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purple-writer8 · 17 days

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Long Story Short - ACOTAR

“And he’s passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. And he feels like home, if the shoe fits walk in it everywhere you go.”

warnings: war, war injuries, past relationship tension, new mating bond, self doubt, angst (but like not a lot), allusions to sex

1.9k words

Part 2 to Closure

Masterlist :)

You fought in the Winter Court battle along with Thesan and the Dawn Court’s Peregryn legion. You were a skilled warrior, trained by Rhysand himself— you used to love training, now you despised those memories.

Looking into the mirror in your bathchamber, you flinched as your fingers grazed over the purple bruises forming on the side of your face. It wasn’t pretty, it was horribly gnarly looking. A Hybern warrior had given you a hard blow to the face, beating you to the ground. If it wasn’t for one of the Peregryn warriors, Thesan would have probably needed to plan a funeral for you.

It was all a blur. One day you were mourning Rhysand and your failed romance, the next you were fighting in a war alongside him and all of the other courts. You had told Azriel that you did not care to make amends, and you meant it. But this was for a greater good.

A soft knock came upon the bathchamber, making you snap out of your haze and exit to find your brother standing there. Thesan looked miserable. Your brother was a protector, ever since you knew reason, and this war— the casualties— took a steep toll on his mental health. “Why are you here?”

He was supposed to be back in the war camp with everyone else. You only left because you did not wish to heal and sleep amongst Feyre and Rhysand. The wounds in your heart still needed time to heal.

“Azriel is hurt.” Thesan looked distraught. You could not explain the way that your heart plummeted at those three simple words. For some reason, it made your heart ache— the thought of Azriel hurt. “It’s his wings. I could not heal them… they are not the same as Callan’s. Will you try?” Thesan asked, and instantly you nodded. Your healing abilities were good, almost as good as his. You could try.

Your brother grabbed you and in a blink of an eye, you were winnowed away.

A chill ran down your spine when you winnowed into Azriel’s tent. He was screaming, Rhysand holding him down as he writhed in the bed— his wings shredded in a horrible manner. You felt yourself freeze, eyes wide— it was like you could feel his pain— and you would do anything to stop it. You would rather take on his pain than let him feel it.

Rhysand was there too, but for the first time ever, you didn’t even glance at him. No, instead you rushed to Azriel, kneeling besides him. There was something in your heart, something that made you strain, that broke you— all because you saw him in pain.

He stopped his thrashing when your hand reached for his face, his hazel eyes widening by the bruise that overtook your own face. “What happened?” He asked, as if he weren’t the one with shredded wings.

“Nothing. I am fine,” you assured him, feeling like he was truly gravely worried for your wellbeing. His eyes remained on you, searching all over your body for more injuries. “I am not the problem, please sit so I can heal you. Please,” you begged him, feeling like you couldn’t breathe the longer you stared at his wings.

He sat up, and you got to work.

You spent all night working on his wings, and by dawn they already looked much better than when you had come in. Azriel had fallen asleep, and he had slept peacefully for many hours all while you watched over him. You did not sleep at all, you were sick with worry.

“Thanks for coming, I know that you took a harsh beating in Winter,” that velvety voice you had once worshipped whispered from the doorway. To turn and see Rhysand there, in Azriel’s tent, made you angry.

You almost wanted to tell him to leave, but you were in no place to make commands. This was still his camp. “I came for Azriel. He doesn’t deserve this,” you responded bitterly and you meant it.

Ever since that talk the two of you had in your balcony, you had become obssesed with the shadowsinger. For some reason, you could not get him out of your head, even in the battle, while killing and fighting— you thought of him. “Well, I thank you. Thesan was drained after the battle and struggled to heal him… when he said you would do it… I doubted,” Rhys confessed, his violet eyes drifting to his sleeping brother.

“You think I am so selfish that I wouldn’t heal him just because he is your friend?” You asked, and you truly tried to reel in your emotions, but they were too strong for you to control. It wasn’t even about Rhys, you realized, it was about him thinking you wouldn’t help Azriel.

“You can sometimes be selfish, yes.” Rhysand shrugged, and you wanted to lunge foward and strangle him for suggesting you were selfish. He was the epitome of selfishness, and here he stood— accusing you after you came and healed his brother.

You had tried avoiding him ever since Thesan told you the Dawn Court would fight alongside him against Hybern. You tried picking your battles, and decided Rhysand was not a battle worth fighting, yet here the battle stood, picking you.

You decided to ignore the dig, your gaze drifting to the still asleep shadowsinger and asking, “how did he get so hurt?”

“He went to save Feyre’s sister from the Hybern camp,” he replied, and you could not explain the jealousy that surged within you at the mention of Azriel saving that girl.

Those freaks of nature bring more harm to Prythian than good, you wanted to tell Rhysand about his mate and sisters, but once more figured it wasn’t a battle worth picking.

A groan escaped the shadowsinger, and instantly you ran to his side, helping him sit up in bed. His facial expression was one of pain, and you knew taht he was trying his best to mask it. But you knew... you felt his pain.

“How are you?” Azriel croaked, his voice more hoarse than usual due to all of the pain filled screams he let out the night before. You scoffed in disbelief, “me?! I am not the one whose wings were torn apart.”

He winced at the reminder, but still his hazel eyes did not leave yours. “You healed me…” he said in the gentlest of tones, making your heart skip a beat. You frowned, wondering why in all of Prythian your heart was thundering inside your chest.

“Will he heal fine?” Rhysan’s icy tone snapped you out of the trance Azriel has you in. You turned to him and nodded, scowling at the High Lord. “He will heal completely but he will not be able to fly for a while.”

Azriel protested, saying how he felt fine. Though one cold glare from you made him sink back down unto the bed. Rhysand noticed this, how you were able to tame down Azriel with just a look. “For how long?” The High Lord asked.

“For a few weeks, at least. For the health of his wings, he can not fight anymore battles…” you trailed, looking at Azriel with a solemn expression. You somehow knew he wanted to fight, to protect his family and Prythian.

“How is Elain?” Azriel asked Rhysand, and you snarled. You had always been a jealous female, but always over Rhys, never over anyone else.

“Fine. Shaken up but fine, everyone is fine… we will be meeting up later today to discuss some things. Join us, Az…” Rhys’ violet eyes shifted to you, “you may as well.”

“Thanks for the permission,” you mumbled sarcastically.

Rhysand stared at you. A cold, unforgiving glare, then soon after you felt those talons you had once adored caressing your mind. He wasn’t looking for a way in, no, he was reminding you who he was— what he could do. You didn’t say anything, only glared at him as he left Azriel’s tent.

A beat passed and you turned to the shadowsinger, “I’ll get you some food.” You were quick to your feet, and before Azriel could protest, out the tent you went.

You didn’t understand your new and— quite blinding— feelings regarding the Night Court’s shadowsinger. You’d known Azriel for almost a century, and you had never cared for him further than for friendship. And now, suddenly, you felt as if you had been stabbed when Rhysand said he had been hurt because he went to save another female.

Was this your mind’s sick way to get over Rhysand? You stood over a pot of rice that boiled on top of a bonfire, filling a ceremic pot you had found with rice and chicken for Azriel.

Azriel. While you swooned over Azriel, some Ilyrian warrior snatched the plate from your hands and walked off. You shouted an obscenity, but the male’s glare made you shrink back into yourself.

Fuck your life. You looked back to the pot that had been cooking and realized that plate contained the very last of the rice and chicken. You couldn’t let Azriel starve.

You groaned and got some more rice from a nearby sack, throwing it in the boiling pot and letting it cook. A yawn escaped your lips as you watched the rice cook, then a few minutes later— it was ready for him. You served him a big bowl and went back to his tent.

You went inside, only to find Azriel squirming in bed, his large wings twitching uncontrollably. You gasped, setting the bowl down and rushing to him. “What happened?!” You shrieked as you tended to him.

“It’s nothing, really. I just stood up too fast,” he tried keeping it cool, but you knew well that he was hurting. You looked up at his face, and you gasped when you felt it.

A mating bond snapping inside your soul. So strong it almost sent you flying to the floor.

“What the fuck?!” You asked in shock, your chest rising and falling in a heratic manner as you stared up at the Ilyrian male. He looked devastated, solemn as he looked at you. “Im sorry…” he whispered, and you frowned.

“Why would you apologize?” You asked, still reeling from the knowledge of who your mate was. “It is disappointing, I know. To be mated to me instead of who you always wanted. If you wish to reject me…”

“Why would I reject you?” You asked in shock, your mind running an entire marathon as you thought about everything that this meant. Azriel was your mate… Rhysand’s brother was your mate. You had known him for ninety years and you never felt the bond, no… because you were in love with someone else before ever meeting him.

“Why would you accept me?” You reeled from his words, and your heart— you could feel it— begged you to accept him.

Because you thought back to the years you lived in Velaris, to your interactions with Azriel and the Inner Circle.

One Winter Solstice, before Under the Mountain, you and Rhysand got into it— and it was bad— one of the biggest fights you had ever had. You had left the townhouse in a hurry, not even putting on your shoes and coat. Rhysand demanded you to come back, his voice thundering in your mind over and over again. You didn’t. You were so mad, you sat in a small Velaris coffee shop— freezing to death— until Azriel appeared.

He held your shoes and a coat. You wondered if Rhysand had sent him, though he hadn’t— because Rhysand was still ordering you back in your mind.

As you recalled the many times Azriel only ever showed you kindness and gentleness, you took the bowl of rice you had made, handing it to him.

His hazel eyes widened in shock. He looked at the bowl, as if it was the most grandiose thing in the world. “You are serious?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle.

“Please eat, Azriel.”

Two Years Later

Losing Rhysand felt like falling off a precipice. Loving Azriel was like climbing right back up that hill. It was absolutely everything. Your mate was… perfection reincarnated. He swooped in. Just when your life could not get worse— he came in and turned it all around.

You never thought in a million years that Azriel would be, could be your mate. You had pined for Rhysand for ninety years for cauldron’s sake. But now… now you only ever thought of your doting mate, of the male that taught you that love could be something beautiful, something that you didn’t have to beg for or ask for. It was given freely, willingly.

You were currently sitting on your bed, preparing the final touches for Azriel’s winter solstice gift. It was already noon, and he had spent the day with his family in the Night Court as you had asked him to. He had wanted to skip his family’s celebration, but you didn’t let him.

Your relationship with the IC was still difficult, you and Rhysand were not yet completely healed from your ninety year tryst— but regardless of that, you never wanted Azriel to push his family away. Even though Rhysand and him had definitely grown apart.

Rhysand didn’t care about the bond, that was what he claimed. But then he grew hostile, and always sent Azriel on long missions— away from the Dawn Court where you resided, or he didn’t let Azriel visit you. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. He had a mate and now a son. Rhysand just did not think you were enough for Azriel.

You hummed a solstice tune as you fixed up the little gift box, and just as you finished it, your beautiful mate winnowed into your room. You squealed, lunging at him and wrapping your arms around his neck, eagerly kissinng him.

Azriel chuckled, “my angel seems happy to see me.” He hugged you back, despite the flowers he held in his beautiful hands. You nuzzled your face into his chest, warmth and love engulfing your senses instantly. Azriel was your home.

He kissed the top of your head as you pulled away. “How was it?” You asked him, watching as he moved to his dresser, carefully discarding all of his leathers. “Good, but would have been better if my angel mate was there,” he groaned the last part, still upset he didn’t spend winter solstice morning with you.

“Your angel mate was preparing your gift and spending the day with Thesan in the village,” you answered in a chirpy manner. You did not care that he hadn’t been there in the morning. All you cared was seeing him, period.

You watched as he changed his leathers into more comfortable clothing, salivating as you ogled the way his muscles flexed with any sort of movement. After he was done, he turned to you, a smirk adorning his handsome face, “ready for your gift?”

“Are you my gift?” You asked excitedly, making him laugh as he grabbed a tiny box from his discarded coat pocket and strided across the room towards you. Cauldron forgive you, but this male was your religion. “No… well… later.” He said, his voice gentle and soothing as always.

His loving arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you closer into his figure. You looked up at him, smiling as he leaned down to engulf you in a passionate kiss. “I go first,” he whispers as he pulls away and hands you the velvety sapphire blue box.

You squealed and opened it to reveal two sets of keys. You smiled, eyeing the pieces of metal before looking up at Azriel with inquiring eyes. “I bought us a house in Velaris… near the hills…” He trailed off.

He eyed you for your reaction and then his wings twitched in excitement, “and a home here, in the city.” At that statement you gasped.

“What?!” You shrieked, eyeing the keys in sheer shock. He had bought two houses?! For you?!

“We can never agree on a place to live. You don’t want me away from my family, and I don’t want you away from your brother. So I figured… we split our time as we wish… I’ve spoken to both Rhysand and Thesan and they have agreed, we can go and come as we please. We get to live together without sacrificing our lives in our home courts.” Azriel explained, and the way he spoke made your insides flutter beyond remedy.

“You are serious?” You asked in shock, not expecting such a thoughtful and frankly, expensive gift. Azriel nodded, “all I want is to be near you. I will buy a home wherever you want as long as I have you. I know you don’t want me to leave my family… and I would hate for you to have to compromise for me…”

“I… fuck, my gift is so bad.” You cursed, rubbing your temple as happy tears swelled your eyes at the thoughtfulness of your mate. Thoughtfulness a partner had never given you in the three centuries you had lived.

“Angel, you are the only gift I will ever need. You know that. This bond… is everything I ever wanted, and more.” Azriel kissed your forehead as he soothed you. You rested your head on his chest until he asked, “is my gift the leather cuffs I wanted for my armor?”

“Yes.” You groaned.

“Fuck yeah, angel. Cassian will be so jealous when he sees what Nuan came up with.” You giggled at his words and handed him the box.

You watched as your mate eagerly opened and then put on the brand new mechanical cuffs. They were black and blue, and had some features that apparently would make him a more unbeatable opponent. “I feel like this is so bad compared to the TWO houses you just gave me.”

“Sweetheart,” he frowned, “you think I kid when I say my mate is my most exquisite, excellent gift?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, only for him to tackle you to the bed, his wings flaring wide as he peppered your face with sweet kisses all over. “You are all I have ever wanted.”

You laughed gleefully and gave in to your loving mate.

Long story short, you survived.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @wallacewillow0773638 @lilah-asteria

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mitsies · 1 year

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a lot can change in 17 days.

17 days of blindness. 17 days of isolation. 17 days of utter helplessness, a horrifying, disgusting inability to do anything, a feeling gojo satoru has only felt once before and swore he would never, not ever experience again. 17 days alone. 17 days of waiting, not watching, just waiting.

sick. sick to his stomach. that's how he felt, seeing the campus of jujutsu high again for the first time since those long, long 17 days ago. only to grow sicker still when he sees what's missing.

a lot can change in 17 days. especially when you live a life like his. his students, so prized, so close to his heart- only fractions remain. one, the one he raised with an angry scowl and messy dark hair and eyes that looked too much like his fathers' is gone altogether. gojo hates uncertainty but he doesn't know what to expect from anything anymore. and maybe the biggest change of all is the lack of your presence.

he's known you since high school. the fourth of the four, the final member of his graduating year, you've always been there. always. with a shoulder to cry on, not that he ever took you up on it. with a kind smile. with a teasing remark, a jest that was just so alive, too alive, too good to be alive. he's ashamed to admit it but upon your original arrival, all those years ago, he didn't think you'd make it.

a warmth followed you. your movements, your actions, your words- unintentional. beautiful. never wavering. you were too good to be there, too good to live there. so he expected you to die there instead.

"don't tell me you're tired already?"

you'd been quick to deliver a wake-up call. egotistical, hot-headed, 15-year-old gojo satoru hadn't appreciated it then, not as much as he did now, when you'd thoroughly outmatched him in one of your first spars. not with physicality but stamina- he'd never had an opponent he couldn't beat within a minute. you tired him out, a moving target, untouchable.

he dreamt of you that night. sharp movements, almost a blur. gone in a blink, offering a hand. warm, sweaty palms. skin. he woke up the next morning to you offering him a blueberry muffin for breakfast and he thinks that's when he began to like you.

even later came the realisation that he loved you. torrents of rain poured down on the forested campus, tenfold, a hundredfold, a thousand. it seemed never-ending, as gojo stared up at the sky through the windows. dark, angry clouds swathed the sun. he looked right through them.

"what're you looking at?" your voice is rough. you had just woken up from a nap after returning from an assignment. he doesn't need to turn to see you- wet hair, clinging to your face, warm pajamas, arms crossed over your chest. curious. he likes it when you want to know what he's thinking.

with a dramatic huff, gojo falls back onto the common room's couch. "it's so rainy outside. and i wanted to go get something from that new bakery, too," he laments.

he can see you now. you adorn that same expression that always manages to make his stomach churn and his heart twist and stop and stall and burn like a comet in his chest. "i can't believe it."

"what? believe what?"

"the gojo satoru. stopped by a little rain? how preposterous."

it was decidedly not just a little rain. but with your arms crossed and your smile sharper than steel, he knows he can't turn down a challenge.

that evening, the both of you returned from a very successful bakery trip with leftover pastries in hand and dripping wet, covering the floors of your school with a thin layer of water. he had been freezing but pretending he wasn't because he hoped you'd think he was cooler.

how long ago was that, now? he had been around 18 then. 18 and foolish, because he allowed himself to fall in love with you that day. with your smile, your challenges. your rain-soaked hair and your cunning words. you, who he thought wouldn't last. you, who proved him wrong then. you, who proved him right now.

shoko's morgue is cold. it always has been. for a place so full of death the air smells oddly clean, in the way a hospital does. he supposes that makes sense. your body is no longer there. nothing remains of you.

what shoko tells him is that it was a typical mission where you were blindsided by a curse. he doesn't want to believe it but shoko wouldn't lie, not about this. she looks sadder, smaller, thinner. eyes trained on the silver table where you presumably lay, once. (someone else he loved was there too. his best friend. and then you. why was it never him?)

shoko leaves and he's left to his own devices. he stands there, for a while. because he never got to tell you he loved you.

maybe he was avoiding it this whole time. love was a connection, love was a curse. those he loved, died. he had lived 13 years knowing you, loving you in his loud silence. he has lived 13 years with that unspoken bond. but even if he never said it, it didn't make it less true. he supposes that he might be the curse, after all.

he has loved you for 13 years. and all those years were gone, just like that, in 17 days.

gojo satoru guesses that he was never meant to love, never at all.

[ more jujutsu kaisen fics! ] [ home page! ]

#literally we dont know anything about the prison realm but here have this idk #i'm running out of ways to write mcd #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #reader insert #rushed ending + kinda bad but dont care so dont talk to me abt it.

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whbfan · 1 month

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Leviathan (Selfie) | Story 1

Boooooom—!!

There was an explosion so loud that even the gravel on the ground trembled and rolled around.

Devil with good hearing: Is that an angel attack—?!

At a watchhouse in Hades that always prepared perfectly against angel invasions, a devil with good hearing urgently looked up outside the window and shouted.

However, the explosion didn’t come from an angel invasion this time.

When all the devils raised their heads and looked up at the sky in unison…

Something was pouring down from the clear sky, leaving long, thing, rainbow-like tracks.

Devil with good eyes: That’s… A rainbow…? No, is it a comet…?

Devil with good senses: Ah—! A rainbow colored meteor—?! That must mean—!

When everyone was captivated by a meteor with a rainbow-colored tail fantastically embroidering the sky.

Boooooom—!!

Once again, an explosion enough to shake the group below the devils’ feet came from the sky.

At the same time, the clouds opened up in a circle as though there was a hole, and someone— Appeared from the middle.

The devil who was floating in a somewhat gloomy manner among the magnificent, rainbow-colored meteoric shower was smiling with a camera that had lenses as big as a cannon in his hand. -If you can also call a phantasmagoric smile reflected in a gleaming blade a smile…

The man who appeared as though he had forced himself through the universe beyond the sky was overflowing with such tremendous presence that he drew the eyes of all those there.

He definitely had horns, the symbol of devils, growing from his head, but they could feel a more oppressive and extraterrestrial energy from him.

It was obvious that he was no mere devil.

Just then, a few devils shouted almost in unison.

Devil with loud voice: That’s—! Phenomenon—!!

Excited devil: It’s Phenomenon—! It’s Phenomenon—!!

The expressions of the devils who were stiff with worry and wariness until just now were all colored with excitement.

No one there asked who Phenomenon was.

Because the name Phenomenon was a name that all devils in Hell knew.

The being called Phenomenon above the sky opened his lips that seemed so heavy that they wouldn’t open excruciatingly slowly and almost growled in a low voice.

Phenomenon: I have come… To take a picture…

Overjoyed devil: Ooooh!! It has begun—!!!

Elated devil: Phenomenon has come to take a picture—!!

The devils shouted and cheered in excitement as though Phenomenon’s single sentence notified them of the beginning of a festival.

Meanwhile, while Phenomenon had appeared and caused an uproar in all of Hell.

Leviathan, he king of Hades, was sitting on his throne that was at the topmost location of the main hall in his castle.

It was extremely quiet and dark there, as though it was completely cut off from the ruckus outside the castle.

Dozens of subordinates were standing and facing each other on either side of the hall that was divided by a purple carpet, but not even the tiny sound of breathing could be heard.

The only thing boasting its existence there was Leviathan’s white, beautiful face shining mysteriously like the moon in the middle of the night.

Subjects: (His majesty Leviathan is beautiful and perfect again today—!)

The dozens of subordinates standing on either side of the king, purple carpet under the throne exclaimed in their minds as they stared at the Leviathan’s beauty that they simply could never get sick of.

Blink- Blink-

A light, mysterious color that was neither white, brown, nor gray.

The color of Leviathan’s hair, eyebrows, and pupils definitely gave the expression of being ‘beautiful’, but one could never fathom the color.

It seemed to be like the unique color that God made especially for him.

[Traces of favoritism from God]

That was all they could say to describe the color.

The antler-like horns growing from his head were bound by chains glowing white.

Whenever he bobbed his head or moved his body, the chains of light made a clinking sound.

They looked like a leash that the Leviathan who was such a perfectionist that he always urged himself with extreme severity put on himself.

Leviathan: I heard that Phenomenon has returned for the first time in a century.

Leviathan: You must be excited too.

Glasyal La Bolas: I am most looking forward to it, your majesty. Hehehe…

With a beautiful yet cold smile on his face, Leviathan studies Glasyal La Bolas as though he was satisfied.

Leviathan: You look more excited than I am.

Leviathan: Hang him.

Glasyal La Bolas: Urgh—!

The moment Leviathan ordered into the air and raised his middle finger, the huge lasso around Glasyal La Bolas’ neck flew into the air and strangled its owner.

As the lasso raised high into the air tightened more and more, Glasyal La Bolas’ feet receded from the air by a foot, and then by two feet.

And once his body was about five feet away from the ground, did it finally stop in the air.

Subjects: (He’s hanging—! He’s hanging again today—!)

Half full of fear, half full of envy, the subordinates stared at Glasyal La Bolas.

None wondered why he had to hang.

[Hang him.] Because Leviathan said so, that was enough reason for him to hang.

Leviathan: ….

When Leviathan cocked his raised finger slightly yo himself, Glasyal La Bolas’ body moved in midair and approached Leviathan.

Leviathan’s calm, expressionless gazed raked not Glasyal La Bolas’ flushed face, but his firm body.

The manly lines of his face that he could see through the shadows despite the dark interior, and the firm body supporting the huge body.

Leviathan: Pfft.

Leviathan finished studying Glasyal La Bolas’ body and lowered his finger with a ‘pfft’.

Then, there was a bang-! And Glasyal La Bolas’ large body plunged into the ground.

Glasyal La Bolas: Cough, cough—! Hey, Foras. Don’t just stand there looking, help me up. Hehehe…

Said Glasyal La Bolas, coughing drily from the spot on the ground that he fell towards and looking sideways. It was empty. But-

Foras: No. You’re heavy.

Said a dreamy voice that seemed to melt and scatter into the air as soon as he heard it.

The moment he finished speaking, a beautiful man appeared in the empty spot next to Glasyal La Bolas.

The pink-haired man who had horns that shone mysteriously as though they had rainbows inside them bowed calmly towards Leviathan.

Foras: Your majesty, what you ordered has been prepared.

When the mean with a voice that was alike a scent that scattered in the air spoke, Leviathan rose from his seat.

Then, he spoke towards his subordinates and Glasyal La Bolas who melted into the dark interior like shadows.

Leviathan: Whether you are excited or not, you must be well aware that it is no reason for you not to do your jobs properly.

O-of course!!

The subordinates answered, nodding fervently as though intent upon biting their tongues off.

Leviathan studies them with sunken eyes for a moment, then soon left with a beautiful afterimage.

Some time around that time at another place in the castle, there was a small commotion.

Small devil: I am most apologetic. Child of Solomon—!

Smaller devil: Sorry, sorry—! His majesty Leviathan told us to urgently bring you all the way here, Child of Solomon—!

Small devil: No words can express our apologies, Child of Solomon—!!

Y/n: A-alright, calm down. It would be nice if you would calm down and explain properly instead.

Bewildered, you asked the small devils.

Y/n: Why am I… in Leviathan’s office?

A huge room where antique furniture quietly boasted their magnificence

There was a large desk and chair in the center of the breezy room, and there were various piles of documents on top of it.

You kneaded your forehead in the space that was so dizziness ingrained with a sweet body scent that you could never forget.

You were definitely walking through the streets of Gehenna until a while ago.

Sitri and Ppyong were walking a few steps ahead of you, and you could see Satan walking from a distance ahead of them.

That was definitely what was happening… When you suddenly felt a freezing chill as though winter had come precisely to the spit you were standing on.

You couldn’t even turn you gaze as though even your pupils had frozen, your two legs also froze as well. Just when you started to get a headache from the sudden chill.

Small devil: Child of Solomon…! Nice to meet you, we were ordered by his Majesty Leviathan to bring you!

Smaller devil: Child of Solomon…! We were ordered to bring you carefully, safely, and sincerely!

Small devil: You will have arrived in Hades once you freeze and wake up in a moment!

Smaller devil: Yes yes, we will deliver you quickly and safely!

Without even the time to realize what was happening, you froze as you stood and lost consciousness along with a foggy line of sight…

You had opened your eyes on the floor of Leviathan’s office, listening to the voices of small, sniffling devils.

Small devil: His Majesty Leviathan prefers work to be done perfectly and swiftly but Child of Solomon, we weren’t trying to hurt you!

Smaller devil: We always do our best to win his favor! But Child of Solomon, weren’t trying to make you go through trouble!

Y/n: Alright, I get it… Please explain why I’m lying down here first…

Barbatos: Oh my. What is someone esteemed doing on the ground?

You heard a polite yet vivacious voice from above your head.

When you looked up… A man smiling brightly as though he was facing the Sun that couldn’t have risen inside this room was extending a hand towards you.

Extending your own hand in bewilderment, he took it firmly and lightly helped you up.

Barbatos: Next time, you should lay down on the ground with me preferably outside, when the sun is at its brightest. Naked.

The handsome man smiling in a sparkly way like the sunlight vocalized sweetly of nonsense.

Foras: You came, Child of Solomon. I knew that you would accept his Majesty Leviathan’s invitation.

Standing in the opposite direction of Barbatos who helped you up, Foras smiled lightly at you.

Thanks to the smile that was as soft as his delicate voice, you must managed to find a little peace in this sudden situation.

Y/n: …But, an invite?

When you tilted your head, the temperature in the room plummeted and a chill you never wanted to feel again surrounded you.

A mysterious chill that made you feel sweetness in your mouth.

You turned around as though your instincts ordered you.

Leviathan was standing at the entrance to the office, glaring at the small devils with a terrifying look in his eyes.

Leviathan: I definitely told you. That they are an esteemed guest. So you should bring them preciously, and safely.

Leviathan: But why, are they rolling around the ground?

His already pale pupils turned even paler and it looked like the whites of his eyes.

Then, the devils made an alarmed sound and trembled like they would pass out at any moment.

The small devils urgently pulled the lassos around their necks with their own hands and choked.

Small devil: I—! Apologize, your Majesty Leviathan—! Kurgh—!

Smaller Devil: I’ve committed—! A grave sin, your majesty Leviathan—! Kurhhhhgh—!

When the devils’ flushed faces almost looked black.

Leviathan: Get rid of them. It’s noisy.

When Leviathan ordered, Foras quietly threw them outside the door.

…

Just when you were about to be inwardly relieved inside the quiet office.

Leviathan: [Hang.]

Barbatos: Ku-urgh—?!

This time, Barbatos’ leash strangled him.

It wasn’t Barbatos’ will, but Leviathan’s who was raising his finger before him.

Y/n: (Why is he doing that to Barbatos—?!)

Leviathan: You’re too close to my guest, Barbatos. I feel jealous. Move.

Barbatos: Ku—Urgh…! I-I apologize. Your Majesty…

The heels of his feet were already in the air, Barbatos tiptoed away from you.

Only then did the leash around Barbatos loosen up and he gasped roughly.

Leviathan: Watch it.

Barbatos smiled brightly and bowed as though he forgot that he was choked.

Y/n: (Everything’s strange, how he strangled them for pretty reasons, and how they smile although they’re choking…!)

But this was Hell, and you had to adapt to that fact.

Y/n: Anyways, why… Did he invite me? I still haven’t heard why—!

You asked urgently before Leviathan felt unsatisfied with something again.

Foras: Child of Solomon. You know that all of Hell is in an uproar because of Phenomenon’s contest, right?

Y/n: Yeah, I heard that everyone’s clamoring for the first place…

Barbatos: Do you also know how the winner is picked?

Y/n: No, not that…

Foras: Phenomenon’s favorite picture is ‘a picture where you’re the most obscenely messed up’.

When the Foras’ voice rang your ears like an oddly hot sigh, you gulped drily.

Y/n: That’s… Hellish. But… What does that have to do with me?

Foras: That’s…

Foras suddenly closed his mouth while trying to continue his explanation.

Once you followed Foras’ hardened line of sight, you saw Leviathan’s head tilting a little as though he was dissatisfied.

Leviathan: Leave the guest here, and all of you, get out.

He was kicking them without a reason nor context. But neither Barbatos nor Foras complained as they bowed.

No devil in Hades ever refuted their king’s decision, and they all accepted his moody punishments joyfully.

The subordinates were unconditional and loyal to the point that it was queer.

With a click, the door behind you closed.

Leviathan: The order is completely messed up, but it has been a while, Child of Solomon.

Left alone with you in the room, Elviathan greeted you belatedly.

He leaned slightly on the huge desk and stretched his long legs as though bragging about them.

Not only his legs.

The arms with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and gripping the end of the desk, the white nape of his neck that you could see through the collar. You had the feeling that he was showing it all for you to see.

Y/n: (Am I really allowed to see something like this for free…)

You were thinking not unlike Leviathan’s subordinates in your mind, when Leviathan spoke in a businesslike voice.

Leviathan: Answer.

Y/n: Hmmm? Oh, ohhh. Yeah, it’s been a while, Leviathan.

Licking your lips in your mind, you stuttered an answered.

Leviathan: Come closer.

He was a man who was used to ordering.

Once you approached him so closely that the tips of your feet touched him, you felt the breathtaking beauty he emanated as vividly as the closing space between you.

You couldn’t open your eyes in front of light that was too strong, nor could you breathe before wind that was too powerful.

Similarly, you were a little afraid of approaching Leviathan.

It felt like the excessive beauty he was emanating would threaten you.

Leviathan: Closer.

Y/n: …Don’t you think this is enough?

Leviathan: It is I, not you, who will decide that.

Y/n: No, but I think this is enough for a conversa… Ugh—!

Leviathan lifted himself from the desk while you stuttered, and reached out with a long arm to grip your chin strongly.

Leviathan: Stop. I feel like I will get jealous at your pleasant voice, so stop.

His grasp on your chin felt even stronger because of his oppressive voice.

You felt cold sweat trickling down your back.

Not only was the mysteriously sweet scent from Leviathan rushing freely into your nostrils because he was closer to you, but you could also even vividly see his beautiful eyelashes fluttering.

You felt dizzy and out of breath as though you were gazing at a picture that was much too magnificent and exquisite.

Leviathan: You are the same from when you first came to this Hell.

Y/n: …Meaning that I haven’t developed… Is that an insult…?

Leviathan: I don’t care if anyone who isn’t my subordinate develops or not.

Leviathan was definitely speaking politely, but the oppressive feeling in his voice never faded.

Leviathan: I mean that you continue watching me with that unchanging, filthy gaze.

Y/n: F-filthy eyes…!

Leviathan: I know what eyes you make in this Hell.

Leviathan: You study the firm bottoms of all those passing through the streets, lick the arm muscles that show with your gaze, and sneak peeks at those between their legs over the clothes…

Leviathan: You exaggerate your imaginations in your mind without their permission, taking their clothes off at your will, touching those bodies, tormenting them…

In Leviathan’s eyes that were so pale that they were transparent, all sorts of lustful imaginations that you thought of played as though they were videos in a monitor.

Leviathan: I know you had those filthy habits when you were on Earth as well.

You felt embarrassed at Leviathan pointing them out but were rather happy that he knew you so well.

Leviathan: You even dared grope at the outline of this body with your gaze. Just now.

You thought you could hear growling of a strange beast under his voice.

Y/n: …Uhm, I know it’s despicable of me to say this… But wouldn’t it be okay if I though to myself…

Leviathan: I didn’t call you here to blame you.

Leviathan: In fact, Iam trying to use that filthiness.

Leviathan: Phenomenon’s contest. I must win the first place.

Y/n: Why?

Leviathan: If I, the most perfect and beautiful devil, do not win, who will?

(That’s not exactly wrong…)

Leviathan: You can soil me with your dark desires, and have the constitution of being able to mark my body thanks to having the unique bloodline of being the descendant of Solomon.

Leviathan: So you must help me, Child of Solomon.

Leviathan: You may touch me, spank me, pinch or scratch me. You can do anything you want if only you can make me win.

You thought ‘what luck—!’ in your mind, but felt a little rebellious at Leviathan’s haughty attitude.

Y/n: But… I don’t know why I should help you.

Leviathan: Are you telling me to persuade you?

Leviathan’s voice lowered a notch and raised goosebumps on your skin.

Y/n: O-of course, you have to persuade me! If you’re trying to get help, you have to excuse yourself first…

Leviathan: You don’t need to do it, if you don’t want to.

You did a double take when Leviathan announced without an ounce of sadness.

Y/n: N-no! I mean—!

Leviathan: [Hang.]

Y/n: …?!

When Leviathan ordered, thick ropes dropped from the ceiling.

Y/n: (There were things like that?!)

Now that you saw, the ceiling in Leviathan’s room was endless like it was hidden by pitch black smoke,

And you thought that things other than thick ropes were hiding themselves there.

The roped moved towards you like living snakes at Leviathan’s orders…

And wound themselves tightly around your neck, shoulders and armpits, wrists, crotch, knees, and ankles.

In fact, the ropes tied themselves tightly even around your joints.

Your entire body was bound by the firm ropes as you rose into the air like a marionette.

Y/n: W-wait—! What are you doing—!

Leviathan: I said I have to win. Also that I need your powers.

Leviathan: But if you won’t help me…

Slap—!!

His face jolted sideways as he spoke.

The pure white and delicate cheek had a red handprint on it, and for some reason… Your palm stung.

Y/n: …?!?!

A beat too late, you realized that your palm was what struck Leviathan.

The ropes winding tightly around your arms and wrists had moved you to strike Leviathan on his cheek!

You felt flustered and guilty for leaving a handprint on a being as beautiful as a doll.

To hit someone on the face so powerfully, you geared up in a fear and sorriness.

Y/n: L-Leviathan!! Are you alright?! I didn’t do that on purpose—!!

Leviathan: Hmm. I should hit this spot some more.

Y/n: ….?

Leviathan muttered at himself in the huge mirror on the wall, oblivious to your confusion.

Y/n: No way…

Leviathan: You don’t need to do it if you’re not going to do it.

Leviathan: Because I can just make you.

Leviathan turned from the mirror and spoke to you.

Leviathan: So, I will use a little. Child of Solomon.

Said the man whose swelling red cheek was even sadly beautiful.

#leviathan selfie #whb #what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #what in hell is bad leviathan #whb spoilers #what in ‘hell’ is bad

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blenselche · 1 month

Text

wanted to sketch this scene from Oneirogenic Coalescence out

“Shoko?”

She stares back at him, only a few inches away and inspecting his face with narrowed eyes.

“I’m stuck being your guide again,” she surmises. “Subtractional. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” She blows a sigh out, pushing a hand through her hair. “I should have stayed in the deadworlds.”

Finn snorts, elbowing her. “Well, for what it’s worth I’m glad you didn’t. Is it actually you this time, or- or is this just part of the hallucination?”

“I’ve been dragged out of your subconscious. I’m still with you, after all, as you’ve aged you’ve grown closer to me. You remember my life,” she turns, and they’re back at the gang’s open bathhouse, overgrowth creeping backwards. “Why is that?”

The Plant Teacher metamorphoses into a bath boy, poking at its hair rollers. “Your future is debating removing you from the cycle of reincarnation.”

Shoko looks over her shoulder, quirking a critical brow at him.

“I—“ his hands raise in defense of himself. “Maybe. It was just a stupid thought,” he muffles into his palm as he stares at their feet, uncomfortable and edgy. “Fern is immortal, he doesn’t have to die unless I do, and- and if I don’t die, then…”

“You’re afraid you won’t be able to find yourself in the next life,” she guesses, and he lifts a finger gun to the air without looking up. “You found the Princess, Finn, and we were barely friends. You found our closure, what makes you think you wouldn’t be able to find it again?”

“Maybe I’m tired of finding myself! Maybe- maybe I’m tired of going through painful junk and learning the same lessons just to find something good under it all,” his hands raise and slap back down to his sides as he walks in a circle on the concrete platform. “I’ve never been in love in any of my lives, and I finally have that. Why can’t I get off the ride if I have the chance? What if I want us to stay like we are?”

Shoko stops him, dragging him to sit on a cracked step as her life bustles around them in blurry, fluid dreamscapes. Finn watches with tired, drooping eyes as she releases the Ice King from a group of old witch women.

“That’s what life is, Finn. Sometimes we have our arm cut off by our father, sometimes we lose it trying to cling to him. It’s just how the cycle works. You can’t stop it.”

“I want to,” he murmurs, muscle of his jaw jumping. “I’ve finally got some stability.”

“Life is change,” the entity reminds him, lifting a slice of cucumber over its eye. “You cannot cross the stream without getting wet. You are not prone to give yourself to indolence, child, you are always moving, always changing. Do not falter to the soul erosion of a middling existence in vampirism, it is counterintuitive to your purpose.”

Finn groans, chest deflating. “I hate that determinism gunk. I’m not made for anything. I don’t believe in destiny.”

“No, I know you don’t. That does not stop it from being true.” It settles lower in the water, watching him. “You are a very purposeful being, Finn. You, a cosmic force trapped within a man cannot remove yourself from the cycle even if you wish it. You have yet to find your final method of being.”

“Not this comet crap again,” he whines, face tipping to the sky and eyes screwing up tight.

“Yes this comet crap again.” It snaps its fingers and they’re hung in the vast nothingness of space, Shoko scrambles to grab onto him, terrified.

“Finn!?” she screeches. “What’s it talking about?”

He curls an arm around her waist and hefts her higher. “We were put here to commit acts of ‘great good’,” Finn says, tense, “Davey stopped Orgalorg, you released Simon, I defeated the Lich, Penny blasts the cosmic elementals…” he pauses, brain skipping on the realization that he remembers her, “and some day we’ll ascend to the fourth dimension. I refused last time.” He nods with a rigid jerk to the comet, to Martin and the moth. “We’re… some godlike entity. But we forgot.” He swallows dry, throat constricting. “I don’t think about it. It makes me feel like- like my skin is on too tight.”

“You may reject predeterminism, but that does not stop it from affecting you,” the Teacher announces, loud enough to rattle his bones. “I can only help you if you’re open to it. Will you open yourself? Or will you pursue this dead ended, disillusioned passivity borne from the fear of your truth?”

He feels Shoko tremble in his arm, smells the sweet spices they used to use in her hair and sighs out a dejected “okay.” His feet hit the hardwood of the tree house’s kitchen, and he lets Shoko dismount his side, knees shaking and wobbly as she falls back into the dingy cushions of the wrap around sofa.

“That was terrifying,” she chokes with an airy laugh, forehead thunking to the table.

“… our bones are like, six feet away,” he thinks out loud and she shoots him a freaked out glance. “Sorry. Nerves.”

“Are you ready to face yourself, little hero?” It hangs from the ceiling, having taken on Marceline’s form.

A smarmy, weak grin stretches across his expression. “I already am, technically.”

“Don’t be tiresome, the other half of your soul gives me enough trouble.”

Finn snickers unevenly in the face of this unknowable tutelar, at the sensation of bantering with some infinite providence when he’s such a tiny animal.

He nods, and the strings of his being unravel as Shoko keeps hold on the red piece of yarn that connects them, steadying the knot at his center.

#keep yourself au #shoko #finn mertens

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literary-motif · 3 months

Note

Audric… write him dead. I need xanthus to kill him.. BUT ALL OF THEM SURVIVED… SO NO ANGST PLS I HAD ENOUGH ANGST… !!!

This is mostly fluff, I promise. Mostly. Maybe more hurt/comfort.

The Red River

Xanthus Claiborne X Reader

The origin of Xanthus' name.

Xanthus sighed contently, settling onto the sofa you had moved in front of the large window. He handed you a steaming cup of tea which you took with a smile, kissing his cheek in thanks as he leaned into your side. “The stars really are the most beautiful thing in existence,” you said into the silence of the night.

Dontis’ residence in New Orleans, although close to the city center, had a peculiar position that minimized the light pollution so drastically that you could see the multitude of stars twinkling happily in the sky as if you had been in the country, far away from civilization and alone with infinity stretching out before your eyes.

The blackness of the night sky was not truly darkness. If the light of the stars were stronger, you would be able to see all of them and most of the devouring darkness would disappear, instead filled with little points of burning white that would light up nearly the entire sky. There might be an unfathomable, empty distance between you and the sources of that light, but you were still overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of matter in the universe — the stars and planets and comets and who knew what else.

“I know a very cliché answer to that,” Xanthus smirked.

It took you a moment to realize what he was referring to, your thoughts still on the infinitely expanding universe. “The most beautiful thing, right after you, of course,” you said, beating him to the compliment.

He laughed, leaning in slowly to kiss your lips. Xanthus’ lips were always soft against yours, his kisses tender and calm as if he wanted to pour as much of his affection for you into them as he could. He always took his time, cherishing the moment shared between you.

Only once had he kissed you in desperation, terror and relief cursing through him as he held you in his arms after the disastrous mission to take down the Trimedian. You were still recovering from that. Dontis was gone on vacation with his hunter friend, the others had dispersed to live their lives, free from looking over their shoulders quite as much as before.

Xanthus was struggling, to put it mildly. What had happened had left a deep scar in his heart that could only heal with time. Sometimes when you awoke during the night, you saw him scrub at his hands compulsively as if trying to wash away Audric’s blood that he could still feel clinging to him.

“I can’t—” he had choked after waking from a nightmare, your arms firmly wrung around him, holding him together, “I can’t escape it. I can’t get it off of me. I can’t forget how he felt under me as I— as I—” You had never heard anyone sob as brokenly as Xanthus had that night.

His laugh was a welcome change to the sorrow clinging to him. You beamed at him as he broke the kiss, and placed your head on his shoulder to stare at the sky alongside him.

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed in appreciation as you tasted the sweetness of honey Xanthus had taken care to add. “You remembered,” you laughed fondly, placing another kiss against his neck.

“Of course I did, my love,” he answered, moving his arm to stroke along your side. “You told me you preferred your tea with honey only yesterday. Did you expect me to forget?”

“I mentioned it in passing.”

“So? It is important to me all the same,” he said, tilting his head to rest his cheek at the top of your head. “It really is breathtaking,” he whispered after a while of gazing at the stars.

You hummed, taking another sip of your tea. “Why ‘Xanthus’?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence beginning to settle over you again.

“Why what?” he wondered.

“Your name, I mean,” you clarified, “Why did you choose ‘Xanthus’?”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I— no one’s asked me that before.” He paused as if contemplating something.

“You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, love,“ Xanthus reassured you, moving his hand to hold yours, “It’s just very poetic in a way, and I never thought I would get to reveal that part of myself to anyone.”

The stars had lost their sway over you, and you glanced at Xanthus, seeing him blush. It was an adorable sight, but you did not dare tell him, choosing instead to kiss his lips. “I’d like to hear it, if you’re willing to share.” The look of pure adoration in his eyes made your breath hitch for a moment.

“I’d love to,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder again, absentmindedly tracing small circles into the back of his hand with your thumb. “Have you read the Iliad?”

Despite yourself, the question made you laugh. “‘Rage — Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles.’ Only in translation.”

“Well, there is a river flowing outside the city of Troy, the one who tried drowning Achilles in book twenty-one it was, I think. The river-god was angry at him because all the Trojans he killed were clogging up the river, tainting the water red with blood. It was called Scamander by the mortals and Xanthus by the gods, according to Homer. And I believe it was Seneca—”

“The stoic philosopher?” you asked.

“Exactly. He said in his Troades something like ‘He — Achilles — choked rivers with corpses, and Xanthus, seeking his way, wandered slowly along with bloody stream.’ I always thought the name was fitting,” Xanthus concluded, his faraway gaze remaining fixed on the stars that had stopped being of interest to you long ago.

You squeezed his hand, raising it to your lips in a small gesture of comfort.

“I have done horrible things,” he whispered, clenching his jaw and blinking away tears that started to gather in his eyes, “and although I try to leave the past behind with every new name and identity I take, I never quite succeed to wash the blood off of my hands. I think it’s fitting. My past has never stopped tainting me, but opposed to Achilles’ Xanthus, I filled the river with corpses myself.”

You set down your cup on the windowsill in front of you, gathering Xanthus into your arms. “My love,” you began, running your fingers through his hair and peppering soft kisses on his face until he broke into a small smile, “my beautiful, kind, adorable love.”

Xanthus blushed, trying to hide his face in your shoulder, but you tilted his chin up instead, making him look into your eyes.

“You’re everything to me,” you said earnestly, “the kindest being I have ever encountered, the most relentlessly hard-working to assure the people you care about are safe, the most inexhaustibly generous, the most loving, my love. I have never felt so adored, Xanthus, and I love you with all my heart — every part of you, present, past, and future — no matter what was and will be.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, pulling you into a crushing embrace before the two of you got comfortable on the couch once more, stargazing until the morning sun hid their twinkling light from view again.

#sakuverse #xanthus claiborne #xanthus x reader #xanthus claiborne x reader

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rosanna-writer · 4 months

Text

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

Summary: Five times Rhys and Feyre stared at the stars (and one time they painted their own). Warnings: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: ~2.2k

This is for @star-captain, my bonus giftee for @acotargiftexchange! I had a lot of fun writing some Feysand stargazing fluff for the fandom's resident astrobiologist <3

And again, a HUGE thank you to the event organizers for all their work putting this together!

You can find it Here on AO3 or under the cut!

Taking girls stargazing worked every time. Rhysand had made countless exes melt over how romantic it was to sit out under the stars, especially when there was just enough of a chill in the night air that they'd cuddle closer as he pointed out constellations one by one.

He should have known it wouldn't work on Feyre.

Really, it had seemed like a miracle that she'd even agreed to go out with him in the first place—Rhys had never met anyone so dead-set on calling him a prick. For a long time, the blush that stained her freckled cheeks every time he'd purred Feyre darling seemed like the most he'd ever get.

But on the drive out to a park far enough from the city to see the stars properly, the conversation had flowed easily between them. Rhys had itched to put his hand on her thigh as she she'd adjusted the radio and jokingly criticized his taste in music the whole way.

Now she'd settled in a camping chair, a light blanket around her shoulders and a thermos of coffee in hand, her head tilted back to look at the sky. Feyre was the most beautiful woman Rhys had ever seen, but somehow, she looked even better in the moonlight, and he was tempted to spend the whole night staring at her and not the stars they'd come to see.

And Rhys suspected if he spent hours just gawking at her, there wouldn't be a second date.

He settled into the chair next to her and started with the same routine he always used when he took someone stargazing. "We're facing north. That bright star directly in front of us is Polaris—"

"I know. And the Big Dipper is right there," Feyre said pointing.

So she'd done this before, then. Rhys relaxed, glad that he wouldn't spend half the night mapping out the basics of the night sky. He would have done it gladly for Feyre, but there were better ways to spend a rare perfectly clear night providing a tutorial.

"Which is your favorite?"

As she started telling him about Orion's belt Feyre's smile was bright enough to light up the entire night. Rhys hung on her every word, memorizing exactly why she'd always loved the hunter, because there was nothing that seemed more important than knowing her inside and out.

By the end of the night, Rhys was sure he was going to marry her some day.

***

Feyre woke to the feather-light brush of Rhys's fingers in her hair. Making a low noise in the back of her throat, she buried her face deeper into the pillow. He chuckled, sweeping his thumb along her cheek.

"I know the bed is comfortable, but I promise the surprise is worth waking up for," he said softly.

Feyre cracked open one blue-grey eye. "There's a surprise?"

"When it's your birthday and the longest night of the year? Of course."

Feyre sat up slowly, pulling the quilt with her. She blinked at Rhys owlishly, taking in the layers he was dressed in. Only an hour before, he'd been in bed with her, wearing nothing at all. "Are we…going somewhere?"

"Yes, stargazing. So bundle up."

Feyre shot out of bed like a cannonball and dug out one of Rhys's sweatshirts from the closet. "I didn't think you'd want to go," she said, shrugging it on over her t-shirt.

"Last year, you said no one would go on your birthday because December was too cold."

"You remembered that?"

Rhys wasn't sure he could have forgotten—she'd looked so heartbroken over something easily remedied by a good coat, thick socks, and hand warmers. The temperature might have plunged, but they'd been lucky enough to have another clear night, as if the stars wanted to shine their brightest on Feyre's birthday.

And beyond that, he'd been panicking for months over what to do for her first birthday since they'd started dating. She'd struggled to accept gifts gracefully for as long as he'd known her, and he hated seeing her stammer and insist whatever she'd been given was too much.

But Feyre didn't need to know how long he'd been agonizing for. He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his sweater as she rooted around in a drawer for a hat. "There isn't much about you that's easy to forget."

An hour later, they'd managed to get the telescope set up, even with their hands wrapped up in thick gloves. Their breath made clouds in the air as they took turns adjusting it and peering up at the stars.

By the time they tumbled back into bed, the sun had nearly risen. It had taken the last of Feyre's energy to peel off her coat and all the layers under it, and she'd nearly fallen back to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Rhys's arms banded around her, pulling her close as she whispered, "This was the best birthday I can remember."

***

After nearly a year of dating, they'd planned their summer travel around the Perseids. The late-August heat cooled off enough to make nights perfectly comfortable for watching the annual meteor shower. For months, Feyre had been looking forward to getting out of the city and watching it with Rhys.

But of course, a summer thunderstorm had gotten in the way of their plans.

In the days leading up to the trip, Rhys had been watching the weather obsessively, fretting over every last change in the predicted cloud cover. More than once, Feyre had nudged him to stop refreshing the page and just come to bed.

In the end, they'd decided not to cancel. Partial cloud cover, chance of rain low. It seemed worth risking it for the chance to watch shooting stars streak across the sky all night.

But the cloud cover turned out to be quite a lot worse than just partial. They'd only just gotten settled when a storm rolled in, and the rain began to pour.

Rhys and Feyre packed up their things in record time and made a mad dash back to the car. Feyre sighed with relief once they were out of the rain—only to shriek in surprise at the droplets that hit her as Rhys shook his head like a dog.

"Sorry," he said, pushing a wet lock of hair out of his eyes.

Feyre shrugged. "It's not as if I was dry anyway."

Now that she'd caught her breath, she let her gaze roam over him. Rhys's t-shirt had been stark white against his warm brown skin, and now it clung to his chest, the swirling tattoos that covered it showing through the material.

He was beautiful, and sometimes Feyre couldn't believe her luck that he was hers.

Even if he was smirking at her as if he could read her thoughts.

In the end, they'd attempted to salvage the evening by finding a place to eat. Not that there were many options this late. It took a while to find a place that stayed open all night, a diner called Rita's that seemed to be the only one for miles.

They were still waterlogged when the waitress showed them to their table. Feyre caught the hungry stares at Rhys and had nearly growled a warning to back off. Something in his eyes glittered.

When they were alone in their booth, he'd leaned in close and whispered, "You know I'm yours and yours alone, Feyre darling."

She'd shivered, not just because of the cold air on her wet skin.

***

Feyre hadn't thought much about how entwined their lives had felt until the solar eclipse was approaching. Hotels in the path of totality filled up well in advance—years in advance, even. But somehow, it didn't feel like wishful thinking to assume she'd be going with Rhys.

And she'd been right, of course. They shared a townhouse now, and Rhys was the person she came home to every day. I f Feyre had her way, that would be true for the rest of her life.

So a few weeks before the trip, Feyre found herself buying a ring.

By some miracle, she'd kept it hidden for weeks, tucked away in the back of a closet and the pocket of her coat. Throughout the drive, checking into their hotel, and dinner, Rhys hadn't seemed to suspect a thing.

But still, as darkness fell the next day and the moon moved in front of the sun, Feyre's heart leapt into her throat. She couldn't imagine he'd say no, but….a small part of her still worried Rhys might.

Her fingers curled around the box in her pocket, clutching it as if to steady herself. She took a deep breath and watched the sky through the tinted glasses they'd bought for the occasion.

Rhys's fingers brushed her other hand. The moon was nearly directly in front of the sun. It was now or never. Feyre dropped to one knee, pulling the box from her pocket, and tugged on Rhys's hand for his attention.

Only to find that he'd just done the same thing.

For a moment, they just stared at each other in shock, both kneeling with a ring in hand, then burst into laughter. Feyre launched herself into Rhys's arms.

"Should I take that to mean the answer is yes?" he said, kissing her.

"Of course it is."

"So is mine, if that wasn't obvious."

***

Eloping in the middle of the night was tempting. And with every frustration over finding a caterer and a photographer and a baker and every other task that seemed to be piling up as the wedding approached, it seemed even more tempting.

But they'd both been far too set on the idea of a ceremony in a planetarium to let all the planning to go waste.

Feyre tilted her head back and looked up at the stars as she waited to walk down the aisle. The planetarium had arranged them to replicate the sky on the first night they'd gone stargazing together. Just as she had then, she found Polaris with ease, right above the altar where Rhys was waiting for her.

Her worries about tripping on her dress or stumbling over the words in her vows melted away. Like so many had before her, Feyre looked up at the stars and knew with certainty exactly where to find home.

The rest of the day felt like a dream—when the music started, Feyre felt as if she'd floated down the aisle, pulled to Rhys by a string nestled next to both their hearts. In some ways, they'd always belonged to each other, but declaring it in front of their loved ones had her nearly glowing with happiness.

***

Long before the pregnancy test had come back positive, they'd both known the nursery would be covered in stars. And once they'd heard the name Nyx, Rhys and Feyre had agreed that nothing else sounded quite right.

Feyre had resolved to paint the nursery ceiling well before she started showing and standing too long on swollen feet became impossible. As early as possible, she'd bought several cans of glow-in-the-dark paint and printed out a map of the stars.

Rhys leaned against the doorframe and watched her—the meticulous way she painted each star, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she focused, and the delicate curve of her fingers around the paintbrush. Given the opportunity, he could watch Feyre paint for hours.

When her concentration finally broke, he said, "Is there anything you need my help with?"

"Do you mind opening the can of paint near my feet?"

He did as she asked, stepping closer to pick up the can of paint that was sitting next to the ladder. As Rhys pried the lid open, flecks of paint splattered across his face. He blinked in surprise, and Feyre giggled.

Rhys went to wipe the paint from his face, but Feyre said, "Wait, no! Not yet."

She climbed down the ladder and crossed the room to turn off the lights. The paint began to glow, making Rhys look like he was covered in stardust.

He tipped his head back to admire the half-finished mural on the ceiling. "It's already beautiful."

"You think so?" Feyre came closer, wrapping an arm around his waist as she surveyed her work. Mapping the sky had been a meticulous, painstaking process, but she could see the final result beginning to come together. It would be worth it, if only just to have the soft glow illuminating midnight feedings when Nyx arrived.

"Everything you make is beautiful." Rhys pressed a kiss to her temple, which distracted Feyre enough that she didn't notice his fingers dipping back into the can of paint. He flicked some onto her, so she looked like she was covered in stardust, too.

"Rhysand," she squeaked, moving to wipe the paint away.

He caught her wrist before she could. "Don't. It looks like your freckles are glowing."

Feyre started to say that if he wasted any more of the paint, she'd be sending him back to the craft store, but the way he was looking at her stole her breath. Rhys leaned in to kiss her, under the stars as always.

#feysand #feysand and nyx #rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

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ann-writes-universes · 1 year

Text

For The Better (Azriel x Eris x Reader)

A/N: Based on this ask! LIVING for an angsty/fluffy Azriel and Eris love triangle. (OKAY JK I accidentally posted this in a reply to that ask and had to delete it so the ask went poof, sorry anon. I hope you see this <3)

Warnings: My angst strikes again, mentions of possible infidelity, arguing, bit of asshole Eris (if you squint and tilt your head).

W/C: 11.1k oops

–

There is no way you could ever love someone more. You decided this much as you stared into his hazel eyes, rimmed with gold and so full of life. He was everything you had ever dreamed of- kind, fiercely loyal, so utterly easy to be in love with. You had begged for something like this since you were a girl, and the gods had delivered in the form of him.

“You’re staring at me.” He muttered, lips pulling into a smile as he pushed your hair away from your face. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging at the male as you leaned forward to steal a kiss from his chapped lips.

“Sorry?”

“Apology accepted fair maiden.” Eris whispered, pressing you into the grass with his frame as he captured your lips once more. You gripped his sleeves tightly, allowed the Lordling to press you into the foliage below. Everything about this, about him, was perfect. You had loved him since before you could remember, since the two of you were old enough to grasp the concept and hold it in your palms. And he had felt the same, claimed you as his own the moment he could. And you had allowed it, let his fire consume you entirely. The bond you two shared was not that fated soul tie so many spoke of, but the kind that young love was meant to be- passionate, consuming, and fleeting.

Ah yes, fleeting it had been.

You had loved the future High Lord of Autumn for thirty years. Had given him everything, and he did the same in return. Somewhere along the line, fuzzy as it was so many years later, the two of you had drifted- realized that it wasn't love you had shared but lust. You loved that flame haired male still, deeply and truly, but not in the way that lovers did. No- the two of you felt deeply for one another in a different way. In a way that allowed him to be overjoyed when your mating bond snapped with the Spymaster of the Night court. A way that allowed him to wish you well when you accepted the bond and married the angel of death.

And it was a love that made room for what you felt for Azriel.

If the love you had shared with Eris was a forest fire, the way you felt for Azriel was a comet, bright and powerful as it lit up the night sky.

“You are absolutely pushing my buttons today, I need you to know that.” Azriel laughed as he threw his book to the end of the bed. You smiled widely against his chest and tightened the bear hug you had on him. With a deep sigh the spymaster wrapped his arms around you and burrowed his head into your hair.

“I just wanted attention, that's all.” You mumbled against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his arms tightening at your words. He hummed into your hair and pressed a firm kiss there.

“Do you know how long we’ve been together now?”

“A long time, why do you ask?” He replied, raising a brow as you sat up, straddling his waist. You pressed your palms firmly into his tattooed chest, traced the patterns there momentarily as you shrugged.

“45 years is a long time, isnt it?” You mused, letting your eyes trail up his muscular chest until it reached his eyes. A brow was raised and his head was cocked to the side, night dark hair falling over his forehead messily.

Gently he flipped you onto the bed, hovered over you and allowed his arms to cage you in. The male pressed a firm kiss into the column of your throat, sucked the pulse there momentarily before meeting your eyes once more.

“Got a whole lot longer to go, if you’ll have me.” He whispered gruffly, eyes always searching. A smile tugged at your lips as you raised your arms to rest on his neck. You pulled him towards you, the tips of your noses meeting gently.

“I’ll have you for as long as we’re around, shadowsinger.” And he kissed you then, deeply, letting his love shine down the bond ever bright, and long.

“What could I possibly accomplish in the Autumn Court that Eris can not?” You questioned boredly, leaning further back into the chase lounge. You had been absentmindedly tossing a small ball above your head, and Rhys was watching it with piqued annoyance as you questioned his orders.

“Eris can’t get any more information from the ladies of his court. You know them, they grew up with you, they trust you.” He repeated, as if he had not said this a million times in the last hour.

With an exasperated huff you turned your head to face him, noted his slouched posture in the arm chair he had taken residence in. “What you mean to say is, politics does not make good pillow talk?”

Rhys cringed outwardly and rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Oh, you were pushing buttons. “I'm only Kidding, Rhys. I’ll go. Been a minute since I have been home. I wonder what those tree loving, forest fuckers are up to.” You giggled, resuming your game of solo catch.

“Good. You’ll leave today then.”

“Where are you going?” It was Az, striding past the living room. He stopped at the threshold of the room, pulling on a pair of dark leather boots. You caught the ball in a hand, cut your gaze to the winged male.

Rhys sucked in a breath and stood, “I have to meet with some colleagues in town for lunch.”

“Your only colleagues are us, Rhys.” Azriel deadpanned, raising a questioning brow when Rhys only smiled and strode out of the house. “He’s awfully flustered…”

You cleared your throat and sat up, “He’s flustered because I’m being sent home for the week.”

Azriel barked a laugh as he finished putting on his shoes, “You are home, darling.”

Smiling faintly you stood and moved towards him, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist as you stared up at him.

“Not this home, shadowsinger.” Your words had his gaze hardening and the hands that had come to rest on your waist stiffening. He flexed his fingers, took you in with a soft ‘oh’. You only forced that smile resting on your lips to be a bit more deceiving, a bit more convincing. Tapping his waist you pushed away from him, urged him towards the door with a soft kiss.

“I’ll be alright. I'll go see my mom, get the info we need, and come home to you.”

He nodded, reached for the door handle as he watched you gather your things from the living room, “Are you going to see Eris?”

Your hand paused, hovering over a book you had brought down earlier. Scooping it into your arms you did not turn to face him as you continued your task, “I have to, yes.”

“I see.” He muttered.

“Az-”

“No, it's alright. Inevitable I suppose.”

You turned to him then, shoulders hunched and eyes pleading. “It's strictly business, baby. Nothing more.” You stepped towards him again, pressed a kiss to the corner of his downturned lips, “Besides, I’ve only got eyes for you.”

It seemed to ebb his mind a little, because the dark male smiled and chuckled lightly. With a promise to take you to dinner when you returned, the Spymaster was gone for the day, leaving you to get ready and head off.

The Autumn court had not changed in nearly half a century. Jewel toned leaves blanketed the ground, and the air still smelled like the perfect mixture of wood smoke and cinnamon. You were nearly giddy taking it all in, reveling in the familiarity as your horse made its way slowly down the Vanserra Estate’s drive. You were to come here first, make contact with Eris and rekindle your place as a court’s woman.

It was no secret you had left long ago, though the reasoning had been hidden well by your flame haired friend. The eldest Edoril child had simply moved to the Day court to study magic, a lie eaten up by Beron and his court.

Slipping back into his ranks would be easy, begged for, as being a child of higher ranking officials made you precious to the Tyrannical Lord of Autumn who had always wished for you to become the Court’s next heir producer. Though Beron knew nothing of the mating bond you had accepted, you had taken precautions to make sure he did not find out. Majda had surgically wounded you in her quarters before you left, and used a healing salve so potent that most (if not all) of Azriel’s scent had been masked. Upon your arrival at the Autumn court you had hidden your noticeably Night Court tattoos with extensive glamours. Of course, these measures would only go so far, and you hoped you could get what you needed relatively quickly.

Before you, the forest manor loomed. Just as the rest of the court, it had hardly changed. It was still as beautiful as it had been when you were a child. Color exploded around it like flames, oranges and reds licking up the bright stone walls. A stream broke up the rolling front lawn and twisted off into the darkened wood beyond. The trickle of water and the soft music of the birds was the only sound as you approached, the gravel clattering beneath the hooves of your pale mare.

As though he had sensed your arrival, there he stood. Tall and stunning as his home, Eris Vanserra awaited you atop the steps. Hands clasped behind his back, and a smile wide as the Sidra he watched as you dismounted, straightened your skirts, and made your way towards him.

“Lady Edoril.” He greeted, bending low at the waist and extending a hand towards you. Ceremony be damned, you raced forward. Eris only had time to huff out a breathy chuckle before you were toppling into him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“I’ve missed you.” You breathed into his hair, ever so politely he wrapped his arms around your back, squeezed tight.

“And I, you.” His voice was a tight whisper as he sat you down and held you at an arm's length. Just like his court lands, he had not changed. The years had added nothing to his face other than a few more freckles and perhaps a scar or two.

“How is he?” Eris asked in a hushed tone, glancing over his shoulder quickly before returning his gaze to you.

“Wonderful as always, sends his regards.”

The lordling nodded and took a deep breath. Offering your arm you nodded towards the entryway, “Are you ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be, Vanserra.”

He chuckled, looping his arm through yours and leading you inside. As custom, several servants lined the entry hall, arms poised across their chests and faces hidden by dark cloths issued by Beron. What a pity it would be for him to gaze upon the faces of those he practically enslaved. The sight of them made you force down a shudder and physically pull a smile onto your features as Berron appeared at the end of the hall. The face you had grown to hate was wide with a grin that reminded you of an animal looking at its prey, and his posture was nothing short of defensive as you approached.

The velvet of your skirts whispered against the marble below as you came to a stop and curtsied low, avoiding his eyes. “High Lord.” Your greeting was as formal as you could force it, and the polite smile and doe eyes you offered were so far from your current caliber that you nearly threw up on the floor.

“What a pleasure it is to host you once more, (y/n). The Autumn Court has missed your beauty.” Beron spoke, and when his eyes raked over your figure, Eris noticeably stiffened beside you. Clearing your throat you cocked your head to the side, batted your eyelashes to hide the anger building on your features.

“How kind of you, I am flattered.” You tried not to think of the male back home who would have ripped the bastard to shreds had he witnessed the exchange. Tried desperately not to think of what Berron’s head would look like detached from his shoulders.

Eris nudged your side with his elbow, and nodded to his father, “Perhaps we should let her rest before the events tonight. She has traveled quite the length.”

“Nonsense, Eris. The Day court is merely two days travel.” Berron jested though it came out in some terrible scoff.

“Events?” It was a question meant to steer the conversation far away from what you had been up to for the last 45 years, and when Berron returned his wolfish eyes to you it was clear it had worked.

“A ball, in your honor sweet (y/n). Several members of the court have expressed great excitement at your return.”

“Several?” You blanched, looking quickly to Eris who merely blushed and looked away, “I am flattered.” You grit it out, narrowly avoiding punching your longest running friend in the face in front of his father.

So much for subtlety.

After twenty more painful minutes of conversation Beron and Eris had dismissed you to a room to dress. They had provided a dress for you, hand picked by the Lady of Autumn herself. As you stood before the bed wrapped in nothing but a towel you stared at it, a pretty little thing of dark navy silk. The back dipped low and was secured at the base with a beaded sun whose rays curved around the hips.

‘To honor the court which has hosted you’

The Lady’s note had read. And while the gesture was kind, the dark blues and stark gold of the sun reminded you not of the Day court but of the home you had left, and the sapphire Siphons Azriel adorned. You let a finger trail down the material, and wondered how you could secure the various weapons you had in a discreet way.

A knock sounded at the door.

“(y/n)?” Eris called softly, cracking the door enough to be heard, “Are you decent?”

You glanced downward at your towel, “Uh, shit, One minute!” You called hurriedly, discarding the towel in favor of a robe. Tying it haphazardly you ran to the door to open it and usher him in, glancing down the hall to make sure no prying eyes had seen.

“Yes?”

When you turned to face him he was beet red, staring at your nearly fully exposed chest. With nimble fingers you clutched your robe tight and cleared your throat. Eris let out a hearty chuckle and flopped into a chair near the fireplace.

“Not funny, dickhead.” You sneered, taking up your place at the vanity to begin getting ready. He had changed into a tunic of deep crimson, patterned with silver thread and beads, as well as dark trousers and boots. Atop his head he donned a silver diadem of twisted vines, characteristic of the next High Lord.

“You've been home for two hours and have already nearly exposed yourself to me, must be something in the air.” He jested, lazing his head on the back of his chair. Your grip on your hairbrush tightened so much it nearly snapped the wooden handle.

“Must I remind you that I have a mate who I love?” You didn't mean to snap at him, but when his reflection paled and his throat bobbed you softened. “I'm sorry.” You whispered, breaking his gaze in the mirror and returning to pinning your hair.

“Don't be. I spoke wrongly.”

With not a reply in mind you only nodded and brought up less meaningful conversation as you moved through the motions of getting ready. The two of you fell into conversation easily. You spoke of music, hunting, magic, and meaningless things you had been occupying your time with when you weren't doing important things.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He questioned as you exited the bathroom, struggling to clasp the beaded sun on the back of your gown.

“Yeah, it should be easy.” You grunted, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. “Could you help me?” You inquired, turning to face your reflection in the mirror above the vanity. The dress was stunning, hugged you in the right places without being vulgar (though you wouldn't have minded).

“Of course.” Eris replied, suddenly impossibly close to your back. His stature was imposing, nearly a head taller than you his shadow swallowed you whole as his hands skimmed the length of your bare spine, stopping at its base to secure the clasp.

“Eris…” You breathed quietly when his fingers lingered and his breath fanned your neck. Clearing his throat he stepped away, admiring you as you turned to face him.

“Stunning.”

The smile you offered was painful. The thrumming of your heart lurched as you noted the mourning look he viewed you with. You thanked him quietly and began strapping various daggers to your legs beneath the dress.

“And deadly.” He added with a low whistle.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll kill you.” You chuckled, tightening a final strap before straightening. He held his hands up in mock surrender and offered a wink.

“No harm in looking if I do not touch.”

Rolling your eyes you held out your arm, “Escort me to the ball, Dipshit, before I send a message down the bond telling Az to castrate you next time he sees you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Berron’s opulence knew no bounds. That much was made apparent by the silks and various other fabrics in jeweled tones that lined the ceilings and snaked around the pillars of his ballroom. Faelights lit the length of it in a warm hue and music dark and lustful filled its space. Usually empty and ghostly the room was now buzzing with the vibrato of life, and as you entered at the side of Eris the room erupted in soft awe and clapping.

You offered the crowd a smile, tightening your grip on Eris’s arm as you became painfully aware of how many eyes were on you. Eris dismissed you quickly, let you fall among the throngs of women you had grown up with to gossip and gain information.

“Is Helion as beautiful as they say he is?” It was Arien, a male you had grown up with who quipped the question. The smile that curved his lips as he drank deeply from his glass was nothing short of playful if not a bit curious.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, “I suppose, If muscles and brain are what you’re into.”

The male before you fawned, fanning his face and giggling with the ranks of young women who surrounded you. “Who doesnt?”

“I guess you’re right about that.” You chuckled, turning your attentions to a dark haired female at his side. If you remembered correctly her name was Lucy. Much younger than you, she was the daughter of an Army Captain, High Ranking in Beron’s mounted battalion. She was characteristic of Autumn Court beauty, Chestnut hair that flowed and curled softly to the waist, dark doe eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her perfectly sloped nose.

“Lucy, correct?” You questioned innocently, twirling the dark liquid in your glass. Her smile was shy and she dipped her head in conformation. She would be easy to coax information out of, young and awestruck by the woman Eris had entered with. Briefly you thought she would be a perfect Lady of Autumn had Eris been like his father, impressionable, naive.

“That's right!” You quipped, swallowing a bit of wine, “You’re Captain Jameson’s daughter!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, Indeed I am.” She offered.

“I remember now. You were a little thing when I left all those years ago, my you have blossomed into a stunning young thing.”

She flushed noticeably and held her chin a little higher, her gaze cut across the room to where you knew a gaggle of Vanserra boys were standing. Oh easy she would be. Finishing your glass you handed it to Airen and urged him to fetch you another, to which he happily obliged if only to get closer to the brothers in question.

You followed her gaze, let the smile you were holding back curl on your lip as you crossed your arms over your chest, “Which one?”

“Pardon?” She questioned with creased brows as she turned her head towards you.

“Which brother?” You mused, not taking your eyes off of the red headed sons, “I must admit they are all quite stunning, but which one.”

“Oh, none.” She blanked but you watched her lingering stare on Eris. And despite yourself and the mission at hand you felt a flame of jealousy spark in your chest before being snuffed by the bond lingering there. Swallowing thickly you chuckled and began speaking to her of meaningless things, slowly steering her towards conversation of her father.

“Shall we walk in the gardens?” You inquired after several hours of conversation and dancing with Lucy amongst other females who had proven less informative than the Jameson girl. The question was directed solely at her, and the others took their dismissal lightly. Lucy nodded politely, and handed her glass off to a passing servant as you did.

“I’d love to.”

As you linked your arm with her own and directed her towards the garden doors you subtly signaled Eris of your leave. He offered you a nod before continuing his conversation with a brother who’s name had long since been forgotten in your mind.

“So your father is not in attendance tonight?” The question was harmless, “I would have loved to say hello after all of these years. Offer him my regards.”

“Oh, no.” Lucy sighed breathily, admiring the various plants and ferns manicured to perfection along the stone pathway. Night had long since fallen and the cool breeze custom to the lands was licking fervently at every exposed inch of skin as you steered the dark haired girl further from the home. The music was slowly fading from earshot and the few fae that dotted the gardens were becoming few and far between as the two of you strolled.

“What a pity.” The frown you forced was effortless, “Pray tell… where might he be? The High Lord made such a fuss over this ball I assumed all of his inner circle would be here.”

She smiled sadly, picked a leaf from a passing bush and twirled it amongst her fingers.

“He’s on the coast, surveying another fleet that was just finished being built.”

You hummed your acknowledgement, noted the information in your brain. Before now you knew of only 6 Autumn Court Fleets. And now there were more? That Eris did not know about? You rolled the stiffness out of your shoulders.

“I suppose if my father were still living he too would be doing the same. Our fathers were quite close, you know?” She brought you to an abrupt halt, far from the eyes of those who had lingered outside and the earshot of those inside.

“I do, actually. Which makes me wonder why you're doing this.” Lucy deadpanned, unlooping her arm from yours and turning to face you fully. You cocked your head to the side, and the confusion that marked your features was not fake.

“Pardon?”

With motions so swift you could hardly track them the dark haired beauty had shot forward and wrapped a hand around your mouth. Flames, bright and painful, shot up your side as she shoved the sharp edge of a dagger into the junction of your ribs.

The only noise heard between her fingers was a stark gasp as your knees buckled and you fell into her. From afar it looked as though you were old time friends, embracing for the first time in centuries.

“For you to know my father so well, It shocks me that you would think of him as dumb enough not to send his only child through some sort of training.” She hissed into your ear. Your hands were grasping her shoulders so tightly that your knuckles were whitening, and the dark navy of your dress was growing soaked with the metallic tang of blood.

Lucy drug you to a bench, deposited the two of you on it in a way that rose no suspicion.

“For a girl who has studied magic for 45 years your glamors are weak.” She threaded the fingers of your right hand through her own and extended your arm to view the dark swirls and patterns that were now visible, the glamors too exhausting on your struggling body. “Night court, correct?”

“Fuck you.” You hissed through gritted teeth, groaning as she pushed her free hand into the gaping wound at your side.

“How proud of me Berron will be when the future Lady of Autumn brings you to him!” She grinned, her eyes widening madly. You gaped, stared at her with an opened mouth and slitted eyes.

You couldnt help the laugh that bubbled out of your throat.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” She urged, her blood stained dagger pointed at your stomach. With a raised brow you looked down at it.

Azriel had prepared you for situations like this, and 45 years in a court known for brutality would not allow you to die at the hands of a little girl. Mustering what strength you had left you lunged. “Training” or not the dagger she held clattered to the stone pathway below and you had her arms pinned to the dirt within seconds. Your own blood smattered onto her emerald gown as you straddled her, grinning wolfishly at her shocked expression.

“For you to have me figured out so well its quite naive of you to think the High Lord of Night would not have sent me to a training or two.” You hissed, pressing your knee into her sternum as she geared up to scream.

“You have approximately five seconds to tell me everything you know about those fleets before I kill you and Beron Vanserra finds us both dead in his garden.”

“I'm not telling you shit.” She hissed, struggling beneath the weight of your knee. You huffed a shallow breath and nodded. “Fine.”

With a twist of your hand her left wrist cracked grotesquely and hung limply when you raised the arm. Her scream of pain was stifled by your free hand.

“Your pretty little eyes are next, Lucy.” You whispered, dropping your head to be level with her ear, “And take it from me, Eris wouldn’t like a girl with gaping holes for eyes, bitch.”

She let out a great growl and turned her head to the side, taking your ear between her teeth and ripping. You stifled your scream and sat back, keenly aware of the blood dripping down your neck.

Boots crunched roughly against stone and suddenly eris was there, wide eyed and breathless.

“What the fuck.”

“Eris! Oh thank gods you have to help me she’s insane!” Lucy cried, suddenly producing tears. She was staring up at him from beneath you. Surely the two of you looked like wild animals, blood smattered and rolling in the dirt.

Eris glanced around frantically, and when he was sure no one was around he crouched down and looked into your eyes.

“I need her in the woods.” You whispered, nodding towards her form. Lucy’s brows creased as he nodded and clamped a hand over her mouth before hoisting her out from below you. She thrashed in his arms to no avail and when you stood the Vanserra son paled.

“You’re bleeding.”

“No shit, Eris.” You grunted, clasping a hand over your bleeding side.

“No. You're bleeding a lot.”

You glanced down, swallowed down the fear that bubbled up when you realized just how much blood was pouring from your side. It should have healed by now…Glancing at Eris you retrieved Lucy’s blade quickly and sniffed its blood coated tip.

Eyes wide you looked to the female who was breathing heavily in Eris’s arms.

“Sneaky little bitch covered it in fae bane.” You shoved the dagger into a belt on your thigh and rolled your shoulders, “Your death is going to fucking suck.” You hissed.

Getting the Jameson daughter into a deep enough part of the woods was like wrestling a wild animal. Even with Eris’s strength she proved to be a hassle, and with your wound Eris had to continuously slow down so you could catch up.

With her firmly secured to a tree by Eris’s flame magic you stood before her. The trek had destroyed your dress, and you had ripped the side completely to have easier access to the knives strapped to your legs.

“What did she tell you?” Eris questioned, cupping his jaw with a hand. His other was on his hip as he stared at the bound girl, brows creased.

“That your father had been building naval fleets.”

Eris looked at you, utterly confused, “How many?”

You looked to Lucy and grinned, twirling a night dark blade between your fingers. “Im about to find out.”

“The fuck you are.” Lucy spit, a mixture of saliva and blood falling to your feet. You glanced at it with mild amusement before surging forward. Ignoring the pain that shot through your side you pressed the blade against her throat. She swallowed, the bobbing of her throat drawing blood against the sharpened edge of your weapon.

“You either make this easy or I send you back to your daddy in pieces.”

Eris whistled lowly and shifted behind you, “Thats kind of hot.” He muttered.

“Not the fucking time.” You ground out, not once taking your eyes off Lucy’s. She glanced downward at your hand.

“You won't do it. Too messy for you, hard to explain how I died at a ball hosted for you.” She was grasping for straws, growing nervous.

“I wont?” You purred innocently with a cock of your head. She shook her head, a motion that had you whipping your hand down and dragging the blade up the length of her arm. The skin flayed open easily and her pained scream was swallowed by the shadows of the forest around you.

“How many fleets?” You asked again, pressing the blade against her jaw. Her lips thinned and she looked to the sky. Nodding you pressed it against her jaw and drug upwards.

“Hopefully Beron only hosts masquerades in the future.” You grimaced as she screamed. Blood sticky and crimson dripped down her chin and collided with your own as it flowed down your arm and to the forest floor below.

“How many fleets? Your fucking fingers are next.”

“FOUR.” She sobbed into your palm. Your fingers had curled around her jaw, gripping tightly.

“Only four?”

“Four and he is training 500 more mounted soldiers. That's ALL I know.” She was sobbing so violently that her tears were cleaning her face faster than the blood could flow. If she hadn't torn a sizable chunk out of your ear earlier you might have felt bad.

“Good girl!” You sputtered, becoming more aware of the wound at your side whose pain had snaked from your waist into your chest. Glancing at Eris you nodded and stumbled away from Lucy who was wracking with sobs.

“She’s telling the truth.” You whispered, clutching your side.

“You're sure?” He questioned, glancing between the two of you. With deathly precision you swung backward and silenced her screams as you pierced the skin of her chest with your blade, dragging downward against the sickening pop and crunch of her ribs.

“Gods I hope so.” You sighed, collapsing to the forest floor with a groan. Eris’ eyes tore away from the now dead female, his magic releasing her form to fall limply forward. Surging towards you he caught you before you could fully fall.

“We need to get you to a healer.” He urged, hoisting you into his arms. You were limp in his arms and fighting off the darkness that had begun to cloud your vision. Panic was snaking down the bond, only noticeable now that you weren't focused on the task at hand.

“Can you winnow me home, Eris?” You muttered. The words urged you to cough, blood smattering the sides of your lips as the air forced itself from your lungs. He clutched you to his chest tightly, his heart quickening beneath your bloodstained cheek.

“It'll be quicker if I run, it's only a mile or so back, I can-”

You clutched his tunic tightly and urged him to look at you, “My home Eris.” You grit out, eyes wide with panic. “If you do not get me out of here he will break every law known to come to me.” You were pleading with him to listen to you. The anger that was surging down the bond was proof of your words you wish you could communicate to him.

“Its too far. You wont make it there.” Eris retorted, tears welling in his eyes as he took in the palor of your skin. You had grown uncomfortably cold in his arms and the chill of the night air was not helping your shuddering.

“The forest then. Somewhere that the ordinance does not exist. He’ll find me.”

Eris only nodded at your words, and then that tricky little fold in the universe was swallowing you whole.

“What the fuck happened.” Azriel screamed as the world reopened. As though he had known you would come here he had appeared first. Flanking his sides were Cassian and Rhysand, angels of swift death clad in leathers and armed to the teeth. All three males surged forward as Eris fell to his knees, your body clutched close to his chest.

“She was intercepted.” Was all he could get out before Azriel was dropping down to scoop your groaning form from his arms. Without thinking Eris reached after you with a snarl. His actions were met with widened eyes and a low noise that reverberated through Azriel’s chest.

“I suggest you remove your hands from my mate before I do it for you.” He growled, pulling you away from the flame haired lordling. Eris stood, dark conviction overtaking his features.

“Excuse me?” He snapped, stepping forward. Cassian moved in, quickly taking you from Azriel who whirled around to face Eris. With quick hands Rhysand began to try and combat the fae bane with what knowledge of it he had.

“You fucking heard me.” Azriel punctuated his words with his hands as he shoved them roughly into Eris’ chest. The Vanserra grunted at the contact and surged forward, anger flashing behind his eyes brightly.

One swift motion of his leg and Azriel had the heir on his back, knee pressed firmly into his sternum. There was a murderous rage so stark on the Spymaster’s features that Eris paled only slightly before he was baring his teeth and clutching the male’s knee.

“I suggest you get the fuck off of me before I ruin this little agreement we have.”

“Agreement be damned. You so much as look at her again and I will fucking kill you.” Azriel hissed. As he stood he pressed Eris firmly into the dirt once more, the lordling releasing a gasp of air as the Shadowsinger stood and rushed back to you.

“We need to get her back to Velaris. My magic can't help her now. The faebane is in her bloodstream.” Rhysand whispered, his hands clutching the wound at your side. The blood which coated them had Azriel visibly pale. With a nod the four of you disappeared, leaving Eris alone in the dark, gasping for air.

Cinnamon and bergamot.

Tree filtered sunlight and the unmistakable kaleidoscope of reds and oranges that were your forest home.

The smells and images corrupted you, sent you falling down a rabbit hole of laughter and lute music light and melodic. He was there, beckoning you forward into the water, despite how cold it was for this late in the summer. His laughter floated on the breeze like a bird’s song, calling to you.

“Its not even that cold!” Eris laughed breathily, his bare chest glistening in the afternoon sun. You dipped a toe in, hissed at the frigid temperature, and scowled.

“You're a liar, Eris Vanserra!” You giggled, crossing your arms over your bare chest. He rolled his eyes playfully and surged forward impossibly fast in the water. Before you could turn tail and run he was dragging you in with him, laughing huskily as you screeched and went under. When you reemerged his head was cocked to the side, a triumphant smile overtaking his features.

“See? Told you! Not cold.”

Without warning tears began to streak down your cheeks and he was paling.

“(y/n)... No, I'm sorry! Don't cry, look here I can use my magic to warm-” Before he could finish you were grinning widely and jumping up to shove his head beneath the surface.

“That was a cheap shot!” He gasped as he came back to the surface, auburn hair sticking to his downturned brow. You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled from your chest as he lifted you in his arms and spun you in the water, pressing a firm kiss to your smiling lips.

In your mind, this day would mark the most perfect one in history.

“Race you to the island?” You keened, nodding your head in the direction of land that took up the middle of the lake. A smirk curled at his lips and he nodded pushing you away from him so he could get a head start. “Cheater!” You called before diving under the surface of the murky water.

Mud clouded water faded slowly and the warmth of the sun faded to night.

“You ready?” Mor whispered, fastening the last button on the back of your dress. Jasmine and lavender overcame your senses, and the lake had melted into the dark blues and blacks of your room at the House of Wind. You smiled brightly at your reflection in the mirror, took in the image of yourself in the most stunning gown you had ever seen.

“I think I am.” You replied, turning to face the bustling blonde. She smoothed the night dark silk of your dress, making sure it was picture perfect.

“God you’re stunning. If Az hadn’t snapped you up I would have.” She jested, chuckling when you blushed beet red.

In moments the room had faded away, replaced by that of the cabin. The dress had been discarded across the couch and the light of the hearth licked up the planes of Ariel's face. He was stretched out beneath you, humming quietly as you rested bare atop him. He had yet to complain about being splayed across the floor, and you certainly weren't complaining about the break. You stretched your right arm out towards the flames, admired the patterns that now took up the skin. Looping his fingers through yours he extended his matching arm.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He whispered, love and admiration flowing down the bond in waves. When you turned to him he was staring at you through dark lashes, eyes bright and hooded.

Flushing you looked back towards the flames, a smile curling the edges of your lips. Freeing his hand from your grasp he gently clasped your chin between his fingers and turned your face once more. “I'm serious.” He spoke, voice gruff as he pulled you down to press a kiss to your lips.

“You have ruined me, Spymaster.” You muttered against his lips, lashes brushing his own.

“How so?” He questioned with a smirk.

“I will never love someone as much as I love you.” It was a whisper, only for him to hear. He kissed you once more, deeply and lasting.

“I should hope not.”

“Should it not have broken by now?”

“In theory, yes.” Madja replied, rubbing a salve into your exposed side. Azriel’s brow furrowed and he leaned forward to watch, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

“What do you mean, in theory?” He questioned, more bite to his words than he meant. When Madja cut him with a glare he raised his hands and leaned back, Looking to Rhysand across the room worriedly.

“Fae bane is tricky. There's no telling how long it was in her system before you got her here. This fever could last hours or days. It takes time.” Madja informed, replacing your bandages with fresh ones before covering your frame with blankets once more. “The best thing you can do for her now is give her space. Let her body heal.”

“Im not leaving her side.”

Madja sighed and looked from Azriel’s convicted stare to that of Rhysand’s impassive gaze.

“I’ll let you explain to him why its a bad idea for him to be here.” She mumbled as she exited the room, bags in hand. Rhysand sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. When he looked to Az the male only shrugged exasperatedly and adjusted himself in his seat by your bed.

“Az-”

“I'm not leaving. She wouldn't leave me.”

“Azriel you're connected. And before you say ‘no shit, dumbass’-” He fixed Azriel with a pointed stare who only shrugged, “On a deep level you are connected. Whether you like to think it or not you're suffering medically on some level because she is. The closer you are to her the harder it's gonna be for her body to fight off the infection.”

Azriel mulled over the words, rested his forehead in his hands and tapped his foot uncharacteristically against the floor below. He glanced at your sleeping form through his fingers and then back at the floor, “Fuck.” He spat before standing quickly and striding towards the door before he changed his mind. “I’ll leave the room but I'm not leaving this house.” He spoke, glancing sidelong at Rhysand who only held up his hands in surrender and nodded.

If you could have picked a moment to live in forever it would have been this one.

The first time you had met Azriel you had known that he would be your forever. A few years after you and Eris had ended your love affair, he had brought you to the uncharted woods. He had explained its danger, instructed you to stay close as the two of you met with the Emissary of the Night Court.

His beauty had struck you as something otherworldly, and it was safe to say that for the entirety of the hour your trio spent in those haunted trees you had not stopped staring at him. There was some sort of wicked beauty in the way his shadows curled around his shoulders and wings, whispering constantly about the unseen figures which lurked in the trees beyond. It was bewitching, really, to gaze upon the sculpted features of his tanned skin. Utterly captivating to hear the whiskey smooth lilt of his voice as he discussed politics and strategy with Eris.

You had thought at one point in time that Eris was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. And while you still thought him beautiful, the beauty Azriel possessed was uncanny. Where Eris was a boyish pretty, not quite yet a man but malleable and soft- Azriel was hardened and forged. He had noticed you staring, had locked the image of your eyes and lips away in his mind to ponder on later. You didn't mind the fact that his shadows were more than likely alerting him to your lingering eyes, you hoped they were.

You were nothing if not bold.

At some point the morning sun gave way to afternoon and Eris ushered you towards home, bidding Azriel goodbye until the next time.

“I hope you’ll be here next time too, (y/n).” Azriel added to his formalities with Eris as the two of you turned to head back to the Autumn court. You glanced over your shoulder, played coy with a dainty smile.

“Of course, Spymaster.”

Azriel thudded down the stairs, keenly aware of just how close Rhysand was behind him. Eyes not entirely seeing he navigated to the living room. Voices chattered quietly and above them all he picked out the lowest and stopped dead in his tracks. Bristling he halted, not flinching as Rhysand ran into his back with the sudden stop.

“What the fuck is he doing here.” Not entirely a question the male pointed his Attention at Mor who swallowed thickly and looked away. Eris stood from his spot on the couch and dropped his hands at his side, no sign of fight left in him at Azriel’s sudden arrival.

“I came to check on her.” Eris spoke, tone firm.

Rolling his head to the side Azriel popped the bones of his neck and sucked in a deep breath before spitting out a harsh, “Shes fine, get the fuck out of my house.”

“I thought this was Rhysand’s house?”

“Oh you little basta-”

“Enough.” Rhysand’s voice was cold as he shoved around Azriel and cut him with a cold gaze. He had raised his hands between the two males as though they were fighting dogs, an action that had Azriel nearly ready to scream. “This is my home and he is my guest. If you two idiots want to fight like children, take it elsewhere. I won't have it here.”

And the look Azriel fixed his brother with was one of utter shock and confusion. When Rhysand offered nothing other than to lower his hands and slump into a chair he looked to Mor, and then to Cassian, and when neither of them could hold his gaze he tightened his jaw and nodded.

‘He is her oldest friend. Think for a moment about what she would want.’

Rhysand’s voice floated into his mind, softer than it had been when he used it aloud moments before. Begrudgingly Azriel sat in a chair across from the couch, eyes never leaving Eris even long after the Autumn son had sat back down and began to talk to Mor once more in hushed tones.

He hated him. Absolutely despised everything about the Vanserra. Of course he appreciated the political advantage he was giving them, respected him as a spy and a future High Lord. But no part of the Illyrian could give up the fact that he had loved you. Some territorial hardwiring in his brain short circuited everytime you brought the red head up- damn near caught fire at the thought of Eris’ hands all over you, of him inside of you. It had been years, and he knew you cared only for him- yet it dug a pit of jealousy in him everytime he thought of it. Part of the shadowsinger hated himself for the anger he felt towards the male, but any pity he had for the emotions he directed at Eris died when he pulled that little stunt in the woods.

Eris had tried to take you from him- had held onto you when you had been in his arms. The memory of the hours past had him roiling with new rage, and his hand was wrapped so tightly around the wooden arm of the chair that it was beginning to splinter.

Azriel only hoped that when you woke up the male was far away from the house, because he wasn't sure he could contain himself if Eris reached for you again.

“Do you remember the day we met?” Azriel asked, watching your hands intertwine. Salt and seawater coated your skin, and the gentle sounds of waves crashing onto the shore lulled your eyes to nearly close. The two of you had spent the day on the beach, and when the sun had started to bid the world goodnight you had stretched out on the still warm sand.

Far behind your heads the lights of Velaris were beginning to blink on, and the sky was becoming a myriad of purples and oranges as the sun sank lower and lower.

“Of course I do. You didnt speak to me.”

Azriel huffed a sigh and propped his head on his hand, dragging the other down the length of your side.

“It was a business meeting. Of course I didn't speak to you.”

“Are you saying that because I’m a woman?” You smirked, breathing a laugh when he rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation before falling onto his back.

“Thats not what I meant, and you know it.”

He sat up, moving so he was hovering over you and leaned forward, relaxing his weight onto his elbows, “I know. I just like giving you a hard time.” you breathed.

“Oh, I know.”

“What does that mean?” Your brow raised and he chuckled despite himself. Reaching forward he pinched your cheek gently and shrugged. If you could do it any form of justice you would paint the image of him above you right now. The way his hair flopped messily into his eyes and the way the pinks and oranges of the setting sun haloed him so perfectly. The colors shone like stained glass through the membranes of his wings and without fully thinking about it you reached up and ran a gentle finger across their expanse. He shuddered beneath the touch and watched your eyes track the motion.

“You're beautiful.” You whispered.

“And you are the most stunning thing I have ever seen.” He leaned impossibly close, the ghost of his breath tickling the shell of your ear, “I need you to wake up for me.”

“What do you mean?” Your smile persisted despite your confusion as he sat back and stared into your eyes.

“I need you to wake up.”

Darkness had swallowed the room whole.

At some point Mor had gotten up to light the faelights which now cast an eerie glow on the room. Rhysand had come and gone, replaced now by Cassian who was arguing with Eris over some play they had seen half a century ago.

“Im telling you the main chick died.” Cassian huffed, throwing his hands in the air for added dramatics.

“No she fainted, it was for dramatic affect!” Eris retorted, raising his brows. Azriel sighed and leaned his head against the back of the chair. If it weren't for you in the room upstairs he would have slipped out of this house and into the city hours before. After the first hour of the males’ conversation he had decided undergoing torture at the hands of the Bone Carver would have been better than sitting in this room waiting.

“She didn't die or faint, she was poisoned by the King and survived.” Azriel bit out, “Now can the two of you shut the hell up?”

Eris cocked his head at the winged male, “We’re just trying to have a bit of fun. Could you lighten up?” And the whistle Cassian blew out was nothing short of a ‘oh fuck here we go’.

“Excuse me?” Azriel questioned. He was still lounging in his chair, legs sprawled and head resting in his hand as he replied. Eris was the opposite, poised to strike. The red headed fae’s shoulders were tight, his eyes lit with a challenge he was dying to pursue.

“I said. Lighten. Up.” He punctuated his words firmly, and stood just as Azriel did. Mor stifled a groan and retreated further into her corner of the couch, content to watch this play out rather than shove herself between the two.

What Eris lacked in physical strength against Azriel, he made up for in swiftness. This much was made clear when the shadowsinger surged forward and narrowly missed grasping the lordling's throat. He was blinded by rage, a downfall that made it easier for Eris to grasp his shoulders and hold him at arms length as the illyrian slammed him into the nearest wall.

“I can't stand you, prick.” Azriel snarled, shoving his elbow into his opponent's throat. Eris was putting up a good fight, causing the spymaster to sweat as he grappled against his hold. “You’re arrogant and too touchy with females you have no right to.”

And despite himself a smirk curved the edge of Eris’ lips, “Funnily enough, (y/n) never complained about how touchy I can be.”

And even the shadows in the corners of the room fell silent as Azriel was overcome with bitter rage. All Azriel could hear was ringing as he wrapped his hands around the pale male’s throat and began to squeeze. Eris coughed violently, swinging his free arm around to plant his fist firmly into Azriel’s neck. The winged male faltered, just enough for Eris to send them both tumbling to the ground.

Glass splintered on the hardwood as someone's leg swept an end table into the wall. As the two rolled around on the floor, furniture moved and curtains were ripped from the walls. The metallic tang of blood was beginning to overpower the lavender candles Mor had lit, and Rhysand’s brand new rug was being torn to shreds while the two roiled.

“Maybe we should stop them.” Mor spoke, arms crossed over her chest. Cassian stood similarly beside her, safe in the threshold of the slowly deteriorating room.

The General weighed his options, winced at a particularly nasty blow landed by Eris, and then shook his head. “Nah. Needs to be done. Once they get this out of their systems we should be good.”

Mor grimaced as Eris cracked Azriel’s head against the floor, “I fear Rhys will have to move once this is over.”

“I feel sorry for (y/n) if this is what she has to see every time you're on top.” Eris grit out from beneath Azriel who had his hands wrapped firmly around his throat.

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.” Azriel punctuated every word with a crack of Eris’ head against the hardwood. The male groaned, heaving against the spymaster’s hands. In the threshold Cassian and Mor watched with twin looks of concern and interest.

With no warning at all Eris released a great cry and shoved his competitor to the ground. Each male took heaving breaths. Laying on their backs, wincing and wheezing they stared at the ceiling.

“When you two assholes get your shit together. See me outside.” Rhysand suddenly spoke. Mor and Cassian froze, both slowly turning their backs to face the High Lord of Night who had suddenly appeared in the entryway. His face was a mask of cool anger, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

Both Eris and Azriel cleared their throats, stood, and followed Rhysand out of the house. Feathers, torn from throw pillows, floated gingerly to the ground and Mor heaved a great sigh.

“We’re cleaning this up aren't we?”

“Oh yeah.” Cassian huffed.

“Have you lost your FUCKING minds?!” Rhysand seethed, the end of his question dying off as a couple strolled down the street opposite the trio. He smiled tightly at them and offered a wave. Once they were safely out of earshot the High Lord turned to the battered males before him.

“(y/n) is upstairs, fighting for her life. What if she had woken up to you assholes destroying my house?” His brows were raised, arms crossed over his chest. Azriel thought briefly that he looked like a father scolding his insolent children.

“He started it.” Eris seethed, still bristling with anger.

“The fuck I did.”

“I dont care who started it. I'm finishing it. Get your shit together. If you care about her, act like it.” And then he was gone, shoving between the two to head towards the house. On his way he reared back and slapped both of them across the back of the head. The males released twin groans and watched as he disappeared into the ruble that had once been his entry way.

Sunlight, warm and new cast soft shadows across the room. Your bedroom was glowing with morning light, and you watched as the colors of your stained glass lamp danced on your sheets.

Raising a hand you let the rainbow of hues decorate your skin. The ache in your side was persistent, though not as painful as it had been in the Autumn Court. There was a dull throbbing in your ear, and you were relieved to find it whole when you raised a hand to inspect it.

“You know, you could have just killed her.”

You drug your gaze away from the kaleidoscope at your bedside, and locked eyes with Azriel. He was sitting at the foot of your shared bed, shoulders hunched and face battered.

“I did.” You replied, voice gruff from misuse. The male before you smirked and nodded, turning his gaze away from you.

“Eris had to burn her body so her father wouldn’t question why she was flayed open like a prize fish.”

You couldn't help the prideful smile that curled your lips. You bit back the comment you wanted to let free, about how the bitch deserved it. Clearing your throat you gingerly kicked his side with your blanketed foot.

“What happened to your face?”

“Eris.”

“What?” You sat up, wincing at the soreness that combated Madja’s healing. Azriel turned quickly, reached out for you but was swiftly dismissed with a wave of your hand. “I'm fine.”

“Lay back down.” Azriel commanded softly, moving around the bed to stand at your side and gently shove you back into the pillows. To ease the worry in his eyes, you complied.

“Eris is here?” You questioned him again, raising a brow when his jaw tightened and he looked away.

“Yes.”

“I’d like to see him…- to thank him.”

Ariel's eyes widened and he blanked, “thank him?”

“Well, yes. He saved my life.”

Azriel scoffed and moved towards the window, turning his back to you. “Eris is the entire reason you were in that situation to begin with.”

You sat up once more, but began to stand this time. Muscles burned with the stretch but worked all the same, and it took you no time to be out of the bed and tugging on shoes. “I am the reason I was in that situation, Azriel. He is the reason I made it home.” You pulled on his shoulder, forced him to look at you. Cupping his face you brought it down to your level, ignoring the wince he let out when you gripped a particularly sore bruise. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Then where is he?”

“Downstairs.”

You nodded, pressed a firm kiss to the corner of his bruised lips, and turned tail for the door. The general functions of your body were kicking back on as the fae bane evaporated from it completely. You were moving quicker, yet still not quick enough to evade your mate's grasp as he reached for your retreating elbow.

“Yes?” You quipped, hand hovering above the door handle.

“You’re going to be really pissed at me when you go downstairs.”

“You hit him first didn't you?”

“He deserved it.”

Eris was sitting in the rubble that had once been the living room, leaning heavily on his elbows as he hunched over on the couch. You took in the room with wide eyes- the apologetic look in Azriel’s eyes and the guilt on Eris’ own features was enough background information.

“Well you two sure know how to spend your free time.” You muttered.

“I'm glad you're alright.” Was all Eris said as he stood, quickly enveloping you in a hug. Azriel made a noise of quiet discomfort from behind you that had Eris pulling away with a worried glance over your shoulder.

Ignoring the brooding male behind you entirely, you focused your attention on Eris. “You saved my life.”

“I wouldn't say that.” He muttered, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

“Had you not come to find me, Lucy would have overpowered me in minutes.” You retorted, rubbing a hand over your side. “You saved my life.”

The lordling’s lips thinned into a tight line and he nodded curtly. He had looked better, that much was certain. Azriel had busted the male’s lip, and left him with two mighty large black eyes that were beginning to fade as he healed. Judging from the way his right shoulder was sitting it was fair to assume your mate had dislocated it… at least once.

You turned to your mate then, took in his injuries. Eris had held his own. Azriel, too, was sporting a black eye and busted lip. It took everything in you to suppress asking if they were fucking or fighting on the living room floor.

“Is anyone going to tell me why the living room looks like we hosted wild cats for a week?”

The two males shared a glance over the top of your head, and it was Eris who sighed and loosened his posture.

“We got into a disagreement,”

“A disagreement ruined the rug I just bought Rhys?”

Eris flopped back into the tattered remains of the couch and groaned at the impact. Moving around you, Azriel sat in the only chair that had survived their brawl. You watched them with your arms crossed over your chest, brows pulled tight, and patience quickly thinning. You imprinted this moment in your mind, would use it as a reminder to wait for kids in the future.

“Why did you argue?”

A shared look again.

“So it was over me?”

Eris huffed a sigh and Azriel shifted uncomfortable in his seat.

“I said things that were out of line.” Eris spoke through his fingers. His chin was perched in his palms, hair mused from how violently he had been running his hands through it.

“And I reacted insolently.” Azriel added, staring up at you.

Eris looked to your mate, stared at him before dropping his eyes and groaning. “No. You reacted to a male being possessive over your mate. It was completely warranted.”

Your eyes were wide at the admission, and you stared at him slack jawed. “What did you say to him, Eris?”

“A plethora of things that no longer matters.”

You couldn't help but sigh, kneeling to the floor you cupped Eris’ face in your hands. His gaze softened and he brought a hand up to touch your own. Azriel clutched his hands together, his foot drumming incessantly against the floor.

“Eris, I love you.” Azriel made a noise of distaste that you silenced with a stare, “But not in the way I love Azriel. And I need you to understand that the things I told you in your home were not a threat, but a promise.”

The red-haired lordling paled and you cocked your head, “You are my longest friend, and my closest confidant, but he is my mate and I choose Him. I will continue to choose him until the day I die.” A tear slid down your cheek, and he faught the urge to brush it aside.

“Please. I am begging do not give me a reason to never speak to you again.” And when you finished speaking he nodded breaking your hold to stand and brush off his pants.

“My deepest apologies, once more.” He nodded this to Azriel, and stared at you kneeling form a moment longer before leaving the river home. You let the silence of the room wash over you, your hands now unoccupied resting on your lap.

Azriel began to speak, but when you turned to him crying he only quieted and moved to sit on the floor beside you. You allowed him to pull you into his lap, to hold you close as you cried silently.

“Im so sorry.” Azriel whispered into your hair, gently rubbing your back. “This is my fault.”

“No-” You sniffled, reaching up to grasp his still bruised cheeks. “No. I should have set that boundary long ago. I’ve known how he has felt for years, and yet I hoped it would fade.” You chuckled then, a mournful sound. “How selfish of me to assume.”

Azriel only held you in silence, perched in the rubble of the living room.

You knew that the boundary you had set was not unfair. Knew that in a million other lifetimes you would still choose Azriel, but Eris’ lingering absence still managed to tear a gaping hole in your heart.

“Why are you here?”

Azriel was cloaked in darkness, the hood concealing his features lilted with shadows that whispered and creeped. Eris stared at him, bow lowered from where he had nearly sent the arrow home into the spymaster’s chest. His horse snuffed impatiently, stamping the ground anxiously as those shadows crawled along the ground.

Azriel was being reckless, breaking several laws to be on the edges of the Autumn court’s forest border. Reaching upward he dropped the hood, stared at the mounted lordling before him and sighed.

“We need to talk.”

“I dont think we do.” Eris huffed, slinging the bow across his back and urging his horse back into a walk along the perimeter of his lands. Azriel trailed closely, grabbing the reins and forcing the steed to stop.

“Please.” His tone was so pleading that Eris relaxed in the saddle. Still staring at the forest beyond he uttered a harsh ‘speak.’

And speak, he did.

No amount of warning could have prepared you for the scene in front of you. Standing in the threshold of a balcony at the House of Wind was a windblown (slightly petrified) Eris, and a coolly composed Azriel.

“Why are you here.” It was directed to Eris.

As he stepped forward you clutched the books you held against your chest and shot him a warning glance. He stopped in his tracks, looked back at Azriel who only nodded and encouraged him to continue.

“I just came to say that Azriel and I spoke.” He swallowed thickly, “And I want you to know I am sorry. And that I am going to respect both you and your mate, if you’ll have me.”

You stared at him, and then looked back at Azriel.

“And I'm going to stop picking apart everything he does involving you.”

You watched between them, focused on their words. Nodding slowly you moved away from them, headed towards the balcony doors opposite where they stood. You had a table out there, cleaned and ready to read at.

“Are you going to join me, or not?”

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