fingers tender and soft.

He trembled all over, terrified, catching her wrist quickly when he felt her hand grab his black eye patch, his ears rang, his heart pounding as if it was going to jump out of his chest, his breathing accelerated and uneven.

"No." He said quickly, surprised, terrified, concerned. He didn't understand what she wanted to do, why the sudden unexpected gesture. He saw her press her lips together at his reaction, shaking her head.

"If I am to support you with my whole self, if I am to become your queen, you can no longer hide from me who you are." She whispered and he felt his heart squeeze at the tone of her voice. He swallowed loudly, looking straight into her eyes.

If I am to become your Queen.

She considered it.

She had not rejected his proposal.

Never before in his life had he felt so torn. He wanted nothing more than for her to see him, for her to accept him, dispelling all doubts.

That he could finally not be afraid that she would see him without his eye patch.

That she would walk into his chamber just at the moment when the maester applied ointment to his eye socket, sore from constantly wearing the precious stone in it.

He always chose a time when he knew that she was enjoying her time with Helaena, but he feared that she would forget something or simply return early without warning.

He always hurried the master, impatient, glancing fearfully at the door, reassuring himself that her gentle and understanding nature would certainly allow her accept his appearance.

He was afraid, however, that deep down she would begin to despise him.

That their intimacy would no longer be so frequent, that she would no longer be so wonderfully wet at the sight of him, would not touch his scars with such tenderness, that he would feel that something had changed, that something had been irretrievably lost.

"… it's a repulsive sight." He choked out at last, heartbroken by this thoughts, looking at her pleadingly.

He saw, surprised, that she smiled at his words.

"I find it repulsive to see your brother-king, even though he has two eyes." She said calmly, a light amusement in her eyes.

He couldn't help himself and snorted at her words, shaking his head. He sighed heavily, looking at her again, his grip easing slightly.

It would be what it was meant to be, he thought.

He couldn't hide from her forever.

He drew in a quick breath and froze when, without waiting a moment, she slipped his eye patch off his head. He stared at her, looking for any sign of disgust or fear, anything to tell him that she had reacted as he had feared. She, however, seemed amazed and curious, not even flinching.

He sighed quietly, surprised, as she leaned over him and closed his eye, feeling his heart pounding hard as she began to kiss his eyelid, the stone in his eye, his scarred cheek. He felt his cock swell in his breeches, surprised by her reaction, by how tender and warm she was, completely helpless to her caresses.

"'Ābrazȳrys (wife)…'" He whispered softly, almost in pain, feeling that his throat tightened all over with fear of her cruel rejection.

He moaned low as he felt his wife sense his condition, the place between her thighs began to rub the buldge under his breeches with slowl back and forth strokes of her hips, making his manhood throb hard, ready to possess her, to feel her.

He heard her begin to pant quietly, clearly herself aroused by their proximity, his gaze dropped to her breasts. He licked his lower lip when he saw her hard nipples peeking out wonderfully through the thin material of her nightgown.

He slipped it off her one shoulder and clung immediately to her firm breast, running his tongue around her nipple, bringing out her sweet whine. He murmured loudly, making her soft skin tremble as he felt her hand tighten in his hair, pulling him closer to her, their hips rocking against each other faster and faster, his hands tightening on her buttocks, wanting to feel her harder.

"One day I will caress your soft breasts like this on the Iron Throne, sweet wife." He purred with delight, shuddering at the thought, imagining that they were not in his chamber now, but in the barely torch-lit throne room, sitting on his Iron Throne.

He quickly untied his breeches and slipped them down a little, feeling that he could take no more, his erection all swollen and sore with arousal.

His wife fortunately did not keep him waiting, she immediately rose above him, directing the tip of his manhood to her entrance. They both moaned loudly as she fell on top of him, sliding the fat head of his cock all the way in, her tight, fleshy walls making him throb hard inside her, her thighs all wet with her juices.

"− is that so? − the King will not fondle his mistresses in the privacy of the Throne Room? −" She exhaled, beginning to move slowly up and down on him.

He groaned surprised and aroused by her question, his fingers clenching tighter on the bare skin of her buttocks. He chuckled lowly, his hips responding to her every motion with a determined thrust, making her breasts bounce slightly in front of his face.

"− as a king, I could indeed have a mistress −" He murmured, surrendering completely to the world of his fantasy, no longer seeing anything around him but her, riding him so wonderfully, her fleshy walls squeezing him from all sides, bringing him dangerously close to orgasm as he rooted into her. "− she would have to meet a lot of conditions to satisfy me though −"

"− to have your firm breasts −" He exhaled helplessly, running his tongue over her nipple, feeling her insides clench tightly against him, his cock pulsing painfully hard inside her at the thought of how much his words aroused her.

"− to have your soft hips − your small hands − your shiny hair − your bright eyes − gods, your tight, hot insides −" He breathed out, speeding up his pace, fucking her with a wet, loud click of their mingled moisture, breathing loudly along with her, his mind clouded and filled with the pleasure that her gorgeous body was giving him. He heard her humming in delight at his words, her lips clamped, bouncing up and down on him, filling herself to the brim with his thick, swollen cock.

"− and if she had it all − would you fuck her? −" She cooed, and he licked his lips at the question, digging his fingers into the soft skin of her hips.

She had been surprising him all day.

During the Small Council, at the table with his brother, now that she was riding him.

He realised what he'd suspected all along but hadn't wanted to admit to himself.

His wife had been submissive to him and giving him what he wanted because she'd decided so herself, not because he'd forced or broken her.

Criston was right. The reason he took her away from her father was because he didn't want a subservient, empty wife, working like clockwork, pretending to be someone that she wasn't.

All his life everyone had pretended in front of him.

The ladies of the court that they were not afraid of him, the men in training that they did not mock him, the old men that they did not pity him.

She was the only one when he arrived in Storm's End who showed him the truth.

Her terror and uncertainty, her requests and desires.

He stole her and took her from her home, because he wanted her honesty and innocence, wanted whatever she gave him to be true.

He preferred her to hate him sincerely, rather than pretend to love him.

What he hadn't expected was how much he would trust her, how well she would understand and respond to his needs. He had the feeling that she truly cared about him, thought about him and herself, their future, their happiness.

At first he didn't allow himself this thought, but eventually he had to accept that this marriage was surprisingly successful.

He knew that everyone at court envied them; he would sometimes hear as he walked down the corridor how the ladies of the court would stop mid-conversation seeing him, wondering if it was some lover who satisfied his wife every night or if it was he who caressed her body with such devotion.

He couldn't hold back a grimace of satisfaction at the thought that he finally had something that the others wanted.

Lords seeking fulfilment in the arms of mistresses, undermining his abilities as a man were now looking at him and his young wife with envy.

His wife was his lover.

"− no − fuck − she wouldn’t have your voice − your scent − she wouldn’t moan like you −" He mumbled out, feeling his fulfilment approaching, his cock throbbing and twitching hard inside her with each brutal thrust that pushed her walls apart, his thighs all sticky with her wetness, her moans echoing around them each time he rubbed her upper wall.

"− my king-husband deserves it all −" She gasped sweetly, making a powerful shudder run through him, her hands resting on his shoulders, her buttocks falling against him with a loud slaps again and again.

He felt the tension in his cock reach its peak when she called him her King, so shamelessly, fearlessly, wonderfully.

"− he can fuck me on his throne whenever and however he wants − ah, Aemond, please!−"

He groaned loudly at her words, feeling her strong fulfillment, tilting his head back, feeling like his manhood was about to explode with arousal, his pushes messy and sloppy, loud, wet, her hot insides clenching on him steadily, sucking him inside, making him breathless.

"− oh, fuck, yes, just like that − oh, gods −" He choked out with difficulty, clenching his eye, moaning helplessly as he came inside her at last, a wave of pleasure and relief shook his body, all tense by now from the events that had taken place throughout the day.

He hugged her to him, panting along with her, the scent of her oils, sweats and moisture filling his nostrils, her hot body pulsing in his arms, wonderfully alive and soft.

His wife.

"You're the only one one I trust." He whispered tenderly and she pressed herself against him, burying her face in his neck as he drew comfort from this wonderful moment of their closeness.

They both fell asleep, weary from the hardships and events of the last hours, but the next few days were no easier for them.

Word reached King's Landing that Princess Rhaenyra had suffered a miscarriage when she learned of her father's death and Aegon's coronation as King. The Queen Mother tried to pretend, but it was clear to see how devastated she was by her childhood friend's suffering.

"Don't feel sorry for her, mother. She's a whore. I'm sure her uncle will put into her many more white-haired children." Aegon muttered during the supper, busying himself with the roast, paying no attention to the murderous stares of the his wife and his mother.

Even he, though he despised his half-sister, did not mock such tragic matters.

The day of his and his wife's expedition to gain supporters for his drunkard brother was imminent.

It wasn't until the day before his wife's trip to Storm's End that he realised that they hadn't parted for a day since their marriage.

There had been a few weeks in the first month of their marriage when they had not spoken to each other, but he was still aware that she was in the chamber next door, close to him.

Now, however, they were to spend more than a week apart on either side of the kingdom, without any contact whatsoever, and he felt uncomfortable with that thought. Although they did not speak with each other much, her mere physical presence was a comfort to him and reassured him.

The night before they parted he spent between her thighs.

He rubbed her intensely with his fingers, sliding them in and out her hot core with a sticky click, teasing her sweet spot, driving her mad.

"− p-please − put it inside me already −" She mumbled pleadingly, thirsty and herself terrified of their impending separation, despairing as he was at the lack of his presence and touch for the next few days. He licked his lips at her words, restraining himself with difficulty from complying with her request.

"− first I need to make sure that you understand everything I've said −" He hummed, pulling away for a moment from her nipple which he just sucked, his fingers began to penetrate her insides at a faster pace, causing her to tilt her head back, moaning in pleasure.

"− does my wife have the right to bring herself relief when her husband is not with her? −" He asked expectantly, running the tip of his tongue over her swollen, puffy nipple, and she sobbed beneath him, her body trembling all over.

"− n-no − no, my husband −" She mumbled helplessly, panting loudly, clasping her hands in his hair and arms, writhing beneath him, feeling her fulfilment approaching. He hummed with satisfaction at her words, releasing her nipple from between his lips with a sticky plop.

"− that's right − you have no right to touch yourself − tell me, who is allowed to caress you here? −" He cooed, feeling his cock throb hard in his breeches, impatient, wanting to possess her already. She squirmed at his words, her walls clenching greedily around his fingers, sucking them inside her fleshy core.

He knew that she was on the verge of fulfillment.

"− only you, please, only you −" She mewled, parting her lips wide, a surprised moan erupting from her throat as her orgasm surged through her suddenly in long, intense waves.

He murmured with satisfaction at the sight, playing with her nipple between his lips, her breasts falling and rising in deep, raspy breaths, pushing against his face.

"− good − have no fear, your husband will take care of you − he will take care of you all night −"

And so he did.

He slid deep inside her and fucked her, looking at her sweet face, her walls puffy and moist from her fulfillment. His wife pulled his eye patch off his face as soon as he began root into her with his gasp of delight.

Since he didn't have it on, he took her more often by looking at her, pressing his face against hers, enjoying her scent and her hot breath on his body, burshing her plump, swollen lips and slipping his tongue between into her throat.

When he came inside her she thought that it was over.

When he did it a second time, she thought so too.

As she lay on her side with him, her back pressed against his chest, already half asleep, tired and sore, he began to rock his hips again.

She whispered pleadingly that she wanted to sleep, that she couldn't take it anymore.

"Sleep then. I don't mind." He purred, running his nose over her soft, rosy cheek. "Your husband won't see you for a week and you won't let him enjoy yourself?"

He heard her sigh at his words as she gave in completely, letting him fuck her until morning.

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @blairfox4

393 notes · View notes