#I saw one and I was like oh shit Feyre and Azriel???

[separatist-apologist]

I think you should hate read fourth wing , I genuinely feel that it was over hyped just a little on booktok and people just kinda of tan with it

I'm pretty sure it's Junes bookish box pick and I forgot to skip, so I'll be getting it (in August LOL they're so slow), and I'll read it then. I admit, I have been avoiding it because the last time I saw a book this hyped it was From Blood And Ash and look at how that turned out.

#also the art is just nezriel #or feyzriel depending on the artist #I saw one and I was like oh shit Feyre and Azriel??? #but NO it was violet and whatever his name is

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: baby blanket

Azriel had never had a baby blanket. 

When you found this out, it made you so sad you started crying (you were on your period which didn’t help the emotions). 

You were talking with Feyre and Cassian. Feyre mentioned how she found Rhysands baby blanket in their closet and couldn’t get over how cute it was. 

“It has bats! It was so cute.” 

“Oh yeah, Rhys’ mom made me one with swords on it.” Cassian sipped his beer. 

“And Az?” You asked. 

“Az what?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

“What was on Az’s?” You asked, tilting your head. 

“Huh.” Cassian thought. “I don't think he ever got one.” 

“What? Why?” Your heart was shattering for your husband and mate. 

“When he joined the family, he was in his preteens. A little old for a baby blanket. I joined when I was a bit younger so I think that’s why I got one.” He titled his head as he thought. “He might’ve had one when he was with his blood relatives, but I doubt they let him have any comfort.” He grimaced. 

You teared up. “Rhys’ mom never made one for him?”

“No, just because he was a bit older.” Cassian shrugged. 

You frowned, “I wouldn’t think of it either if I were her I just…” Your lip wobbled. “He deserves it.”

“Aw shit.” Cassian got up and went to your other side. “I forgot you were on your cycle.” 

“Shut up.” You cried, swatting his arm. Which he wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. 

“He’s okay, sweetheart. He’s a big boy.” He kissed your temple. 

“Everybody deserves a baby blanket. I still have mine.” You bit your lip and sniffed. “I need to make Az one. He deserves it!” 

Feyre touched your shoulder. “I think Rhys still has fabric his mother owned.”

“Can you ask? I wanna make it and include the woman that took him in.” You frowned, “and find some way to include his mother.” 

“Of course.” Feyre said. She also kissed your temple. 

Feyre later asked Rhys, who absolutely let you have some fabric. That way the blanket was from both you and Rhys’ mom. You reached out to Azriel’s mother, who helped you learn to sew. You spent hours with her. You loved doing this so you could give Azriel something meaningful, then it was better since his mother helped you learn. 

You did a few practice runs with random squares of fabric that weren't the special kind. Just to make sure you didn’t fuck up the actual project. 

You picked out a soft fabric he loves because it doesn’t cause sensory issues. You chose if in his siphon blue with stars on it. 

When he came home after you had finished it, he was concerned because you looked like you were up to something. 

It didn’t help that you had made his favorite foods plus dessert (since you wouldn’t let him eat you for dessert with your cycle going on, which he doesn’t care either way for the record). 

Then after dinner, you made him sit on the couch and close his eyes for a surprise. “And I forbid your shadows being sent out! So don't send them!” You yelled as you ran up the stairs to grab the surprise.

“Yes, love.” As if they’d listen to him over you in this case. Plus, he’s never seen you so excited. So no, he wasn’t going to ruin it.  

He heard your giggling as you walked down the steps and couldn’t help his own tiny chuckle. He heard the crinkling of a bag as well. 

“Okay, open your eyes baby.” You said. He opened his eyes to see his love smiling wide and her eyes twinkling. 

She handed it to him, he could feel that it was hefty. He took the tissue paper out and threw it at you, which you giggled at as it hit you. 

Then he saw the most beautiful blanket there. He pulled it out. It was a deep, rich navy blue. Sparkling with the night sky. 

“Did you make this?” He whispered, his heart was already filled because his love gave him something. 

You nodded and that caused his heart to overflow. 

“I love it but what’d I do to deserve it?”

“Just be you.” You said. Then he saw the tears start in your eyes. “Gods, this stupid cycle. The amount of times I cried making it.” You wiped your face. 

“Cassian told me you’d never had a baby blanket. And everybody deserves that bit of comfort. I’m sorry if this seems silly I just-“ Your lip wobbled. “I wanted you to have it.” 

“Oh baby.” Azriel cooed. Which was weird, because he was one of the most feared warriors cooing over his period-ridden wife. “C’mere.” He set the blanket down, and pulled you into his lap. Your thick thighs cradling his muscular ones. 

You fit perfectly in his lap. He then grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around you both. For a baby blanket, it was quite large. You worked so hard. He loved it so fucking much. 

“I’m sorry this is your gift and I can’t stop crying.” You let out a wet laugh. “Gods, the amount of times your mother teased me for crying.” You sniffed. 

“My mother?” He froze. 

“I went and visited her a lot these past few months. She taught me how to sew. We had lots of tea and talked about you.” You teased. “I loved seeing her so much.” You whispered. 

His heart was bursting. You spent time with his mother, his mother who you loved to see.

“Baby, this is beautiful. You’re so talented.” He kissed your forehead. “I can’t believe you made me a baby blanket. Thank you.”

He never even thought that he’d want one. Now, the only way anybody would get it out of his hands would be if he were dead. 

“Where did you find this fabric?” He asked. It was beautiful. As if the night sky itself was woven into it. And so soft on his skin. 

“Rhys’ mother.” You sniffed again. 

He snapped his head to you, confused. You smiled. “I asked Rhys if there was any fabric left from her. Then I actually embroidered your mothers signature in the corner, with her guidance. So,” You shrugged. “It’s from all three of us.” 

“The three most important women in my life.” He murmured. 

He brought you into a kiss that told a thousand words. “Thank you.” His voice broke off. “I can’t even begin to think of how to repay this.”

“That’s the thing Az. You don't have to. I’m your wife, I am honored to give you something so special.” You whispered, clutching his face. 

“You didn’t just give it. You made it. You make me so happy, my love.” He brought you in for another kiss. 

After that night, you kept catching him snuggling the blanket. He wouldn’t travel with it, it was his prized possession. It never left your house. All your family knew about it was that you made him a blanket. 

Then, for away missions. You made him a travel size one. 

Then for his birthday. A tinier matching one. Only with your signature in the corner opposite his mothers. 

And, an embroidered baby footprint.

#acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x reader fluff

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Two

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: None :)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“The sun’s barely gone down!” Cassian grumbled, following behind Helion, Rhysand, and Feyre as they walked the cobblestone streets of the Day Court. Every block of the small city contained at least two local bookstores, one cafe that also sold books, one flower shop that also sold books, and/or a small glass box filled with - as anyone could have guessed - more books to be given away for free. 

Helion chuckled, “You’re not in the Night Court any more. My people are early to bed, early to rise. Unless of course you spend a night with me.” He winked at Cassian, who had the sense to blush. Indeed the Night Court members had been shocked when the party cleared out not even two hours after the sun had slipped beneath the ground. 

Aside from the small scale bookstores which housed the most popular and recently published novels, every sector of the Day Court also had between one to three athenaeum’s - elaborate buildings of ivory stone laced with filigree and windows that lit up like the glowing eyes of an ancient beast. They were the pride and joy of all Day Court members. The windows flickered and shone with the magic used to protect the volumes from the sun. Even as the neighborhood lights slowly winked out, Azriel could track the diligent minds scouring the brightly lit shelves. There was a loving madness in their hunched backs, craned necks, and squinting eyes. 

As their troupe reached The Alcove, one of the smaller and cozier athenaeum’s, Azriel couldn’t help but imagine you in a similar display of passionate madness, when you forgot about the world around you and could actually relax.

The Alcove specialized in housing diaries and novels of everyday comforts - quiet, unassuming stories that could steal your heart as swiftly as the grandest tales of war and romance, but with much more discretion. Here, the knowledge pressed between pages with ink was full of warmth and subtlety. The others in your cohort had scorned you for your choice in The Alcove. Why would anyone choose such a dull place to live and work? Why not be surrounded by books on war tactics or history or religion or biology? Someplace useful and worthy of a Librarian’s gifts. But The Alcove had offered you something you’d missed since your mother’s death - a sense of home. 

You sat by the bay windows overlooking the darkened street below, breathing in the crisp and cool air that snuck in through the glass. On the other side of your apartment, a similar window overlooked The Alcove’s interior. Hundreds of mahogany shelves lined the high walls of the octagonal building with its signature domed roof. Grand staircases of gold twisted their way up from the ground, connecting to walkways that gave easier access to the volumes housed higher up the walls. 

It was a blessing in disguise that you’d chosen to sit on this side of your apartment. Otherwise you would have never seen the Shadowsinger watching you with careful consideration, his eyes faintly glowing like the eyes of a cat. He raised one gloved hand up at you in a wave, a solitary gesture as the rest of his companions and Helion walked towards the stairs that led up to your apartment entrance. 

He saw your mouth open in a shocked oh and couldn’t help the faintest smile gracing his lips as you disappeared from view.

“Oh shit.” You sprang up from your seat, eyes madly racing over the contents of your apartment. You were in the middle of a research project on magical signatures and your living space reflected the madness in your mind. Books lay open on the floor, on the desk, on the coffee table surrounded by carefully documented notes and half-scribbled ideas in equal measure. You wouldn’t be able to clean it up in time and, quite frankly, you had no interest in disrupting the chaotic organization. Did you really care about impressing the Night Court and Helion? 

The terrifying answer was, yes.

The dining room. 

It rarely saw use since you were disinclined to receive guests, and had more recently been repurposed to house stacks of romance novels… best not to let anyone see those… 

In the five minutes it took for Helion and the members of the Inner Circle to climb up the dozen flights of stairs, and knock on your door, you’d successfully managed to hide all the smutty romance books in your bedroom, throw a table cloth and candle on top of the dining table, put away the dried dishes that had been displaced on the kitchen countertops, and set a kettle on the stove. Was there anything more that could be done? 

Helion smiled brightly when you made your appearance, keeping the door slightly ajar to keep the worst of the living room out of sight. Perhaps this would be a short visit and they wouldn’t even ask to come inside.

“Y/n!” Helion said with a grin, “I present to you the Inner Circle of the Night Court.” He gestured with a grand flourish to some of the most beautiful fae you’d ever had the honor of witnessing.

“Some of us at least.” The High Lord’s voice was liquid honey and filled with enough charisma to seduce a nun.

“The most important ones.” The Lord of Bloodshed said with a boyish grin. The faint scar on his cheek pulled back with his smile.

“I’ll let Nesta know you said that.” The High Lady had swapped out her dress for a more simple pair of black slacks and a billowing shirt that cinched in at the waist, flowing over her body like smoke on water. 

“Wait, no. Feyre, I was only joking. Feyre-” 

She laughed, tipping her head back while her husband and mate looked on with a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t expected to see. It wasn’t the love that shocked you so much as the casualness of it. High Lords and Lady’s - from the limited experience you had reading about them in books - were either unreadable or such outrageous flirts they looked ready to jump into the bones of anything that could stand upright or lay down for long enough. Both methods were appropriate to hide their true feelings, but Rhysand and Feyre seemed to take another approach entirely. 

Helion coughed when you made no move to introduce yourself, still shell-shocked at the caliber of guests currently at your door, “And to the Inner Circle of the Night Court, I present Y/n Y/l/n. My dear friend and one of the most talented researchers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you.” Feyre said, moving forward on instinct to embrace you. She stopped immediately when she saw you flinch back, but recovered quickly, smiling brightly, “My name is Feyre, and this is my mate Rhysand,” The High Lord tipped an imaginary hat, “And his brothers, Cassian and Azriel.” 

“It’s an honor to meet you.” You said politely.

“The honor is all ours.” Rhysand said. He held Feyre closer to his side, one hand ghosting close to her stomach in memory of the child that had grown there not even two years ago. “Helion told us everything you did. Our daughter is alive and well thanks to you, as is my mate.” 

You blinked in surprise. You didn’t know Helion had told them about that. 

“Oh um, it was a joint effort. My High Lord is too kind.” You said with a respectful dip of your head and all at once your manners flooded into your brain again, “Please, come in.” 

You sheepishly opened the door further, allowing the two High Lords and High Lady to grace your apartment. The Illyrians crossed the threshold last. Muscular, leathery wings rippled with power and prestige and it was incredible they managed to stay upright, let alone keep them from dragging on the floor. 

You made a mental note to revisit some old anatomy texts on winged fae. 

“I um,” You hurried to the kitchen, hearing the kettle start to screech, “I apologize. I wasn’t prepared for guests.” The screaming stopped and you remembered that you didn’t have any matching tea sets. 

You reached into the cupboards, face blushing at the assortment of novelty mugs you’d acquired over the years. Hardly fit for a children’s tea party let alone some of the most powerful fae to have ever existed. 

“There will be no apologies from you, tonight, my dear.�� Helion said with a charming smile, “Not after we’ve barged into your home uninvited and taken over your dining table.”

From over the island you saw that Helion had already settled down at the table, the others following suit. Everyone except for the Shadowsinger. 

He lingered by the kitchen archway, keeping a respectful distance as you poured boiling water into the teapot over a mixture of chrysanthemum and rosehip. 

“Would you like any help?” He gestured to the tray now loaded with the teapot, cups, and a platter of biscuits that shook in your hands. 

“Oh,” You stared at his outstretched hand, soft black leather molded over graceful fingers. “No, that’s alright. I can do it. But thank you for offering.” You stood face to face with him, silently begging him with your eyes to move to the table with the others so you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of touching him.

His hand quickly dropped to his side, then slid behind his back. You caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masked it. 

“There are some cookies in the living room!” You said a little too loudly, “On top of the coffee table. If-if you wouldn’t mind bringing those-” The Shadowsinger was already gone on his mission and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

There were more books on the floor than swords on a battlefield. Azriel stepped over them gently, careful not to disturb the precarious arrangement. Books on anatomy, microbiology, human medicine, and magical theory flared outward, tracing the path of Y/n’s mind. Azriel walked it with wonder at the brilliance hidden within the midnight thoughts that had been spilled on paper, before being organized later on with a loving hand. Because that’s what this all spelled out to him - some chaotic, maddening love. He was almost jealous not to be on the receiving end of it… almost.

He saw the platter on the table, but ignored it for the pile of books by the windowsill. These ones were different from the rest. Older and more worn. The bindings were cracked and flexible after being read hundreds of times. He could even trace the faint outlines of your fingers on the leather bindings where natural oils had eaten away at the dye. 

He read over the titles and committed them to memory for no other reason than the fact that he liked things that had been well loved. 

“I made a mistake don’t-” 

Azriel straightened up, color washing over his cheeks as he turned to face you in a sea of paper and leather. 

Without thinking, he’d fallen into old habits of poking through people’s belongings. There was a reason Rhysand had made him Spymaster of the Night Court after all. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Did you eat a cookie?” You blurted out in a panic. 

“No, no I didn’t.” 

Your shoulders dropped in relief, one hand brushing back your hair. Azriel caught sight of your ink stained fingertips, and the faint mark they left on your temple. 

“Oh thank the Mother.” You muttered under your breath, stealing a glance over your shoulder to the dining room where Helion was playing host in your stead and doing a far better job than you would have been capable of.

“Are they poisoned?” Azriel asked, but the joke fell flat upon seeing the horror in your face.

“No! No, that's not why-I should explain myself better. I would never dare try and poison you. Or anyone for that matter!” You scrunched your eyes shut, face burning brighter than the sun at noon.

I’m a fool. I’m making a fool of myself. He’s going to think I’m an absolute idiot. And right after Helion called me a gifted researcher. What a fucking lie.

Azriel, the blessing in disguise that he was, gave you a moment to collect yourself, pretending to find more interest in a volume on snake venom that was laid open on the ottoman. 

“A friend baked those for me.” You finally said. 

Azriel nodded, a faint smile gracing his face and it caught you off guard. He was beautiful, there was no doubting it so long as you had eyes. What had surprised you was the faint slivers of warmth behind the facade of the cold, brooding Shadowsinger. It was… surprisingly comforting to be standing in a room with him, just the two of you. It was certainly better than the party you’d unceremoniously winnowed out of earlier that day.

“I would never hold it against you if you wanted to save those for yourself.”

Your lips twisted in disgust, “Oh gods no, Cherp is a terrible cook.”

“Cherp?”

“He’s another Librarian I know.” Probably the closest thing to a friend I have. But you weren’t about to tell the Shadowsinger that. “He specializes in chemistry and food history.”

“He’s a food historian?”

“Yes.”

“And yet he’s a terrible cook?” The Shadowsinger tilted his head to the side. 

The corner of your mouth tipped up, “The worst.”

“How is that possible?”

You gave it a thought, eyes darting around the walls like the answer was hidden behind paint, “Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, um,” You weren’t sure what to call him.

“Azriel. Call me, Azriel.”

“Azriel.” You said, testing out the shape of his name. You liked it.

“Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, Azriel?”

He cocked his head to the side, “I do not.”

“Thousands, Azriel. Thousands. If I told you to bake a cake with an egg, would you know I meant a chicken egg?” This time you didn’t wait for an answer, “Because you’d be surprised how quickly facts we consider ‘common knowledge’ disappear. Will people know we meant chicken eggs 1 million years from now? Perhaps not! All this to say that when Cherp follows recipes, he usually doesn’t have the knowledge to make it correctly and they turn out bland at best, inedible and poisonous at worst.” 

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, prompting you to explain further, “He once spent ten years researching the evolution of average spoon sizes because so many of his recipes were measured in spoonfuls.”

Azriel smirked, “Is this what you academics get yourselves so worried about?”

You couldn’t tell if he was ridiculing you or not, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes said he wasn’t. “Well we...among other things, yes, I suppose that is something we concern ourselves with…” 

“Y/n!” Helion called from the other room, “Stop romancing the Shadowsinger and join us at the table. It’s a futile effort. I’ve been trying for centuries.” 

Your face turned a brighter shade of red as you watched Azriel pick his way through the empty spots on the floor. You pressed yourself against the wall to let him pass, a fact that didn’t escape his notice. And when he took a seat at the table, you ignored the unoccupied seat next to him, preferring to stand behind the island like a woodland creature ready to dive into their den at a moment’s notice. 

His lips flattened. He’d hoped to make you more comfortable around him after the disastrous events at the party, going so far as to hide the shadows that were clamoring for release. He should’ve known better than to assume one conversation about the historical accuracy of egg recipes would make that discomfort go away.  

From your island you tossed pleasantries back and forth like it was a game. But you couldn’t help the stiffness in your posture, the hesitation in your voice when they asked you about your life.

“I’m a Librarian.” You’d first answered, as if it were all that needed to be said. But they pressed onwards, tried to make you laugh. Cassian, especially, liked to poke fun, and despite your best efforts, you laughed. 

“All these libraries would make Nesta go feral. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”

“What kind of books does she like to read?” You asked, refilling the kettle as the cloudy sky outside darkened into a rich purple-black.

Cassian coughed, face turning red, “Romance.” He answered simply.

“Smutty romance.” The High Lord said, punching Cassian in the arm. His face turned redder.

“Lucky you,” Helion said with a wink that had Feyre bursting out into laughter. It was no secret that Helion had added Nesta onto his list of fae he’d one day like to have in his bed.

“There is an athenaeum that specializes in romance, and there’s no shortage of those sorts of novels… if you’re interested.” You said, hiding your face behind a sip of tea. 

“And how would you know about that?” Feyre asked teasingly. 

“I… am a Librarian. I know-I know things.” You sputtered unconvincingly. “I went once. Purely for research purposes.” 

Azriel gave her a look, a look that said he somehow knew of the eight raunchy books that graced your bedside table and had been well-read indeed.

As the conversation evolved to less embarrassing topics, you were struck by the fact that you were actually enjoying yourself. It was a far cry from the parties that you’d previously been invited to. There was an ease to the Inner Circle. A familial love that flowed off them as easy as water off a whetstone. It was something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

Azriel noticed when you fell silent, your mind carried away to more sobering thoughts than Cassian’s most recent travels to the Human Lands. Feyre noticed as well and made her surprise at the time look natural and unscripted.

“Day Court members are early to bed and early to rise aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve taken up so much of your time.” She said, gently pulling Rhysand up with her as she stood. 

“No, not at all. Thank you for coming. I-I hope your daughter is doing well.” Was that an appropriate thing to say? Perhaps it was too threatening to comment on the wellbeing of a High Lord and High Lady’s child. But Feyre didn’t find any fault with that, a glassy look sliding over her eyes as Mor let Feyre into her mind so she could look at little Velaria dozing away in her aunt’s arms back home.

“She’s getting to be more and more of a handful everyday.”

“I wonder where she gets that from?” Cassian chimed in, throwing Rhysand a look as they collected their coats and slowly made their way over to the front door.

Rhysand threw his hand to his chest in indignation, “I was practically an angel.” 

Cassian snorted, “More like the devil.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes, shuffling the pair out the door into the still night. 

Azriel once again lingered behind, the last to leave behind Helion. He stepped out into the night-chilled air, the edges of him disappearing like the darkness had come to reclaim him. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/n, the Librarian.” He said, dipping into a shallow bow.

“It was lovely to meet you, Azriel…the Shadowsinger.” 

He smiled shyly, then froze, the smile slipping off his face into a look of shock. You glanced over your shoulder, missing the explosion of shadows that spilled out from him. 

You leapt back upon feeling their cool touch wrapping around you. There was a curiosity to the way they wound themselves through your hair and got tangled up in the folds of your dress. But thankfully, they carried no memories with them. No feelings but a faint relief and comfort that washed over you and gave you back your breath. For the first time in years you were experiencing a touch that you could handle. A touch that was stillness and peace.

“Is everything alright?” You finally looked back at Azriel, his eyes blown open and panicked.

He was not a man of many words. Never had been, never would be. But he wished he could speak everything on his mind. 

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re the one I’ve been waiting over 500 hundred years for. 

But when he saw the concern in your eyes, the gentle tilt of your head that exposed the curve of your neck, he knew it wasn’t the time.

“I-I have to go.” 

This time it was his turn to disappear. He swallowed his words, forced down the bond that now burned in his chest with the light of a thousand suns, and fled past the shocked faces of his family members before shooting off into the night sky.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Does this batboy deserve a nerdy mate to tease and have fun with? Yes. I will take no criticism (just kidding if you have thoughts about how my writing is, let me know, just be kind and respectful about it).

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 2@auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalaluch @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x mate reader #inner circle #azriel acotar #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

[sjmgirlie]

“I see so much potential for Lucien and Elain”

Where?

There has not been a single scene in 2 novels and 1 novella since we found out they were mates that alludes to any potential at all?

They haven’t even had one conversation where Feyre isn’t there carrying it? He lives on the other side of Prythian? Can't stand to be around her? She wants to leave the room each time he's there? Specifically sits away from him? Like where is the potential other than some sort of imagery (which I'll get to)? It ain't there.

“I can’t imagine a single conversation happening between Elain and Azriel”

Really?

They had one the first day they met. Talking about flying.

Not to mention on Solstice they stayed up to talk to each other when everyone else went to bed.

How do we know they didn’t talk when they were in the garden together?

“Azriel just stifles Elain. She’s just a damsel in distress”

You sure?

He literally gave her the knife he had literally never let anyone touch in 500 years to protect herself? Cassian didn’t want Nesta finding the troves either? Are we trying to say that a man who wants to protect a women is suddenly.. unattractive? Like idk about you, but I would love for a bat boy to save me lol. Or tell me not to do something for my safety. But okay.

“It’s just lust”

Let’s not even go there because a male willing to participate in a blood duel and renouncing his own religion is not just trying to have sex

“Lucien is the son of Helion and Elain needs sun!”

Ya?

Well Lucien has never had sun imagery. It’s fire from his Autumn Court heritage and in Hybern he released himself with SPELLS. Feyre was actually the person to cast out a bright light to break the wards, and we find out later that it’s a gift from the Dawn court. Lucien tells us this. Lucien has fire magic and is a spell cleaver, not the sun. ELAIN is the sun. Day court does not equal sun for Lucien. Sorry.

“Elain will never accept Azriel’s profession”

Oh?

Pretty sure she’s already accepted everyone in the Night Court. They all have jobs that are borderline sus. And considering the countless instances where we see Elain is actually very observant, I’m sure she knows what he does, yet she still leans into his touch. Not to mention Mr. fashion police Cassian also tells us that Elain is not a loyal dog. That she saw everything Nesta did and understood. Doesn't seem like she's not accepting to me.

"Azriel just wants a mate!!"

Seriously?

If the male wants a mate why would he bother spending time with a female he knows has one? Why wouldn't he be sailing around Prythian looking for her? Because she sure as shit isn't in the Night Court. And let's be honest, I don't think he will even be getting a mate if it's not Elain through some sort of different bond. Because there is no one in canon right now that could be his mate, and we only have 2 more novels and 1 novella left. And his book is next. Apparently we can all agree on that, but can't accept Elain is also getting the next book, aka their book together. And no, Gwyn is not his mate, because it would have already snapped into place. We had an 800 page book where they were in the vicinity of each other through all the training monologues (so maybe more 400 pages) and it didn't happen? Rhys knew before they left under the mountain. Literally happened at the end of the book. Cassian knew the first day he met Nesta. Lucien knew the second Elain took her first breath lol... it's not happening.

"Elain should be with Lucien and they would be High Lord and Lady of Day Court!!"

Ew?

You want to kill off Helion??? I want the novella to be about him and the Lady of Autumn tbh (even though it's likely Mor). Like? No, I need some sort of scene with Helion in each remaining book. I need more of him, biblically and spiritually. Also, have we forgotten “You can not resent my decision to lead a small quiet life..” ??? Elain said this in ACOSF to Nesta, like, do you think this girl wants to be High Lady all of a sudden? No. She doesn't.

"Elain needs to give Lucien a chance!!"

Why?

I swear everyone who says this has never been in that "Oh, well he's just such a nice guy!! Give him a chance" type of situation. Like why should I? WHY SHOULD SHE? He literally was an accomplice in her human life being stripped away from her. Should they end up being friends? Yes. Together romantically? No. If she doesn't want to give him a chance, which she clearly doesn't, then she doesn't need to. Stop diminishing choice in character arcs. Her whole arc, with Azriel and Lucien, is centred around choice in the first place.

"Azriel's shadows danced for Gwyn, so they are endgame"

Huh?

Don't get me wrong, the shadows are a part of Azriel, but I don't think they literally determine his life for him. Actually, I know this 100%. His shadows are under his command. Also, they danced for her breath, not Gwyn. Which is weird. Not to mention his shadows alert him in times of trouble and to gain information. Is it not weird they didn't alert him that she was there? Like that's not being wing-shadowy, that's screaming something sus is going on. (And no, I'm not anti-gwyn or even saying she's evil. Is she a lightsinger? Probably. The evidence is there. Does it mean she's bad? No.)

"Azriel's shadows hide from Elain, so they can't be together"

Lol?

Again, are Azriel's shadows the ones that command him? Or does he command them? And his shadows have disappeared for half of the IC. They disappear when there is no threat. They disappear when he doesn't want them there. Pretty sure Azriel's whole character doesn't just revolve around shadows. Sure, they are a huge part of his identity so far, but do we truly think that he wants to be reduced to them? Doubt it. He's probably had a very hard time coming to terms with the fact people have always looked at him differently because of it. I wouldn't be surprised if him becoming a Shadowsinger (since they came to him later in life in the dungeon) was a result of unfathomable trauma. Azriel does not only equal shadows only. We just don't know him yet.

"The BC sunk Eriel"

Truly?

You mean the bonus chapter where Azriel was about to get on his knees for a taste? The bonus chapter where Elain was giving him offer and permission? The bonus chapter where Rhys was the reason they DIDN'T actually kiss? The bonus chapter where Rhys became their obstacle and lifted the stakes not only on a personal level (with Elain thinking she was rejected, with Az and Rhys having a wedge between them) and politically (the potential downfall with god knows how many courts since Lucien is a drifter and the human lands)? Like we need the stakes!!!! This is what makes it worthwhile to read?? Forbidden romance? That should be enough intrigue. Plus anyone who genuinely thinks an author would write a male character willing to drop to his knees for a female (we've seen this with both Rhys and Cassian btw) only to have him move on in the next book is just idk. It's not possible. It would be so UNROMANTIC for them not to end up together. Like I would never forget Azriel wanted Elain's coochie so bad only to end up with someone else??? Ya, that's not romantic.

"Elain and Tamlin would be perfect mates"

Throws Up

So Elain is going to go to the only court where there is no gardening because the HL magic keeps everything in eternal bloom, only to shack up with her sister's ex who that same sister almost married and her mates ex best friend? Make it make sense. You're truly showing your hatred for stereotypical feminine qualities my friend. Tamlin needs some time to lick his wombs and maybe learn how to cook. He needs to stop isolating himself. And again, Elain is not his mate. Also, let's just add Elain is not ever leaving the Night Court. The series is about the Archeron sisters, and her sister is the literal High Lady of NC, not to mention her other sister is mated to the Illyrian General. Like be for real right now.

The End. 🌹🗡❤️🦇

#eriel #pro eriel #elain x azriel #elain #anti gwynriel #anti elucien #i thought it was obvious #it is sarah #just clearly not for everyone

[viradeity]

wingspan

summary: The Inner Circle ladies have a much needed night out, talk about wingspan ensues.

oh yeah requests are open!

azriel x reader

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one. This was based off a popular Tik Tok sound going around now. Also, I am currently drinking Arizona while writing this, I realize I love Arizona just as much as I love Azriel.

THIS IS SUPER SHORT, I JUST NEED TO POST SOMETHING.

Warnings: Extremely Suggestive.

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

You sighed against the loveseat you were sitting in, swirling around your wine in its glass. The girls have decided it was time for a night out. Honestly, you couldn't pass up the chance to hang with them.

The night was perfect, starting with you guys going for dinner, then doing a little shopping. Now, you were having a chat over drinks. You were completely lost in thought until someone called your attention.

"Y/n?" Elain asked.

"Yeah?" you replied, words not coming to you as fast doing to being a little tipsy.

"We were wondering um..." Elain seemed to blush and not continue.

Thankfully, Nesta finished, "We were wondering if Azriel has the biggest wingspan, for real."

The rest only looked at you with a look that screamed, "give us the details"

You laughed and took one big swing of your drink, "He might not look like he gets bitches, but honey that dick was 11 inches!"

When you finished, the girls jaws literally fell to the floor. Mor was the first to speak.

"I am actually crying for your cervix."

To this, Amren thoughtfully replied with, "In all my years of knowing him.....holy fucking shit."

Feyre just laughed, "Well- he's 100% the biggest, no question there."

Nesta looked at you thoughtfully and said, "I gotta say, I am pretty jealous, not even Cass could compare."

Elain had a face that said "what in Mother's name-"

When you got home, you saw Az. Rhys, and Cassian having a talk on the couch, they all looked up at you all as you came in.

"Hey love, how was your night?" Azriel asked.

"It was good, we talked about stuff."

"LIke what?"

"Wingspan." you deadpanned.

To this, the three batboys sighed, and brought out the measuring tape.

#fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #a court of mist and fury #nesta acheron #nesta acotar #high queen feyre #feyre x rhysand #acotar x reader #azriel #acosf #feyreandrhysand #feysand #rhysand #high lord rhysand #cassian acotar #cassian fluff #cassian x reader #cassian fanart #cassian smut #elain x lucien #elain supremacy #gwyn acotar #gwyneth berdara #gwyn acosf #gwyn supremacy

[lovemyromance]

Im curious about your take on how azriel is “overprotective”

I honestly don't understand how we got to this point where a male love interest being protective is a bad thing. Overprotective, sure. But I don't think any of the bat boys are overprotective.

There are really two parts to to understanding this argument:

Azriel's protectiveness

Elain's personality/character itself

Let's begin:

Azriel's protectiveness

Homeboy is protective, no one can deny this. But he is protective of them all. He attacked Eris to defend Mor's honor, he is Mr. "Careful how you speak of my High Lady", he handles even Nesta with the utmost care and respect. If there is danger, I'd sooner believe he'd throw himself into it rather than it get close to any of his pretty friends' heads.

But there is a difference between him, and let's say, Tamlin for example. Tamlin literally locks up Feyre in her room, doesn't let her train her own powers, keeps her far away from courtly affairs.

And I know what you are going to say - "Oh, but Azriel stopped Elain from scrying for the troves" - um yeah, no shit.

The Cauldron literally kidnapped Elain? You think he's going to let that dangerous thing in her presence again? He snarls at Eris everytime he shows his face, you think he's going to let that evil crockpot anywhere near her?

It's not like he said "Elain can't train." or "Elain should be locked up in a tower". All he said was, "Elain should not be exposed to that darkness". Which - brings me to my second point.

2. Elain's entire character

Elain is not a warrior. She does not want to be violent. She has no desire to train like her sisters, but she does want to be helpful. There are ways to be helpful without physically going into the Bog or Prison or fighting on the frontlines of battle.

But again, she is untrained. Even if she does want to be helpful, nobody is willing to send her into a situation that might turn violent without any training. They are not willing to risk losing her, because of what happened last time.

The IC is even more protective of Elain as a whole because of who she is. It is not a stretch that Azriel, someone who cares dearly for her, is also protective of her.

And again, let's not forget that all of the bat boys are protective over their women. If we keep reading past when Azriel says, "Elain should not be exposed to the darkness of the troves", you will see Cassian protest and ask "and Nesta should?"

Even Cassian is reluctant to let Nesta be exposed to that darkness. The difference is in Nesta & Elain's core personalities, more so than the protectiveness of Azriel and Cassian. Elain will pick up a dagger as the last resort only to defend someone else/herself, but Nesta? Nesta will charge at you with her sword, probably even if you look at her wrong.

That's the difference. It's not a question about protectiveness, it's about currently, what is Elain capable of.

Azriel is protective of Elain, as he should be. In case you forgot, he was the one who saved her from Hybern's camp. His wings were shredded, he was swaying on his feet, he was warned he would die, but he still went after her. Of course he would be afraid to let that Cauldron anywhere near Elain after that.

And by the way, that is the only instance the anti-s are using to call him "overprotective" and "he stifles her, doesn't let her do anything".

Azriel may not be shoving her off a cliff to fly (sorry Feyre lol), but he is still giving Elain the tools she needs to grow. Azriel is the one who figures out she is a Seer, freeing her from her murky realm and depression. Azriel saw her, understood her, when everyone else including her own sisters and mate saw her as crazy. Azriel gives her his own dagger (the one he NEVER let anyone else touch), to defend herself. Azriel sits with her in the garden, allows her to feel peace and calm.

I think SJMs past male love interests have created a kind of blueprint in the mind of antis, so much so that they are unable to comprehend a different kind of relationship, a different kind of love. Just because Rhys sends Feyre into the Weaver cottage with a "good luck lol" and Rowan punched Aelin in the face, doesn't mean all her MMC have to have the same brutish approach. Have they ever considered that love can be shown in different ways?

Even in HOFAS, Hunt cautions Bryce and voices several times how they should just give up in their plans against the Asteri. Is he being overprotective? Is he stifling Bryce? No. He is simply trying to keep the person he cares about alive and safe. Because he loves her.

Love can be spending time with the one you care for, in small quiet moments in the background, in the garden. Love can be soft embraces under the cover of the darkness, where only the Mother may witness them.

Like, I thought it was obvious.

#elriel #elain archeron #pro elain #elain x azriel #azriel #acotar

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 4

A/N: A bigger one, this scene goes on forever, ughh. This hasn't been proofread, like every other chapter I have posted (oops?).

Word count: 3.5K

I watch as Feyre addresses Azriel, “How did you meet?” Azriel turns to look at Cassian, I follow his gaze. Cassian is a way better storyteller than Azriel, that’s fact.

“We all hated each other at first.” A grin ghosts over his lips as he starts, his eyes flickering between the four of us, Illyrians. “We are bastards, you know. Az and I. The Illyrians… We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North, and do not like outsiders. Especially High Fae who try to tell them what to do. But they’re just as obsessed with lineage, and have their own princes and lords among them.” He holds my gaze before continuing, pointing a thumb in Azriel’s direction. “Az, was the bastard of one of the local lords. And if you think the bastard son of a lord is hated, then you can’t imagine how hated the bastard is of a war-camp laundress and a warrior she couldn’t or wouldn’t remember.” I see the casual shrug of his shoulders for what it is, a way to dampen the vicious, ancient anger raging through his veins at the thought of his mother. “Az’s father sent him to our camp for training once he and his charming wife realized he was a shadowsinger.”

“Like the daemati,” Rhys says to Feyre, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things other can’t.”

Something I have been wary of for centuries. Being secretive around Azriel was a feat not easily accomplished.

Cassian continues, “The camp lord practically shit himself with excitement the day Az was dumped in our camp. But me… once my mother weaned me and I was able to walk, they flew me to a distant camp, and chucked me into the mud to see if I would live or die.”

“They would have been smarter throwing you off a cliff,” Mor snorts.

“Oh, definitely,” Cassian says, his grin sharpening. “Especially because when I was old and strong enough to go back to the camp I’d been born in, I learned those pricks worked my mother until she died.”

A silence falls, simmering anger hanging like a cloud in the air.

“The Illyrians,” Rhys cuts in smoothly, “are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.”

Azriel’s vacant eyes lock on mine, my face schooled in a stone-cold expression.

“They’re barbarians,” Amren says and neither of the males object.

I keep silent as Mor nods. “They cripple their females so they can keep them for breeding more flawless warriors.”

Rhys cringes. “My mother was low-born, and worked as a seamstress in one of their many mountain war-camps. When females come of age in the camps—when they have their first bleeding—their wings are… clipped. Just a small incision in the right place, left to improperly heal, can cripple you forever.” I tell myself to keep breathing, keeping the memories at bay and listen to the story. A story I’ve heard countless times, but never becomes easier. “And my mother—she was gentle and wild and loved to fly. So she did everything in her power to keep herself from maturing. She starved herself, gathered illegal herbs—anything to halt the natural course of her body. She turned eighteen and hadn’t yet bled, to the mortification of her parents. But her bleeding finally arrived and all it took was for her to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, before a male scented it on her and told the camp’s lord. She tried to flee—took right to the skies. But she was young, and the warriors were faster, and they dragged her back. They were about to tie her to the posts in the center of camp when my father winnowed in for a meeting with the camp’s lord about readying for the War. He saw my mother trashing and fighting like a wildcat, and… The mating bond between them clicked into place. One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her.”

“Misted?” Confusion laces her voice. As Cassian chuckles sharply.

Rhys floats a lemon wedge into the air and flicks his finger, turning it into citrus-scented mist. I lean forward to catch the look on Feyre’s face, she takes misting entire beings better than I did the first time. She hasn’t seen him do it yet, but the insinuation of it, was enough to make me still when I realised the extent of Rhys’s powers.

“Through the blood-rain,” Rhys goes on, “my mother looked at him. And the bond fell into place for her. My father took her back to the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but never forgot what they had tried to do to her—what they did to the females among them. She tried for decades to get my father to ban it, but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.”

“A real prize, your father,” Mor grumbles. I cast my head down, he never did me wrong. But his methods could be…harsh.

“At least he liked you,” Rhys counters. “my father and mother, despite being mates, were wrong for each other.” I grimace, I sometimes wonder how often a mating bond is set between two beings while they’re not right for each other. “My father was cold and calculating, and could be vicious, as he had been trained to be since birth. My mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met. She hated him after a time—but never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished. And when I was born, and could summon the Illyrian wings as I pleased… She wanted me to know her people’s culture.”

“She wanted to keep you out of your father’s claws,” Mor says, swirling her wine. Azriel finally looks away from me and I let loose a breath, his memories finally clearing. I have no doubt I was involved in that memory from the way he had stared for the past few minutes.

“That, too,” Rhys adds drily. “When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war-camps. To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained. And like all Illyrian mothers, she shoved me toward the sparring ring on the first day, and walked away without looking back.”

“She abandoned you?” I understand Feyre’s deduction but it still has me narrowing my eyes.

“No—never,” Rhys says, with as much ferocity as I felt for his mother’s memory. “She was staying at the camp as well. But it is considered an embarrassment for a mother to coddle her son when he goes to train.”

Cassian laughs, catching the look on Feyre’s face. “Backward, like he said.”

“I was scared out of my mind,” Rhys admits. “I’d been learning to wield my powers, but Illyrian magic was a mere fraction of it. And it’s rare amongst them—usually possessed only by the most powerful, pure-bred warriors.” His eyes flit to me and I give him a lopsided grin. “I tried to use a Siphon during those years. And shattered about a dozen before I realized it wasn’t compatible—the stones couldn’t hold it. My power flows and is honed in other ways.”

“So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,” Mor teases.

Rhys rolls his eyes. “The camp-lord banned me from using my magic for all our sakes. But I had no idea how to fight when I set foot into that training ring that day. The other boys in my age group knew it, too. Especially one in particular, who took a look at me, and beat me into a bloody mess.”

“You were so clean,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “The pretty half-breed son of the High Lord—how fancy you were in your new training clothes.” I snort, I can totally imagine young Cassian thinking like that.

“Cassian,” Azriel’s dark voice cuts in, “resorted to getting new clothes over the years by challenging other boys to fights, with the prize being the clothes off their backs.” The flatness in his voice revealed how much he cared for the Illyrian ways.

Cassian chuckles, he had a completely different experience, just as horrifying, but different. “I’d beaten every other boy in our age group twice over already, but then Rhys arrived, in his clean clothes, and he smelled… different. Like a true opponent. So I attacked. We both got three lashings apiece for the fight.”

From my side of the table, I see Feyre flinch.

“They do worse, girl,” Amren cuts in, “in those camps. Three lashings is practically an encouragement to fight again. When they do something truly bad, bones are broken. Repeatedly. Over weeks.”

“Your mother willingly sent you into that?” Feyre asks with a soft voice. She has a lot to learn about Illyrians and their customs, I think to myself.

“My mother didn’t want me to rely on my power,” Rhys says. “She knew from the moment she conceived me that I’d be hunted my entire life. Where one strength failed, she wanted others to save me. My education was another weapon—which was why she went with me; to tutor me after lessons were done for the day. And when she took me home that first night to our new house at the edge of the camp, she made me read by the window. It was there that I saw Cassian trudging through the mud—toward the few ramshackle tents outside of the camp. I asked her where he was going, and she told me that bastards are given nothing: they find their own shelter, own food. If they survive and get picked to be in a war-band, they’ll be bottom-ranking forever, but receive their own tents and supplies. But until then, he’d stay in the cold.”

“Those mountains,” Azriel adds, his hard gaze locking on mine again, “offer some of the harshest conditions you can imagine.” I know he still feels guilty about what happened to me, but I only duck my head not being able to bear his loaded gaze.

“After my lessons,” Rhys ignores the exchanged looks, “my mother cleaned my lashings, and as she did, I realized for the first time what it was to be warm, and safe, and cared for. And it didn’t sit well.”

“Apparently not,” Cassian takes over. “Because in the dead of night, that little prick woke me up in my piss-poor tent and told me to keep my mouth shut and come with him. And maybe the cold made me stupid, but I did. His mother was livid. But I’ll never forget the look on her beautiful face when she saw me and said, ‘There is a bathtub with hot running water. Get in it or you can go back into the cold.’ Being a smart lad, I obeyed. When I got out, she had clean nightclothes and ordered me into bed.” She had done some good for all of us. “I’d spent my life sleeping on the ground—and when I balked, she said she understood because she had felt the same once, and that it would feel as if I was being swallowed up, but the bed was mine for as long as I wanted it.”

“And you were friends after that?”

“No—Cauldron no,” Rhys says. “We hated each other, and only behaved because if one of us got into trouble or provoked the other, then neither of us ate that night. My mother started tutoring Cassian, but it wasn’t until Azriel arrived a year later that we decided to be allies.”

Cassian’s grin stretches as he reaches around Amren to clap Azriel on his shoulder. A sigh falls from the shadowsinger’s lips and I smile fondly at the two of them. “A new bastard in the camp—and an untrained shadowsinger to boot. Not to mention he couldn’t even fly thanks to—”

I clear my throat interrupting him as Mor lazily cuts in, “Stay on track, Cassian.” He looks at the both of us, the apologize clear in his eyes, but he shrugged feigning indifference to Feyre. Mor kept her eyes on Cass as I shifted mine to Azriel, noting the tense shoulders and faraway look in his eyes.

“Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys’s mother had known Az’s mother, and took him in. As we grew older, and the other males around us did, too, we realized everyone else hated us enough that we had better odds of survival sticking together.” Cassian finishes their story and I turn to Feyre.

“Do you have any gifts? Like—them?” She jerks her chin to Azriel and Rhys.

“A volatile temper doesn’t count,” Mor says and I grin at her, sometimes I wonder if we spent too much time together. Or if it’s Cassian that’s so predictable.

“No. I don’t—not beyond a heaping pile of the killing power. Bastard-born nobody, through and through.” I lean forward at the same time as Rhys, but Cassian continues, “Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and a half-breed. We were stronger, faster—like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too. Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.” I roll my eyes at that.

“Males are horrible creatures, aren’t they?” Amren says.

“Repulsive,” Mor clicks her tongue and I laugh softly.

Cassian only shrugs. “Rhys’s power grew every day—and everyone, even the camp-lords, knew he could mist everyone if he felt like it. And the two of us… we weren’t far behind.” He taps his Siphon with a finger. “A bastard Illyrian had never received one of these. Ever. For Az and me to both be appointed them, albeit begrudgingly, had every warrior in every camp across those mountains sizing us up. Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons—born and bred for the killing power. It still keeps them up at night, puzzling over where the hell we got it from.”

I feel Feyre’s eyes slide to me, probably remembering I am pure-blooded Illyrian. Cassian notes her gazing as well and confirms her suspicions. “ This fucking priss of a lady, as Rhys said, is the only pure-blooded Illyrian out of the four of us.”

“Shouldn’t you let her tell her own story?” I raise an eyebrow at Azriel’s low voice intercepting.

“If you are wondering,” I turn to Feyre properly. “I am not one of those, born and bred for that killing power.”

“You were bred for it.” Cassian intercepts, pointing out the fault in my statement.

I hum lowly, “While that may be true, sadly, for my parents anyway, I was born female. Not the son they wanted. My father is a camp-lord,” I see Feyre mentally note the present tense. “Although I was bred to kill, he wouldn’t allow me to train. He’s very traditional in that sense.”

Feyre’s gaze moves to my wings, trying to see if I bear any clipping marks, not that she’d know what to look for. Her scrutiny makes me tuck them tighter against me, straining the muscles as usual. “I haven’t been clipped.” Her gaze snaps up again to meet mine, my face void of emotion. ‘Rhys’s mother helped me in that matter, got me the illegal herbs she used herself when she was younger, stalling my cylcle. She helped me, along with these three, get away when my first bleeding came.”

“You got away.” It’s not a question. I frown, it doesn’t feel like that.

Cassian says, “Oh, she got away, alright.” Amren shoves his broad shoulder and I’m thankful for her respect for me.

“Something like that.” I respond to Feyre. Rhys and Azriel flinch in unison, I might’ve never actually talked about it, but they know.

Feyre furrows her brows, not able to hide her curiosity as to what went down all those years ago.

I don’t answer her questioning gaze, opting to stare at Rhys instead, I do not want to get into that with her on her first day with us. No matter how open Cassian is with her.

Azriel breaks the silence, taking over another part of the story. “Over a decade later, the War came. And Rhys’s father visited our camp to see how his son had fared after twenty years.”

“My father,” Rhys says, swirling his wine, “saw that his son had not only started to rival him for power, but had allied himself with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we returned.”

Cassian snickers. “So the prick separated us. He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed, and threw me into a different legion to be a common foot soldier, even when my power outranked any of the war-leaders. Az, he kept for himself as his personal shadowsinger—mostly for spying and his dirty work. Turns out he already had Lyss in his tight quarters so she didn’t pose a threat to him. We only saw each other on battlefields for the seven years the War raged. They’d send around casualty lists among the Illyrians, and I read each one, wondering if I’d see their names on it. But then Rhys was captured—”

“That is a story for another time,” Rhys says sharply, making me lift my brows. We all had our boundaries in sharing past memories. Cass might be the most open one but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell her everything, there are some things even he wouldn’t tell her upon first meeting. “Once I became High Lord, I appointed these five to my Inner Circle, and told the rest of my father’s old court that if they had a problem with my friends, they could leave. They all did. Turns out, having a half-breed High Lord was made worse by his appointment of three females and two Illyrian bastards.”

“What—what happened to them , then?”

Rhys shrugs. “The nobility of the Night Court fall into three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”

“Are they—are they the ones who live beneath the mountain?” Feyre asks.

“In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.”

“The Court of Nightmares,” Mor says as all are faces grow tight, thinking about that horrid place.

“Ans what is this court?” Feyre gestures to all of us, and the darkness clears.

It was Cassian, who answers with bright eyes, “The Court of Dreams.”

Feyre contemplates for a moment. “And you?” She says, and I know it’s directed to us females.

Amren merely says, “Rhys offered to make me his Second. No one had ever asked me before, so I said yes, to see what it might be like. I found I enjoyed it.” Always a person of little words.

Mor leans back in her seat and I focus on her. “I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,” Mor says, twisting a curl around a finger. “So I got out.” I almost scoff at the simplicity of that statement. Her escape from the Hewn City was as simple as mine from the Illyrian camp.

I take a breath, “My father was camp-lord when those three were in the camp. Cassian was a nuisance, he followed me around everywhere to annoy my father. Even as a five-year-old he knew how to get on someone’s nerves.”

Cassian’s grin only reveals truth as he takes over. “And when Rhys and Az came to the camp, they joined in.” I purse my lips at his statement. “But she had fire, handed our asses to us, multiple times. Her father might’ve not let her train, that didn’t mean she didn’t find a way to do so anyway. Slowly, the annoyance turned into acceptance that we weren’t going to leave her alone as long as it meant pissing off her father.”

“He still seethes whenever we join her in the camp.” Rhys adds.

I smirk, “He still seethes because I outrank him now.” I hold Feyre’s gaze and see she knows there’s more to the story than what we’re telling, so I give her another crumble. “I am Cassian’s Second, Colonel of the Illyrian armies.”

A/N: Let me know what you thought! Maybe any theories on how this story is going to progress? Obviously this is a romance fanfic (I'm sorry if you didn't realise that already), but I wanted to give my character some depth and not just have her exist because of her love interest. Do keep in mind this is a slow-slow-burn. It will be some time before we will be happy go lucky, not to say that there won't be any tension. Because there will be, a lot of it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment saying so!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar #acotar imagine #acomaf #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel #cassian #rhysand #rhys acotar #morrigan #mor acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #cassian acotar #flight of the night

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part eight (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of trauma and mistrust.

Part seven Part nine

Tag list: open

After arriving in Velaris, Y/N talks with Elain and finds out her brother hasn't told her everything yet...

(Sorry, this is a bit short but I didn't have a whole lot of time to get this out today)

Being back in Velaris was a dream I had never thought would come true.  The people were as happy as ever, even if the streets showed that the war hadn’t left even our hidden city unscathed.

Apparently Feyre has a little art studio, which warms my heart.  I had heard a little bit more about what she had gone through, and I knew she deserved to have happiness, wherever she may find it.

“So who made those wings?”  Rhys asked, studying the pair strapped to me.  “It had to be someone in the dawn court, if I’m not mistaken.”

I chuckled.  “No, you’re not.  It was Lucian’s friend actually.”  I say, trying to leave Eris out of it.

He didn’t need to know about that.

“Nuan?  Wow, she never fails to impress, does she?”  He says, and I can’t help but let out a chuckle.

I stop in my tracks as I see the new building we were heading for.  It was quite big.  “That’s new.”  I comment a little dumbly, not sure how I feel about it yet.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you.  This, is the River House!  Big enough for all of us to live in comfortably.”  Rhysand was quick to say, grinning down at me.

I nod, smiling back up with him as I fidgeted with my sweater. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected some changes.  “It’s great.”

I hate it.

It’s not that it’s not beautiful, it’s just… I can’t stand open spaces like this.  It reminds me too much of the Asteri’s throne room, where…

I shake the thoughts from my head.  Not the time Y/N.  Find Elain, ask what she saw, if she knows why people are falling through the cracks in the fabric of the universe.

Because there is always a reason.

As we crowd in, and Rhys starts on a tangent I’m not listening too, I study the details of the place.

It feels well loved, and the more I look, it’s less like a throne room and more like a home.  There are paintings lining the walls.  Feyre’s I’m assuming.

“Hello!”  A little voice says, and I look down, freezing as I see blue tinted violet eyes looking up at me, giving me that sweet smiles only toddlers seem able to do.

Mother above.

“Oh, hello!”  I say, a friendly playfulness in my voice.  “You must be Nyx!  I’m your aunt, Y/N.”

Nyx’s face lit up.  “Auntie Y/N!”  He shouted with glee as he wrapped his little arms around my legs.

My heart warmed.  I always loved children, but seeing how much this little boy looked like my brother made me love him even more.

“He likes you.”  Feyre said, grinning at me before she came over, collecting her son.

I blushed, “I’ve always had a knack with children.”  I mutter, a little embarrassed.

Things were still awkward, it’s like no one knew what to do, whether to stay or leave, what to say.

I held back an eye roll, about to make some excuse to run off when the scent of baked goods and sugar shoved into my senses, overwhelming me.

I whip my head around to find the third sister.  Despite being older than Feyre, she seemed smaller, meeker than either of her other sisters.

But I catch the way she studies me, not unlike the way Lucian looks someone up and down when evaluating.

She was quick to look at the rest, her face molded into soft confusion.

I would have to keep an eye on this one.

“This is Y/N, Rhysand’s sister.”  Azriel tells her, and I’m shocked at how soft his voice is, the way he held her gaze.

Shit.

At least it was no longer Mor, but I couldn’t help the worry that started to churn in my gut.  I didn’t know this female, but everything in me screamed that there was something more to her.

Keep an eye on her indeed.

Things started to relax as conversations started up, and I noticed that Elain was staying at the fringes of the group.

I made my way over to her, bowing my head only slightly.

After I was forced to my knees and beheaded by Tamlin’s father.  I bowed to no one.  Not willingly, at least.

“Hello Elain.”  I said softly, almost a whisper.

She smiled sweetly, dipping her head to look away, mumbling a hello.

I smile down at her, knowing that under those pretty lashes she bats at me, her eyes are much more cunning.

“I was told you were the seer, that you were the one who said that there were three of us that would come back.”  I say, trying to keep my voice soft and saccharine.

She wasn’t the only one familiar with hiding under the guise of a naive girl.

She nodded, and I smiled, pushing more, “Do you have any idea why we are returning like this?”  I ask her, mirroring her curious face from earlier.

She seems to realize where I’m getting my inspiration from, because the corner of her lip twitches upwards before she presses her lips into a flat line.  “You should ask your brother.”

Turning around, she walked back into the kitchen, and I suddenly felt uneasy as I looked over at my brother.

Why hasn’t he already told me?

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acomaf #acotar #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #high lady feyre #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #high lord rhysand #rhysand sister #elain archeron #elain acotar #azriel #velaris #high lord of the night court #night court #high lady of the night court #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I got caught shoplifting a few weeks ago so Im gonna have a court proceeding (? if thats what you call it in english idk) in a couple hours and Im a little bit nervous but the shit I stole was only worth 7€ and it was my first time getting caught so I dont think it'll be too big of a deal. Honestly Im just glad I didnt get caught while I was stealing ~85€ worth of acotar books, because my punishment would not only be wayyyy harsher it would also just be embarrassing, imagine stealing sjm books when theres so many good books you could steal from a bookstore

Anyway, speaking of acotar books, its livebloggin time. Last time, Feyre and Rhysand came to this cabin in the woods/inn in the middle of nowhere and stayed in a room thats so small that you couldnt even have sex in it and then they had sex. not penetrative sex, they just fingered each other. Which is to say Rhysand fingered her vagina and Feyre fingered his wings because god forbid a man be on the receiving end for anything other than a blowjob. Also, I guess Mor, Cassian and Azriel are somewhere else? I didnt wanna say anything about them being gone bc I just kinda assumed they were staying with Feysand but they seem to be gone. whatever I dont care about those guys anyway

Chapter 49

Feyres internal declarations of love and wanting to be with Rhys forever feel very shallow when you consider the fact that 1) theyve only had like 3 months worth of non-traumatic interactions with eachother, and 2) she thought the exact same way about Tamlin and then she DIED FOR HIM and then she left him after barely half a year

'"You know exactly that I would do anything for my people and my family."' 'Your people' consisting of one (1) city

Feyre's pussy feels slightly raw from getting fingered hours ago?? thats not a good sign.

'"I'm not gonna turn away from you. Not from you," I promised him quietly.' honestly, i can believe that, if you can fully forgive someone for physically torturing and sexually assaulting you after like a month or two you can forgive them anything, I have no idea why Rhys would be worried about that

can you imagine if Rhysand got shot with poisoned arrows and he just died right here. Life could be a dream but alas, I live in a nightmare world

I actually really like Feyre going feral over her love interest like this (even if that love interest is Rhys) I dont we're gonna get much more of that in this series so I shall savour it

Yeah, now that she mentions it, how come one ash arrow was enough to straight up kill Andras but Rhysand gets hit by like a dozen and hes just fine after this. I guess it could be that Feyre shot Andras in the eye so it was more lethal than Rhys getting shot in the back and wings but still, afaik there are no longterm consequences from this, like hes not even gonna have to deal with idk, his back hurting at certain points or something

Im not a fan of Feyre being so murderhappy now when she was reluctant to even kill animals at the start of this book, like at a certain point Im not so much bothered by Feyre's character being retconned from ACOTAR but her character from start of ACOMAF

Damn I didnt think the sex would be anything other than a pointless diversion, but here it is, being plot relevant

How come these guys have been torturing him by just stringing him up and leaving the arrows while they whip him, if I was an evil torturer and had just gotten my hands on a guy with wings Im sawing those badboys off immediately. or should i say batboys ahahahha.hahha

Oh, just a splinter of ashwood can he deadly but of course Rhysand is gonna be pretty much fine after being impaled with seven whole arrows

'"And Elain would love [Velaris], I'm sure of it. Although she would probably cling to Azriel the whole time, looking for safety."' smth about that line feels icky to me, I think its the fact that I dont think Elain actually properly interacted with Azriel at this point and also, Velaris is a perfect paradisical city what on earth would she need his protection for there

ughhhh all this bullshit with the dresser is so unbearably annoying

I guess I'll see how this all actually pans out next chapter, but right now I gotta say I dont like the fact that Rhysand's wounds just heal on their own, I couldve used some good whump with him. And Im not just saying that because I dont like him and Im a sadistic little bitch, even though both of those things are true, Im saying this because I think seeing him in a vulnerable position for an extended time would make me like him more

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti sjm #flames and darkness liveblog

[westrangecollectionkoalaposts]

Think about how fucked up the mating bond is, people get bonded to whoever tf the magic chooses for them considering only how much powerful you are and that your kids will be powerful as fuck, and if you don't like them or some shit happened between you two earlier, sorry but the chances of you ending up with said person in a toxic relationship are still high, look at how many toxic bonds we saw:

we have tamlin's family, his father and brothers were worse than the vanserras and his mom and father were mated, so it didn't matter how much shit his father was, the mom just accepted that.

feysand's bond, fucked up as fuck. after all rhysand put feyre through during UTM, we get to acomaf (and there is also that stupid ring quest, imagine if she died..) where he gives her a long ass sad background story and she just accepted it.... yet if she wasn't his mate she would be pretty much death in book 1, and oh wait, let's not forget the fact he hid life threatening information about her pregnancy, and like, she is still with him as if nothing had happened.

nessian bond! also fucked up, we have cassian watching nesta fall the stairs and be like "haha i watched bc if get to the end, i would have to take you back upstairs, also you fell bc you didnt train so it is all YOUR fault", cassian telling her everybody hates her, cassian doesn't understand how her sisters love her, cassian taking her to a hike bc she (25 years old) was the only one between all those 500+ years old bitches who had balls to tell feyre she was gonna die before christmas, makes her carry a bag that is a third of her weight (lets say she is 1,75m and weights 60kg, she was carrying around 20kg and according to a search in google, a hiking backpack shouldn't weight more than 10 percent of the person's weight, which in this case Nesta should be carrying 6kg and not more than that...) during this hike. He has sex with her after she gets sexual assaulted by a mythical creature, he gets butthurt when she says a fact about riceman, gets angry when she gets uncomfortabled about the fact he wants everyone to know they share bed (and he literaly says exactly that), like, he even says that he didn't choice to be shackled to her, that means he wouldn't choice her => he wouldn't be with her if there wasn't a bond. During acosf we see that he knows shit about her and he doesnt even like her but he stilld wants her exclusively bc of the bond and nesta is molded and treated like shit until submission so she can fit him and his family. Let's not forget that whatever thing nesta disagres, cassian get like "is that because i am a bastard low born nobody and my ass is flat?". Also from a logic point of view (considering the power thing and that the cauldron chooses who you are mated with and it blessed elain with gifts and got angry at nesta bc she took its power) wouldn't make more sense if nesta ended up with a high lord/high lord heir or azriel? nesta is powerful as fuck, powerful to the point rhysand, a pOWErfuLl high lord (take his telepathy away and he is in the same level as the other high lords) struggles to contain her power, she is in the same level of a high lord, and i know cassian had 7 siphons but it is azriel who has not only 7 siphons but is also a shadowsinger, they are poweful but not in the same level as a high lord/nesta yet azriel at least has a special power, so between them two azriel is more logical, and in a general point of view, a high lord/heir... (i repeat, this bond was a curse threw at nesta)

drakon and miryam, too fucked up, she was a slave, that was given to him as gift from his bride/wife/girlfriend whatever. she was a slave, and half human, and during this time humans were all slaves. and drakon, prince, faerie... she was with jurian then somehow she fell in love with drakon(?) i don't remember their story properly, but i am pretty sure that if there wasn't a mating bond, they would not have any relationship. I honestly find this one too weird/absurd that I even have a theory that drakon is daemanti and manipulated miryam to ''love'' him (pretty much like rhysand seems to be doing/did to feyre... maybe that is why drakon and rhysand were friends or something, drakon taught him the telepathy things)

vs non-toxic:

Lucien and Elain, they aren't together, elain doesn't want to get close to lucien and he respects it, lucien doesn't force himself into her, keeps his distance s he is aware she is not comfortable, he let her know they are bonded from the beginning as opposite to some people up there...

Kallias and viviane - we didn't see much about them but considering they were friends since young age, so we are supposed to assume they are good...

Honestly if i was faerie i would be afraid of having a mate.

#anti feysand #anti nessian #anti acosf #anti acowar #anti acomaf #i probably forgot someone. as usual #lucien vanserra #kallias #nesta archeron #anti cassian

[illyrian-dreamer]

Changing Shadows (Part 19)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After a passionate night with Azriel, you both struggle to hide it from the others. And when Rhys sends the two of you on a mission alone, you know it will be impossible to keep your hands to yourself.

AN: Going into more detail about the night our reader had her wings clipped. Angst and fluff with all 3 bat boys, then some more smut with our Shadowsinger 🌶️I hope you like it! 😍18+ (Minors DNI).

Image by koike9023

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5* | Part 6* | Part 7* | Part 8 | Part 9* | Part 10 | Part 11* | Part 12* | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15* | Part 16* | Part 17* | Part 18*

Warnings: Sex, swearing, violence, PTSD 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 2,010

Part 19:

∇

The next morning, you awoke alone in your bed, craving the touch of Azriel’s hands on your body. It was if a fire was lit in your heart, and there was not stamping it out.

And after last night when he had asked you to stay by his side a little while longer, you thought Azriel might feel the same way.

But guilt dawned on you as it always did. You had to put your court first, put the lives of your brother and the rest of your family first. 

If anyone found out the Spymaster and Head Guard to the Night Court were romantically involved, they could use it against you in an instant. You did not need anymore targets on your back, especially still recovering from war. You could not risk the lives of those you loved just to play games with Azriel. This wasn’t a mateship, after all.

You rose early, hoping to avoid the crowd at breakfast.

Azriel had the same idea.

You jumped, almost steering into him in the dining room as you were lost in thought.

"Shit!” you swore, spilling the hot coffee you carried onto yourself.

“Sorry! I was just-,” Azriel started, raising from his seat to leave.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry,” you interjected. An awkward silence hung between you.

Cassian entered the room, already munching on some oats. Thank the Mother.

“Morning you two,” he drawled, mouth half full. He sensed the tension, and paused to take a dramatic sniff. “Good morning indeed.”

You cursed in your mind, as you saw Azriel’s cheeks flood with colour. You realised yours had done the same.

“It’s none of my business,” Cassian said neutrally, pulling up a seat at the table. “But Rhys and Feyre are visiting the house before midday. A scent glamour would do you well.” He winked at both of you.

You could have killed him, but his advice was sound.

“Consider it done,” Az said quietly as he left the room.

You sighed. So much for a quiet breakfast.

--------

Rhys had called an informal meeting to check in with rest of the circle, provided updated movements for the team as there were new missions ahead.

He ordered Cassian to take over night patrol before turning to you and the Shadowsinger.

“Y/N and Azriel,” Rhys said. You gulped, wings twitching. Even Azriel’s shadows stilled.

Oh gods, he knew.

“I need the two of you to work as a team to retrieve hidden documents from the Illyrian camps,” he explained.

Phew.

“I know they’re hiding records from us,” Rhys continued. “I need the Spymaster to retrieve it without being traced, and Prythian’s fastest flyer to get it out of there should anything go wrong.”

You both nodded. You worried Rhys could sense the tension, but he carried on with his meeting as per normal. You did catch Mor’s eyes on you briefly, and noted a smug look on Cassian’s face that he tried to hide.

You were to leave that night.

--------

You arrived late at your Mother’s cottage close to the Illyrian camps. The plan was for Azriel to infiltrate security, his stealth making their disappearance untraceable. He would then signal for you to winnow into the records room, while he would guard the room from the outside. If one of you had the records, the other could act as a diversion should you get caught.

You hated this place. The cottage itself held sentimental value for the boys, but it only reminded you of a harsh childhood and made you ache at the loss of your Mother. On top top of that, being so close to the camps reminded of the night you were captured and dragged back there to have your wings clipped.

That horrible, hideous night, when you were merely a teenager. A group of Illyrian males had tracked you down, unhappy with new laws Rhys had implemented to improve female living conditions across the camps. They sought revenge through misogynistic violence, knowing it would hurt him more than anything else.

Just like in your dream, they had pinned you down, sneering and threatening as they danced the blade in front of your face. Entertained by your pain, they had promised to clip your wings slowly.

It was a blessing in disguise, because only half the incisions were made before Azriel kicked through the door, immediately snapping the neck of the male who held the knife. The others were killed before Rhys and Cassian arrived in a panic, just few minutes later.

Your recovery was grim, and you didn’t remember much except for a lot of sleep at the infirmary, and excruciating pain from the damage to the nerve endings in your wings. Nights were restless as flashbacks haunted your dreams.

Rhys did not leave your side, blaming himself for the whole thing. He worked to block the pain in your mind and whispered comforts to you, holding your hand while you cried.

Cassian and Azriel also spent a lot of time at your bed, the latter’s shadows soothed you through fights of infection, his presence the only thing that truly calmed you.

It was also Az who pulled you out of the darkness as you struggled with the aftershock of the event. Once Madja confirmed there was some hope in saving your wings, he got to work on your rehabilitation, teaching you new methods of self defence while allowing your wings to heal. It helped you to keep working for the court, to keep travelling and seeing the world. Somehow he knew what you needed, knew how to get you standing on your own two feet again.

It was for that reason you hated to depend on him so much. You wanted to show him — after all this time — his hard work had paid off and that you were strong again.

Your wings had taken many years to heal fully, with a lot of work with Madja and training with Az and Cas. When you were well enough, you tried to comfort Rhys who continued to feel guilty, explaining that it wasn’t his fault. He had been so protective of you ever since. You sensed Azriel also had some guilt for not finding you sooner. It was a miracle he knew how to track you in the first place.

You breathed in deep, sitting at the table while trying to calm your heart at the horrible memory.

Azriel sensed your stress, and moved from lighting the fireplace to brushing a thumb across you face. He was free to express his affection in the absence of the rest of the circle.

“It’s going to be ok,” he said. “A simple in-and-out mission, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Your heart calmed a little, annoyed at how safe he made you feel.

“Have I ever told you how thankful I am,” you asked.

“Only a million times,” he smiled sadly, knowing what you meant. “And you don’t need to thank me.” He took a seat next to you.

“You saved my life,” you stated plainly.

“I should have gotten there sooner,” he said, looking to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in pain.

You frowned, placing your hand atop of his. “The fact that you found me in the first place was a miracle.”

He didn’t reply, but instead turned his head, looking at you as if there was no excuse.

“Besides,” you piped up, flexing your wings playfully. “I’m all fixed now,” winking at him. It broke you to see him blame himself, you wanted to cheer him up.

He smiled, looking down at first, before raising his eyes, a slight mischief hidden behind them.

He ran a hand across your wing as he gently touched your scars, new ones on top of old ones. “Yes, you are.”

You shivered at the touch. He knew what he was doing, having wings of his own. He knew just how good that would feel. You couldn’t help but whimper.

He stood, towering over you as he placed one hand on the table, and one on the back of your chair, capturing you in his breadth. His own wings began to extend.

“What if I gave you another reason to thank me, sweetheart?” His eyebrows raised in question, his voice silken and lustful, eyes swirling as he looked down at you.

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

He moved his hand to touch your other wing, your insides throbbing and liquid began to pull below you. “I can take your mind off things for a while… should you so wish.”

You could hardly concentrate, let alone reply.

“I know this place holds some bad memories for you, Y/N,” he said truthfully. “How about we make some good ones instead?” Azriel winked at you, his gaze animalistic as he drank you in.

Mother above.

You blinked up at him through your lashes, before walking by the fireplace, extending yourself on the small lounge.

“And what would that involve, Shadowsinger?”

Azriels eyes darkened at your choice of words as he stalked over to where you lay, and hovered his body over yours, noses almost touching.

“What that would involve, smart-ass,” he smirked down at you, “is this.”

He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your neck, his tongue swirling at the spot as he started to suck.

“And this,” he repeated, leaving your neck to pry your top open, running his tongue along your bust.

“And this,” he said one final time, voice huskier than before as he pressed his lips pressed against yours, his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth. You reached your arms around his neck, fingers lacing and pulling at the roots of his dark hair as you let him in.

Azriel let out a deep moan, and you felt him harden against his leathers. It was all too familiar now, and you took comfort in knowing and understanding his body.

You slipped a gentle hand into his leathers, rubbing his shaft within his pants. He groaned at your touch, kissing you harder as one hand grabbed your jaw passionately.

He started to move against your hand, humping his shaft while you continued to rub. Your thumb found his head, circling around it as he bucked with  sensitivity.

“Wicked, wicked thing,” he purred, pulling your leathers open roughly.

There was not much time to spare before you would have to leave the cottage for your mission, both of you working quickly to pull his shaft in deep within you, sharing moans as he sunk into place.

Azriel began slow and sensual movements, allowing you to adjust to his size and he pushed into you again and again.

You moaned freely, you touched him all over while you admired his beautiful face as it contorted in lust.

“Oh gods, baby girl,” Azriel breathed as he increased his pace. “I will never get sick of taking you.”

You twitched around him, your mind feral at his words. If only he knew you felt the exact same way.

You leaned up on your elbows, moving your hips faster to meet his thrusts as you pulled him into your breasts, encouraging him to latch on. You threw your head back in pleasure as he found your nipples, tongue flicking over them.

Azriel pushed you further into the lounge, reaching a new depth that made your eyes roll.

“Oh Az,” you moaned breathlessly. “You’re so deep.”

“Yes sweetheart,” he replied, panting while he rocked against you. “Look at how well you take me.”

Mother above.

It did not take long your you to reach your end in this new position, your sex tightening and contracting as you built to a release.

Knowing you were close, Azriel placed a gentle hand on your sex as he started to rub, hitting your sensitive spot again and again.

Your mind exploded and you hips rutted in place, your sex milking Azriel as he growled his delightful sounds, finishing in your depths.

The fire cracked as Azriel lay on top of you, his head resting on your breasts as you clung to each other, nestled like two pieces to a puzzle.

How in Cauldron’s name were you going to pull off the mission in this state?

--------

Part 20 >>>

AN: ANOTHER smut!! I hope you guys liked the background to the reader’s past. There’s more mission-based and family-based storyline coming up in the next parts. As always, I would love your feedback on what you think about the story so far :) And comment to join the tag list <3

Tags: @slvtherinseeker​ @judig92​ @kennedy-brooke @hyacinthoideshispanica @brekkershadowsinger​ @its-me-meg​ @acotar-thirst​ @5moremin​ @honeyrydernot​ @azzydaddy @lucyysthings @highladyofillyria @paasrin​ @starswholistenanddreamsanswered​ @littleshopofwhoress @blurredlamplight​ @hanasakr​

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel smut #acotar smut #smut #rhysand angst #acotarfanfic #acotar angst #acotar fandom #acotar fluff #wings clipped #acotar wings #acotar ptsd #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #sarah j maas #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x sister #rhysand sister #rhysand x reader #inner circle #illyrian

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel: mr loverboy

angst + fluff 

“boy you keep on blowing my mind, caught up in my emotions.” 

song: mr loverboy by little mix

Azriel always treated you kindly when you were just friends. But once that mating bond snapped, oh boy that’s where everything changed. 

You didn’t think it was possible that Azriel could get sweeter than he already was but he quickly proved you wrong. 

If he knew you had a bad day, he’d show up with your favorite flowers, candy or a new book. He always held doors open for you, made you walk on the side of a street that was least hazardous. Always listened to you, held you. 

You made sure to return that in tenfold. 

Because of past relationships, you kind of expected to see your partner have wandering eyes but as long as they came home with you, you always felt like you didn’t have a right to be upset. At least, that’s what they told you. But Azriel’s eyes never strayed from yours. He hugged his family but he held you differently. As if he wanted every part of your body constantly being pressed against his. 

However, if someone randomly came up touching him, he would either flatly look at them disgusted or politely decline depending on the social situation. He didn’t like hurting other people's feelings but he knew your scent was on him as well as his whole ass wedding ring. 

You and the Inner Circle were at a party in the Summer Court. Tarquin and his newly wedded mate had thrown a lovely gathering. Tarquin even temporarily lifted the ban on Cassian. As long as he didn’t go anywhere alone. 

You were too used to seeing multiple people throw themselves on your husband. But he didn’t even look at them. He kept telling them no and they just wouldn’t listen. 

But this night, a night of love and celebration, you watched one girl just push it a bit too far. You could see your mate trying to politely turn her down and not cause a scene that would distract from the newly wedded couple. 

So you did what anyone else would do. 

Walked your sexy ass over and plopped down on his lap. Put his face in your hands and gave him a big ole kiss. You ignored the snickers from his brothers and the gasps from the girl and just focused on him. He kissed you back eagerly. His hands coming up behind your back and holding you. 

You two pulled away, he smiled, a glimmer of affection and pure warmth was sent down the bond. “What was that for?” 

You smiled, “I just wanted to.” You didn’t wanna admit it was jealousy. However, your husband wasn’t stupid. He smiled knowingly and you rolled your eyes. You turned towards the girl and she had already left. 

Satisfied, you turned towards where Azriel was facing. You saw the Inner Circle giving you shit-eating looks. You did something no one would dare do to their High Lady however you got special privilege. “Shut the fuck up.” You murmured. She threw her beautiful head back and laughed. She knew all too well how you felt about Azriel’s admirers. She felt the same about Rhysand’s. Nesta tipped her glass to you, she also knew what it was like fighting off the admirers. 

You leaned back against the warmth of your mate. A welcome contrast to the cool summer breeze on the patio. 

After a bit more dancing, Nesta and Cassian retired to bed, Rhysand and Feyre quickly following. After a quick goodbye to the happy couple, you and Azriel began a walk by the beach. 

“So do you prefer the sandy beaches or the rocky beaches of the Night Court?” Azriel asked you. 

“Honestly, I’ve always hated sand. Blegh, the herpes of nature.” You shuddered. 

He let out a loud, unguarded laugh and you found it the most beautiful sound. Usually, after a comment like that, your past partners would scold you. 

But Azriel embraces you. He held your hand even tighter. 

“But we wouldn’t be able to be barefoot in the Night Court.” He argued. “Yes, but we also don’t know what germs are touching our naked feet. I’d rather have protection. What if you step on glass in sand?” You said back. 

He gave you a pensive thought. “It seems we agree to disagree.” 

“You like the sand?” you asked softly. You’d put up with it for him. You’d put up a lot for this man.

“I don’t know what it is. It just feels nice.”

“Then we should look into a vacation rental here.” You squeezed his hand. 

“No, no you hate-”

“Hey, I hate sand but I can put up with it if it means I get to wake up to your sexy naked body in the sun.” You gave an overdramatic shiver. “Lord, they’re gonna have to put me in church for the thoughts I just had about you.” 

He let out another laugh, you wanted to preserve it in a jar and just open it to hear it. “Besides, a vacation rental would be nice. Just imagine,” You held your hand out in front of you as if to paint a scene. “A nice cabana, windows and doors wide open, curtains blowing in with the breeze. Fresh fruit and seafood waiting for us. The smell of sex and ocean water. A goddamn wet dream.” 

But when you turned your head, you just saw him gazing at you full of love. “I’m looking at the only dream I’ll ever need right now.” 

Your blush could’ve rivaled the earlier sunset. “Sap.” 

“You love it.” “More than anything.” You said, all traces of joking gone. 

You somehow were able to hold him tighter as you two continued walking 

“Thank you for earlier by the way.” You whispered. 

He looked confused, “what?”

“You didn’t entertain that random girl. I appreciated it.”

“You…you don't need to thank me for not looking at other people?” He was even more confused. “You’re my mate. My wife. You come first, always and forever, baby.” He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips to kiss your hand. 

You got a bit embarrassed.  “I’ve never been anyone's first choice, so it’s kind of crazy to me that I’m yours.” You admitted. 

His heart slowly broke that you had never had someone treat you like this. He pulled you both to a stop. “You’ll always be my number one. Even above the Night Court. Above it all.”

“I’d never ask you to put me above your job, Az.”

“I know, hence why you’re put above it.” He pulled you in to kiss your forehead. “You deserve the best, better than me, I don't know how the Mother paired-“

“Shut up,” You snapped with no real bite. “You’re wonderful Az, I’ll always tell you that.”

He conceded, “we’re perfect together.”

“Fuck yeah we are.” You said bringing him in for a kiss. 

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader fluff #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

[gwyns]

“The misogyny in this fandom is insane. I've never in my life seen such hatred and negativity thrown at a fictional woman in all my life until I saw the comments from eluciens / gwynriels on various platforms saying the most disgusting things about Elain Archeron. It genuinely makes me scared for how they view real life soft and feminine women. I'm appalled.”

I’m not going to deny that there is toxicity and negativity, but it’s not just one side. It’s both sides. It’s funny how E/riel’s cry misogyny and all this other stuff, but go back around and say vile stuff about Gwyn, and send r/pe threats to Gwynriel’s. “It genuinely makes me scared for how they view real life soft and feminine women” well it genuinely makes me scared for how E/riel’s view real life survivors of assault with the shit they say. I’ve noticed that some E/riel’s pick one thing that was said (maybe even from a while ago) and just run with it.

Most Gwynriel’s have been very supportive of Elain being more feminine and soft. There probably are a few idiots who have said awful things, I’m not denying that, but for the most part I’ve seen Gwynriel’s support Elain wanting to not be a warrior. It’s E/riel’s who keep making the fanart and theories of Elain in leathers and wielding Gwydion and being a spy.

I do agree that the misogyny in this fandom is insane. It’s ridiculous and gross. But E/riel’s only apply that misogyny when it comes to Elain. Not when it comes to Mor, Nesta, Gwyn, or even Feyre. It’s funny how some of them say Elain owes Lucien nothing, but argue that Mor owes Azriel an explanation/apology. It’s that selective feminism.

mhm, it's both sides. or rather, all sides these days. i'm sure many would include me in that toxicity because of my snarky remarks but meh, at least i don't send death or rape threats over fictional characters like a loser

e/riels like to try and rewrite history, yeah i've seen gwynriels be rude and weird too but never to the extent that e/riels take it. it's like these books, this fandom, this ship is all they have going on in their lives and if true, that's pretty sad. i'm not even trying to be mean, i know how important hobbies can be for your mental health and distracting you and being a safe space and all that but like... maybe take a walk? get some fresh air, yeah?

the worst i've personally seen about elain is that she's boring and useless, while i disagree heavily with that sentiment it also doesn't truly compare with calling gwyn "spoiled goods" or attacking real life survivors or wishing assault on people who are minding their business. like i'm sorry but the hate towards these characters, and by extension their fans, simply cannot compare. they're on entirely different levels and if people want to get upset over me saying this, oh well!!!!

VERY good last point anon. they're super selective and tbh they don't even care when it's about elain, not really. they just use that as an excuse to show how morally superior they are with their ship. they cry feminism but then turn around and hate mor for "leading az on" or wish death on nesta for... suffering from her mental health? some of them are genuinely such disgusting people. i hope they seek help because this shit isn't healthy

#yes i know 'not all e/riels' and all that blah blah blah #if this doesnt apply to you/someone you personally know. move on #antielriel #anti e/riel #asks #anonymous

[nightcourtreader]

Hi<3 hru?

can I rant with you a little? I feel like you're the most reasonable person in this fandom (and this platform) haha or maybe we share same opinion idk but:

I am so tired of seeing this fandom painting Feyre be bad at everything... her talent in painting? "not very good she didn't have a teacher or anything" (mind you I'm an artist and self-taught). her being a high lady? "she can't even do her job she a bad ruler" her being equal to Rhys and powerful as fuck? "Nesta is way more powerful than her" her being beautiful in Rhys' eyes? "no everyone say Elain is more beautiful than all of them" Feyre being a mother? "oh she will be a bad mom and can't raise her child" to the point I've ppl saying Eris (ERIS OF ALL PEOPLE) who apparently had 6 brothers and knows better than Feyre how to calm a baby and we all know both Feyre and Rhys won't let him get near him at any scenario. or how there's fanfic where Gwyn is the one telling Feyre how to pull it together and calming Nyx and Rhys just sits there and agrees with her... it's funny how ppl want to show Feyre as a incapable mother so some ppl like Eris and Gwyn should come and save the day.

I love Gwyn don't get me wrong (and I'm neutral about Eris since it's obvious he's a another version of Rhys lmao) but to show a softer version of them through bringing down Feyre pisses me off... and in none of this Rhys is portrait as a bad father... interesting! or how I've seen more fanart with E/riel and Nyx more that Feysand and Nyx is bothering me to no end. them babysitting him or a older version of him have a sleepover in their house or them literally raising him bc apparently Feyre is busy being a high lady and doesn't have time to spend it with Nyx. and no one say Rhys is also there being a high lord and have a job like Feyre ruling their court no...

and it won't stop on her being a bad mother she's also a bad painter and that rages me. we have Azriel going through continent to buy her paints, Cassian watching her paint and cries over them and Nesta she also cried when she saw Feyre had a painting of her and lets be honest if Feyre was a bad artist Nesta would've already told her in cabin but she said nothing and let her paint on everything. or how Mor loved what she did to the Cabin but everyone only focus on her drawing on the walls without permission and make fun of it. or how they have always something to say about sjm bad writing means they look deeper in it but never notice the artistic way Feyre describes things...

but we don't see anyone saying Nesta is a bad dancer or Gwyn a bad singer or Elain's a bad cook... Like ever... I've never seen it at least!

it's funny how they bold their fav Character through bringing down another... and think sjm would or doing the same :)

Hiii 💜 trust me you can rant to me all you want! Thank you 😂

I always found it crazy how Feyre was the only character to be made fun of about her hobby. I know people say oh it’s a joke, lighten up, I just thought it was funny. But is only funny to a certain extent, you know?

There are people literally shitting on Feyre for painting. And I think that comes down to not liking the character. You don’t have to like her, but making up lies because you don’t like the character is crazy to me. Like people have to realize that SJM is writer not an artist but I think she did pretty with describing Feyre and her painting.

And like you said. Why is it that Elain is so good at baking even tho she just picked up the hobby in acofas but Feyre is a bad painter. Why is nesta so good at dancing but Feyre is a bad painter? Why is Gwyn such a good singer but Feyre is bad at painting? We see that Azriel also sings, why is he a good singer already and we haven’t seen him sing yet?

Cassian AND nesta said how much the black dress Elain wore to the court of nightmares was an ill suited dress for her. If they can critique Elain’s fashion choice, why haven’t they critiqued Feyre’s painting if she’s so bad? I could have sworn nesta was upset because there wasn’t any paintings of her in the river house.

It has been stated by numerous characters that Feyre is a damn good painter. It doesn’t matter if she’s self taught and so is my nephew who is a teenager and he can outdraw my on my best day.

People get so upset about the cabin but nobody cared. Mor even brought her more paint to encourage her to continue! If it’s Rhysand’s cabin, then in turn it’s Feyre because what’s his is hers and I think Rhysand made that pretty clear. I can even see the IC in the cabin making little drawings around Feyre’s painting like Mor did to mess with each other and add more color to it and laugh about it later.

With the whole Feyre not being a good ruler thing kills me because she just literally got into the role in acomaf. They had a war in acowar where we couldn’t see her be a ruler but Feyre was actively helping in the war. She saved prythian twice by defeated amarantha & rebuilding the cauldron. She saved the damn rainbow of velaris! Nobody was over there but her. She even talked about the paperwork side of being a high lady in ACOFAS, but this is the same novella people say they don’t like.

Tarquin just got to be a highlord in acotar but he’s such a great ruler? Why people are acting like Feyre can’t be further taught? She just got into the role. She’ll be fine.

I do think if nesta had her full power before she gave it away she would have more power than Feyre, some people also have a hard time understanding that nesta literally didn’t want that power and she stated that she slept with numerous men to keep that power away/at bay. But now since she doesn’t have as much of her power I think that Feyre and Rhys are once again more powerful than she is.

I get it that Elain is the most beautiful sister but all the sisters say the same thing about Azriel, does it make Cassian or Rhys less beautiful? Cause I could have sworn nesta didn’t think Rhys was ugly and she didn’t even like him. Aelin saw Rhys and she said he was beautiful too. So why does saying Elain is the most beautiful Archeon sister take away the beauty from Feyre & nesta?

The whole she a bad mother thing is just crazy because we haven’t even seen Feyre be a mother at all in the series! Just because we got that one scene at the end of acosf, that doesn’t tell us anything.

SJM said in CC3 the acotar characters are going to be very protective of Nyx, if they are so protective with him why would he be around Eris when they don’t even trust him? Eris is allies with the night court at best. We’re not even sure if eris himself even help raised his brothers because based off reading it’s clear that the autumn court siblings are not close (they are all killing & hurting each other) and they had a fucked up upbringing.

I love Gwyn but Gwyn is only 28, I know she defended the children in sangravah and I have no doubt my girl will be a good mommy, but I don’t think Gwyn is the right candidate to tell someone what to do when it comes to a baby.

Having Nyx was something Feyre and Rhys wanted. SJM is a mother to 2 kids and just recently had her second one, so I’m pretty sure she’s excited writing Feyre as being a mom herself, so why would Feyre be a bad mother? Feyre knew how she grew up, she literally has all the chance and opportunity to give Nyx the opposite of what she had growing up, so why wouldn’t she?

If they’re only attacking Feyre since she’s supposedly going to be a bad mother and not Rhys then that tells me all I need to know, they don’t like Feyre.

I get being a new mom is hard and trying to balance work can be difficult and no I’m not a mom personally myself, but it has proven time and time again that first time moms and moms who have more than one kid can take care of their mother duties and work at the same time and still be a good damn mom but for some reason Feyre can’t?

#feyre archeon #pro feyre archeron #pro feyre #feyre and rhysand #nyx archeron #nyx acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #the inner circle acotar #nesta archeron #cassian acosf #azriel acotar #mor acotar

[separatist-apologist]

Hey!!! I’m curious to know, why don’t you like Bryce or CC? Personally the first book was better than the second book but overall, the series hasn’t been too bad (minus the whole crossover thing)

You want to ask me, on this our first day of elucienweek, why I hate Bryce and CC? ESPECIALLY when you admit you like them? Oof.

I mean, I'll share but I'm not interested in changing my opinion or like, softening this.

First of all, and I will die on this hill, Bryce is a fucking pick-me of the HIGHEST order. This is a problem with the narrative and not so much her, but if I wanted to read endless prose on how fucking hourglass, Kardashian hot a woman was, I could pick up a Branden Sanderson novel. EVERY SINGLE MAN has to simp for Bryce, including Ruhn who has a very uncomfortable passage in the first book where he is looking her up and down in her tight jeans. Bryce can't walk down the road without being sexually harassed and she seemingly likes it. Who's fantasy is that? What in the wattpad is that?

Second, every single man in the book is standing in a line behind Hunt to fuck Bryce. IDK what your experience with this is, but I have some personal experience with men pretending to be your friend so they can have a shot. It never reads as genuine but OF COURSE Bryce doesn't mind that they all openly and desperately want to fuck her. We're treated to thought after thought about her body, looking her up and down in a way that feels very "through the male gaze" and I was just over it 400 pages in. WE GET IT. Oh my GOD.

SJM loves to do this thing where she puts you in the POV of a character who has knowledge the reader should know and instead will use that POV to lie in order to create some big reveal. 500 pages looking for a missing child? LOL Bryce figured that out on page 26 and this whole side quest has been a massive, frustrating waste of time. Of course she did, she's so smart. She suffers from Aelin syndrome where she just keeps secrets from EVERYONE because, presumably, no one can be trusted? For ReAsOnS that made me want to slam the book to the ground.

Of course Bryce is also the main protag so we're told over and over she's smart and talented and whatever but OH MY GOD everything she does is STUPID AS SHIT. This was my issue with TOG. Aelin was the best assassin, according to the narrative but every time you saw her assassin-ing, she was pretty bad at it. Or how Cassian/Azriel are elite warriors but endlessly injured. Like, either make your characters NORMAL or make them REALLY badass. Bryce isn't particularly smart, she's impulsive and makes endless bad decisions and it's just fine.

The whole "we're better than the humans thing" was a choice. That whole plot, in book 2, where Bryce is just 'meh' and treats the rebellion like they're beneath her was a really bad look. Was it supposed to convey she's better than them? Because honestly, both books give off this supreme sense that Bryce thinks she is just better than everyone else and she does not need to treat the people around her well. She's shitty to Lebehah (or whatever her name was) and that creature literally DIED for, why? She's shitty to Ruhn who is endlessly going to bat for her, she was unnecessarily bratty with Hunt in book 1 when he was trying so hard to help her with Danika, like this is a pattern of behavior for Bryce.

And unlike Feyre and Aelin who like, grow and learn, Bryce gives off this aura of "I am fine as I am" girl you are easily the worst of the three. Like I get it, party girl roped into shenanigans but we are 1600+ pages into this story and Bryce is just stagnant and not particularly fun when you're trapped in her headspace. I read book 2 because twitter spoiled the ending and I knew I was going to have to read it in order to continue ACOTAR, but honestly if SJM wasn't doing this cursed crossover, I would have DNF'd.

And if you liked it, I'm not saying you're wrong for it or whatever. I know a lot of people prefer CC to ACOTAR and TOG. I think it suffers from all the same problems as SJMs other series but her protag isn't half as likable. Her side characters are. My love of Ruhn is decently known. Ultimately there are too many problems with the convoluted narrative that don't make it enjoyable for me.

#anyway #anti crescent city #im sorry #im br*ces biggest hater #anticc

[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 27: Waves

@sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia@fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @Gracie-rosee @nikethestatue @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugsRead on ao3 here.

Chapter 27: Waves

The sun was just dipping below the hills as the two sisters made their way across the grounds. It was nearing dinner time, and Elain was starving. Hopefully Janna and Elisa had made something good for supper. Absent-mindedly, she scratched the rose tattoo on the back of her neck. For the past several minutes, it had been tingling uncomfortably, like someone was lightly poking needles into her skin. She tried to ignore it and focus on Feyre, who was recounting an incident that had taken place in her art studio recently, but the pain was steadily getting worse.

They were only paces away from the Mortal Manor when the back of Elain’s neck began to burn like someone had taken a red-hot brand and pressed it to her skin. Instinctively, she let out a pained cry, slapping a hand across the scorching tattoo. 

And she knew, immediately and irrevocably, that Azriel was in danger. 

“Elain? What’s wrong?” Feyre’s face was etched with concern. 

Panic flooded her senses. She needed to get to Azriel right away, there was no time to waste, but how could she do that without telling Feyre of the bargain tattoo? 

The idea hit her as quickly as the searing pain in her neck had. 

Purposefully, she rolled her eyes to the back of her head and held still. Did not make a single movement as Feyre gasped. She felt her sister’s fingers circle around her wrist and give a little shake, but Elain remained frozen. 

A long moment later, Elain shuddered and “awoke” from her vision. 

“What did you see?” Feyre asked, blue eyes wide. 

“It’s Azriel,” Elain said, letting her panic show fully now that an excuse had been wrought. “He’s in danger. He needs help immediately.” 

“How do you know this? Where is he?”

“I know because I saw it.” Elain struggled to bite back her growing impatience; did Feyre not understand how pressing this was? Did she not understand that Elain was moments away from succumbing to sheer terror?  “But I don’t know where he is, I couldn’t see that. Please, just speak to Rhys with your Daemati powers, ask him where he sent Azriel, Rhys must know where he -”

But she was cut off by a flash of motion to her right. One second there was empty, sunset-lit air; the next, a storm of shadows appeared. The shadows then dissipated to reveal Azriel holding Cassian in his arms, nearly sagging underneath the warrior’s weight. They were both soaking wet. 

Elain and Feyre gasped in tandem and rushed forward. 

“What happened?” Feyre demanded. 

“Koschei,” Azriel responded, out of breath, fear radiating off him in waves. “I couldn’t stop the bleeding, and I was afraid to travel farther with him, and the Mortal Manor was closest -” 

As Azriel babbled, Elain moved her attention to Cassian. Dark crimson stains were spreading frighteningly fast from the center of the Illyrian warrior’s chest.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered.

The doors were thrown open as Lucien, Vassa, Jurian and a host of mortal guards came to check out the commotion. 

“Shit,” Jurian murmured as he glimpsed Cassian, still unconscious and fully supported by Azriel. Hurriedly, Lucien stepped forward to help.

“We need to get him a healer. Now,” Azriel nearly snarled. 

Vassa nodded, all business, and gestured to a few of the guards. “Go guard every entrance to the Manor,” she commanded, “and Jurian, I need you to call in reinforcements.” He nodded and rushed away.

“This way,” Vassa beckoned to the rest of them, gown swishing as she hurriedly led the way to the hospital wing. 

By the time they reached the infirmary, Feyre had already spoken to Rhys via her Daemati powers. He came storming into the room mere moments after they’d laid Cassian on a clean white bed, Majda behind him with a healing kit. The last to enter was Nesta. She walked in, her gray-blue eyes wider than Elain had ever seen them, and immediately went to Cassian’s side. She began stroking his dark hair, murmuring words far too quiet for the rest of them to hear.

“What in the seven hells happened?” Rhys demanded, turning his attention to the shadowsinger.

Azriel, who was standing in a corner half-hidden in the shadows, slowly looked up. Grief and guilt hung heavily on his beautiful features. 

“Koschei,” he croaked. “We were monitoring Pentalos, and I left him alone for all of twenty minutes, and when I returned to our meeting spot he was gone. And I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t move without my shadows, and then I saw him on the beach, and he was bleeding so much, and he hasn’t -” but Azriel cut himself off, breathing heavily. 

“It’s not your fault, Azriel,” Feyre said quietly, but the spymaster gave no sign that he heard her. There was an emptiness in his hazel eyes that Elain had never seen before. She bit her lip in an effort to keep her tears at bay. She wanted so badly to go to Azriel and wrap him up in her arms, to provide him what little comfort she could, that it was a physical struggle to resist the urge. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tightly, as if that would keep her pain at bay.

Lucien, who had immediately walked to her side after placing Cassian on the bed, seemed to sense her sorrow. He placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder and squeezed once; she sent him a grateful but sad smile. 

Almost instinctively, her gaze darted to Azriel, and to her surprise he was staring at her. Well, not at her. He was staring at Lucien’s hand curled around her shoulder, and his shadows seemed to be swirling faster and faster by the second. 

Elain averted her attention from the shadowsinger at the same time Lucien’s hand fell back to his side. 

“How is he, Majda?” Rhys asked, his voice tight. 

Majda, who had been examining Cassian, turned toward the others. At the sorrowful expression on her face, Elain’s stomach turned upside down. 

“There is nothing I can do for him,” she said. “The venom in his wounds…it is made of something much stronger than my magic. It is the kind of poison that worsens over time.” A heavy, pregnant pause. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Nesta snarled. “I do not accept that.” She turned to Lucien. “You,” she pointed, “You are a healer. Heal him.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked down to Elain before he slowly approached the unconscious warrior. Gently, he laid his hands on Cassian’s chest, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. They all waited with bated breath.

A moment later, Lucien looked up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There is nothing I can do, either.”

The following silence was deafening. It was broken when Nesta let out a heart wrenching sob and buried her head in Cassian’s shoulder, hiding her face from the rest of them. 

Without another word or glance at any of them, Azriel strode out the doors. They slammed shut with a resounding finality. 

“What do we do, then?” Feyre whispered. “Just sit and wait for him to die?”

“No,” Rhys responded, violet eyes glowing with fear and fury. “We will find a way. We need to contact Helion, see if there’s any magic he knows of that we don’t…we’ll have Nuala or Cerridwen tell the priestesses in the library to start scouring every book on healing magic they can find. We will try and find a cure until - ” but he cut himself off, swallowing deeply. 

The intangible string around her lung tugged sharply, startling her. She looked up to find Lucien staring at her intently, both his normal russet-colored eye and the golden, artificial one pinning her in place. “Yes,” he said out loud. “We will do all of that. And we will pray to the gods for the miracle of life,” he said.

The miracle of life. 

She knew what he was telling her. What Lucien didn’t know was that he was telling her something she already knew. Something she already planned to do. 

But to do it in front of everybody else…anxiety twisted in her gut. Why she was still so hesitant to share her healing powers with the rest of her family, she could not say. No matter her reason - or lack thereof - the fact remained that she could simply not fathom announcing the capabilities of her magic to everyone in this way.

Thankfully, Lucien seemed to understand this without having to be told. 

“Come,” Lucien said. “You contact your priestesses, and I’ll contact Helion. It will go faster that way.”

Hesitantly, Rhys and Feyre murmured their agreement and, along with Majda and the rest of the room, followed Lucien out the door. Nesta, however, grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it next to Cassian’s bed. She sat, entwining her fingers with his.

“I’m staying,” she said harshly, voice slightly muffled, face nestled against Cassian’s motionless form. 

Lucien glanced warily at Elain, who gave a subtle nod. 

“I’ll stay with her,” she said quietly, and the others departed, leaving the two eldest Archeron sisters alone. When their footsteps faded entirely, Elain turned to Nesta. An overwhelming scent of worry and grief emanated from her sister in waves. 

For the first time in a long time, Elain felt the desire to comfort Nesta. To wrap her in her arms and promise that everything would be fine, just like they used to do when they were children with empty bellies, shaking from the bitter cold. But there were no promises she could make that would ease Nesta’s ache.

She could, however, provide her momentary peace. 

Elain inhaled deeply, magic writhing inside of her like a snake, and allowed herself to plunge into that depthless reservoir of power. When her fingertips began to glow, she carefully rested a hand atop her sister’s tense shoulder. “Sleep, Nesta,” she murmured, and a second later, the eldest Archeron sister’s body went limp and languid as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

To sleep is, after all, just one way the body makes itself whole again. One way it heals itself.

When she was sure Nesta had passed out, Elain walked to the other side of the bed and stared down at Cassian’s handsome, weather-beaten face. For a male who looked carved of stone, who laughed as he slaughtered formidable enemies on the battlefield, he appeared unnervingly fragile right now. Vulnerable. 

She placed a hand in the center of Cassian’s broad chest, right above the worst of his wounds. The bright light gleaming in her hands traveled across his sternum, his torso; it grew brighter and brighter until she could hardly see; she was trembling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, summoning more of her magic than she ever had before, pushing herself to the point where black spots appeared in her vision and she was on the verge of passing out. But still, she did not stop. But still, she did not yield. 

Only when the chest beneath her suddenly surged upward, only when a burst of air - of life - escaped from the sleeping male’s lips, did she step back and sink to the floor. Heavy breaths percolated through her lungs. Beads of sweat dripped down the back of her neck and ran over the knobs of her spine, and her limbs felt like jelly, weak and trembling.

But on the bed, fresh life flowed through Cassian’s newly-healed body. 

***

Sitting in the den of the Mortal Manor, Azriel nursed a glass of - well, he wasn't quite sure which liquor he was consuming at the moment. Just knew it was dark and bitter and strong enough to numb the debilitating ache in his chest ever so slightly. Throwing back another sip, he stared ceaselessly into the fireplace, where roaring flames licked and danced, and tried his very best not to think. 

It was pointless, of course. He could not quiet the voices in his head any more than he could quiet the buzzing of his shadows as they circled him anxiously, far too aware of the guilt and grief consuming him. Even his shadows knew that he was past reprieve. 

He’d found Cassian on his fourth lap around the island. He was flying above when he saw a motionless body lying on the shore. Heart in this throat, he dove toward it. Cassian was lying on his back, the lower half of his body in the water and the upper in the sand, waves lapping gently over him. A single large stab wound lay right above his heart, and the blood seeping through his leathers turned the water around him a light red.

He shoved the mental image away, unable to stomach it any longer. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he have been so distracted, so focused on other, less important things that he allowed the very fucking enemy he’d been trying to track for months kidnap and harm his brother right under his nose? It was a failure beyond comprehension. And if Cassian -  Azriel could not even bear to think of the word. But if the worst was to come of this, he would never forgive himself. 

With white knuckles, he tossed back the rest of his drink, refilled it and returned to hating himself. 

He heard Elain before he saw her. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, a note of exhaustion in her voice. Her presence, which usually brought him inexplicable comfort, now incited a rush of anger. What the fuck did she have to feel exhausted about? Cassian was in the other room dying, and she had the audacity to act tired and overwhelmed? 

Not bothering to turn around, he said, “What do you want?” 

Elain paused, her confusion tangible. 

“I came to tell you something,” she said after a long moment.

“Spit it out, then.”

“Why are you treating me like this?” she demanded, her tone aghast. As if she couldn't believe he would ever speak to her this way. “What is the matter?”

“What is the matter?” he repeated darkly. Coldly. “What in the hells do you think is the matter? Cassian was taken from right under my nose. Then he almost died. He could still die.” He let out a humorless laugh. “He probably will die. And when he does, it will be all my fault.” 

“Azriel, none of this is your fault.”

Ignoring her, he swiftly stood and crossed the room to the bar cart. Poured himself yet another glass, scarred hands shaking with barely restrained emotion. In one swift gulp, he downed the contents, welcoming the burn as it traveled down his throat and into his veins, imbibing him with sweet, sweet numbness. Then he poured himself another one. 

“I felt you,” she said quietly. 

“What?”

“When you were in Pentalos. I felt our bargain tattoo burning. I knew you were in danger.” A pause, then a whisper. “I was so scared for you.”

“Hmm.” He took another heavy sip, still refusing to look at her. “Would have been helpful for you to do something about it.”

Another tense silence followed his venomous words. He didn’t care. Barely even registered what he’d said; barely even comprehended what was happening right now. All he could see, all he could think of, was Cassian’s body lying motionless on the beach, waves washing over him again and again.

“I tried to get to you,” she said, sounding close to tears. “I tried so hard, Azriel. But by the time I’d convinced Feyre to leave, you had already returned with Cassian and -”

At the sound of Cassian’s name, Azriel’s fist clenched so hard against the glass he held that it shattered. Little glass shards fell to the floor, catching the firelight and glinting like diamonds. 

Surely now Elain would leave him alone. Surely now she would understand that he was in no mental state to have a productive conversation. 

But still she remained, her jasmine and honey scent fluttering in the air, taunting him.

“Is that why you are angry at me?” she asked. “Because I did not come to your aid?” She sounded genuinely curious and concerned. 

Unwarranted and misplaced wrath burst forth from him with a mighty vengeance. In the span of a second, he’d crossed the room, stopping inches away from Elain. He towered over her with wings taut and fully extended. “No, that’s not why I’m angry with you,” he hissed. His shadows pressed so close into him that even he could not tell where they ended and he began. “I’m angry because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been so distracted. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be unraveling at the goddamn seams. Wouldn’t be so out of my head that I don’t even notice when a Death Lord tries to kill my brother!” He was screaming now, fury and guilt swallowing him whole. Again, he saw Cassian’s body; again, he saw the relentless, punishing waves. 

To her credit, she did not retreat. How many fae warriors, who spouted valor and fearlessness, had balked at his deathly temper? At the dangerous essence that ran through his veins like a drug? And yet Elain Archeron in her simple green dress, the ubiquitous smell of flowers wafting around her, stood steady. And yet she remained, staring his darkness right in its face. 

There was no fear in her expression. In fact, her face was as smooth as marble.

And just as cold.

“You’re being mean,” she said, lips barely moving.

He laughed, cruelly, because that was all he knew to do.

“And you’re being useless, like always.”

Azriel thought that nothing could make him feel worse than he did right now, but the devastation in Elain’s big brown eyes did the trick. He regretted his words as soon as he said them, but they were out, they were said; how could he take them back? Of course he didn’t mean them. But he hadn’t meant for Cassian to get hurt, and it had happened, anyway. It was all his fault, all of it, all of it -

“I came to tell you that Cassian has woken up,” Elain said, her face once again unreadable, the sadness that had been splashed across it just moments before gone. “He is expected to make a full recovery.”

Azriel froze as her words resonated. The very next moment, hot and dizzy relief flowed through him, and then he was melting, legs going weak and the debilitating fear rushing out of him like water down a drain. He let out a strange sound, something between a sob and a laugh. Ran his hands through his hair as he continued to chuckle wetly.

“How?” he croaked out. “I don’t…how is that possible? An hour ago, he was dying. An hour ago, he was as good as gone. What changed?”

When Elain’s eyes darted to the floor, clearly avoiding his gaze, understanding dawned on him. 

“You…It was you?” he whispered. “Elain?” he questioned as she continued to remain silent. His giddiness dimmed as he recalled the venomous words he’d spat at her only moments before, regret replacing it. “Elain, baby, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, reaching for her hand, but she stepped back, pulling out of his reach. 

“You should go speak to Cassian,” she said, still speaking in that detached voice. Still refusing to look at him. “He was asking for you.” 

Before he could begin to process her words, she had walked out. The light floral scent of her remained, though, a reminder of the ruin and rot he continued to bring to those who deserved it least.

Azriel sunk into a nearby chair. Buried his hands in his face.

Let the waves wash over him. 

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