#call it the cassian book already

[serpentandlily]

Arcane - Azriel x Reader

Azriel x DeathGod!Reader

Summary: Azriel never thought he’d find his mate, was convinced the Mother hadn’t even given him one because he was unworthy. That is, until he stumbles upon his mate while looking for the most unusual ally.

Based on this request.

Warnings: very brief illusion to past SA

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Rhys declared, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m afraid another war is on the horizon. Koschei cannot be dealt with alone.”

“I don’t understand. The weaver and the bone carver were able to be killed,” Cassian interjected. “Why is it impossible for us to find a way to kill Koschei?”

“It took the might of the cauldron to defeat them,” Rhys explained.

“Well, then let’s ask Miriam and Drakon if we can use the cauldron,” Cassian replied, giving the obvious answer.

“It would be no use,” Feyre sighed. “I destroyed the book. We’d have no idea how to cast the spell the King of Hybern used that day. And we risk Koschei, himself, getting his hands on the cauldron.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mor chimed in. “Something, someone, that could be as powerful as the sorcerer himself. He wasn’t the only God that found their way to Prythian.”

“Most of them are locked up in the Prison,” Rhys said. “And the Prison would not allow us to free any of them even if we wanted to.”

“Az, how has your search for Bryaxis been going?” Feyre asked.

“Not good,” Azriel answered honestly. “It’s like that thing disappeared from Prythian entirely.”

The room was silent for a moment until Amren sat up straight. “Wait, there is someone we could go to for help. As a last resort.”

Rhys lifted his head, staring at her with a heavy resolve. “No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous.”

“You said it yourself, we’re out of options!”

“What are you two talking about?” Feyre asked, looking between them.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Bryaxis…had a sibling. If you could even call her that. Someone who also came from wherever he slipped through from.”

“And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Mor asked with a glare, crossing her arms.

“Because,” Rhys started. “Like I said, it’s too dangerous to get into contact with her. She’s…well, to be honest, no one really knows much about her. She keeps herself in a dark cave somewhere in the middle. Likes the darkness as much as Bryaxis does.”

“If no one knows much about her, then how do you know she’s dangerous?” Feyre asked. “Everyone was scared of Bryaxis until I went down there and was helped by it.”

“I’ve been told stories of her from my father,” Rhys explained. “How in the past, long before any of us were born, she could cause the fall of entire armies. Could level any court into rubble and dust.”

“And if that’s true, then doesn’t it speak to her character that she hasn’t done any of that? Maybe she is good of heart,” Mor suggested.

“We’re out of options, Rhys,” Amren said. “She might be our last hope.”

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess we better get ready for a trip to the middle.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian to see him frowning as they stood in front of the dark cave. It was just him, Cass and Rhys who had come here to try and find this creature to ask for help. But it seemed Cassian was already losing his nerve.

“I tried to tell you,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “Azriel, can you scout ahead with your shadows?”

As soon as those words left Rhysand’s mouth, Azriel’s shadows darted ahead, trailing into the cave in a flurry. Azriel’s eyes widened as he was left standing completely bare, exposed. Not a single shadow had stayed with him, which was unusual. He tried to brush it off, tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt without them.

They waited expectantly but his shadows never returned. Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t call them back,” he said to his two brothers watching him. “They aren’t listening to me.”

“That’s…unusual,” Rhysand said, stroking his jaw.

Nothing more was said as the darkness in the cave seemed to grow and grow, almost extending out towards them despite the sun overhead.

“Who are you?”

The feminine voice was sensual yet sweet, playful almost. Nothing like he had been expecting. It struck something inside of Azriel, making his chest ache. Rhysand stood up straight, switching from brother to the High Lord in a mere second.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” Rhys answered, plucking a piece of lint from his coat. “If my sources are right, I believe you are y/n, sister of Bryaxis.”

“That I am,” the voice answered. “Why are you here? No one ever dares come here.”

Those words might’ve seemed like a threat, but her tone was light, curious.

“We’ve come to beg a boon,” Rhysand answered honestly. “There is another Death God who threatens war. We have been unable to stop his efforts.”

“Nobody has ever asked for my help before,” the voice said back in that same curious tone. “And what of Bryaxis. Will they help as well?”

“Bryaxis…Bryaxis was freed by my High Lady. We have been unable to find them.”

A step in the darkness. Another. Light footsteps came closer and closer to the edge of the cave. Azriel’s heart rate picked up, his hand falling to truth-teller. Cassian’s face was white and he looked ready to flee.

“You are afraid.”

It was not a question. Just a statement. But Rhysand answered it like it was.

“Bryaxis is made of nightmares,” he explained. “Something so terrifying to us. Perhaps you do not see it the same way but I imagine you are much the same and that is why we are…nervous.”

A laugh. A light, lilting laugh. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest.

“Me and Bryaxis are not made of the same thing, but opposite. A balance for our world,” the voice said. “Bryaxis is made of nightmares but I am made of dreams.

“Then why do you hide in the shadows?” The question came out of Azriel’s mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He could see his own shadows now, twirling in the darkness as if they were home.

“When we were captured, Bryaxis caused them fear so they were locked below the earth.” Her voice was sadder now, more serious and Azriel found himself hating that. “But I-I caused them…something different than fear. So they kept me locked in their bed chambers for decades, centuries, until I was able to escape. But then I learned those that did not desire me, feared me instead for the same reason. I was either caged or hunted. That is why I hide here.”

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine. His face hardened at what she was implying. The fae who had captured the two Gods had locked one beneath the library and had used the other for…He felt sick to his stomach.

“If you are to help us,” Rhysand spoke, “I can promise you that we have no intention of keeping you locked up at all.”

“I do not trust the fae. Bind your words to magic and perhaps I will help you in return.”

“What is it that you want from us?”

It was silent for a moment, as if she were pondering.

“A place to stay. A place to live. Somewhere safe from being hunted or kept as a prisoner. A chance to live in this world, outside of this cave. To get to experience all that you do. That is what I wish for.”

Azriel knew that wish. Knew it all too well. For it was one he had for years while being locked in his father’s dungeon. So maybe that is why he found himself stepping closer to the cave, found himself unafraid of the darkness that had captured his own shadows.

Maybe that was why those words slipped out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions, before he could be held back by one of his brothers.

“I will promise you that, y/n. I will promise you the opportunity to experience life outside of this cage, outside of the darkness.”

He could feel the heavy stares from his brothers on his back but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look anywhere but that darkness, even though he felt so exposed without his shadows.

Another footstep.

And another.

Until a figure began to emerge from the darkness, finally stepping into the light.

Azriel’s breathed hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.

Because before him now stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The type of beauty only a Goddess could possess. The type of beauty that had his head spinning, had his heart palpitating in his chest.

She smiled and he felt the whole world pause in that moment. It was a sight that would bring any male to his knees. A sight that could start wars.

She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Then I will help you, shadowsinger,” she said.

He mindlessly took her hand in his, shaking it as the sting of magic burned on both of their skin forming a bargain tattoo on the inner wrist. He looked down at it to see what the magic had created out of their promise to each other.

Swirls of shadows with a small lunar moth emerging at the end. A creature that sought light, finally leaving the darkness.

When he met her eyes again, those beautiful expressive eyes, he stumbled back a step. Stumbled as a golden thread unwound itself in his chest and pierced straight through the universe to the female standing before him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The battle lasted thirty-seven days. Koschei was defeated, the females he had spelled were freed. Beron had been exposed for helping him and was killed by Eris finally, bringing a new leader to Autumn.

And things were finally at peace.

“What are these again?”

Your index finger poked at the spongy thing on your plate. It smelled sweet, good. And it was warm to the touch. You glanced up to see the shadowsinger watching you, amused.

“Those are pancakes,” Azriel answered with a chuckle.

“Pancakes,” you repeated, slowly, testing the word on your tongue. “I thought cakes were desserts. Not breakfast.”

“They are a bit different from cake. Made in a pan instead of baked in the oven, hence the name,” Azriel explained.

You hummed in response, taking a bite out of one of the pancakes. “Hm, just as sweet as cake.”

“I might’ve added a bit more sugar than normal to them,” Azriel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To satisfy that raging sweet tooth of yours.”

Your cheeks heated, that ticklish feeling in your stomach came again. A feeling you had never felt before this month and still had yet to make sense of. It made something in your chest ache when you looked at Azriel.

“You made these?”

Azriel nodded. “Someone slept through breakfast with the others.”

Your cheeks turned even redder.

“You should’ve woken me up,” you muttered before stuffing more bits of pancake into your mouth.

“You deserve to rest, y/n.” Azriel was still watching you with that little glint in his eyes. “After everything, you deserve to rest.”

Since coming to Velaris to help with Koschei, Azriel had been the one to show you around, to help you learn the customs of the fae. He had so much patience for you and your endless amounts of questions.

The others had helped you as well, had welcomed you into their home with open arms, but there was just something special about Azriel. You felt some sort of pull towards him. As if the darkness inside of you called to his.

He was beautiful, more than any God or male you’d ever seen before. And beneath his icy exterior, he was sweet and kind. Thoughtful. Witty.

You enjoyed being with the others but you preferred times like this, when it was just the two of you. He was less shy, more at ease, when it was just you. And something about that made you happy.

Seeing him smile, even when it was just the faintest expression, brought you joy like you’ve never felt before.

And Gods, he brought out so many emotions you had not felt in a very long time, some you hadn’t even known you could feel. You had begun to crave his presence. Desire it. You wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you still want to come with me to the city today?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. That’s right, Azriel had cryptically told you he needed to pick something up from Velaris today. When you had asked him what he was getting, he had refused to answer.

“Yes, I would like to.”

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

An hour later, you found yourself in Azriel’s arms, flying down to the city. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how closely he held you, like he was afraid you’d suddenly fall from his arms. You kept your own arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

You still remembered the few hours after the last battle. The showdown with Koschei had left you depleted, covered in wounds, but otherwise okay. Still, Azriel had burst into your tent with panicked eyes and only seemed to be calmed when you had let him tend to you like a mother hen.

You didn’t know what to make of his behavior. But you did know that being in his arms made you feel safe.

“Can we get more of those honey mooncakes on the way back?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the ticklish feeling in your stomach again.

Azriel laughed, his chest rumbling against your body as he tightened his grip on you. “That sweet tooth of yours really is insatiable.”

“I didn’t get to finish mine from last time,” you said in defense for yourself. “Cassian got to them before me!”

“Well, next time tell Cassian to go get his own,” Azriel said. His breath ghosted against the tip of your ear, causing a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I buy them for you, not him.”

Once again, you found yourself with red cheeks and a swelling heart. Ever since he had discovered your sweet tooth, Azriel had a habit of leaving sweet treats out for you. At first, he found it hilarious that a Death Goddess craved pastries of all things. But now he found it just downright adorable.

When the two of you returned to the House of Wind, you found Feyre and Mor waiting for you. You barely got out a small goodbye to Azriel before they were pulling you away, telling you it was time to start getting ready for the night.

Tonight was Starfall. Something you hadn’t seen in centuries. The girls helped you get ready as day turned to dusk and finally night.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Mor giggled, leading all of you out of the room and up to the main balcony. You could already hear the crowd and the music.

You felt nervous as you reached the top, your eyes instantly darting around to find that one person you were always looking for these days.

Azriel stood with Rhysand and Cassian, dressed in all black, finely tailored pants and a matching coat. He looked handsome, yet still beautifully lethal. The darkness and light bounced off the elegant planes of his face, causing his hazel eyes to glow golden.

When he caught sight of you, those eyes widened and you felt them roam your entire body. You’d always hated being looked at in such a way, but not with Azriel. Never with him.

In fact, you found yourself getting heated under his stare.

Rhysand and Cassian moved to their respective mates, leaving you to greet Azriel alone. He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You are stunning,” he whispered. “Absolutely stunning. Happy Starfall.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

Azriel gave you a rare smile that had your heart pounding. You peered at the crowd, watching the faeries enjoying their evening. Azriel stood with you, his fingers brushing against yours in a comforting gesture. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, not when your presence was met with so many stares of both fear and desire.

“What are they doing?” You looked at the crowd of faeries that seemed to all be paired off, moving to the music from the band.

Azriel’s lips twitched, like they always did when you asked him a question like this. “They’re dancing.”

“Dancing,” you repeated. The word sounded familiar, like something you had known in a past life. You had spent so many years in that cave, you had turned into a mere shadow of who you used to be.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel had turned to look down at you, running a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around his wings.

“I don’t think I know how,” you whispered.

He held out his hand to you. “That’s alright. You can follow me lead.”

You bit your lip but decided to take his hand. He had promised you a chance of experiencing the world as it should be. He hadn’t led you astray yet.

He pulled you to the dance floor and you mimicked the other pairs, keeping one hand in his and placing the other on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

The music started up again and Azriel began to lead you through the dance. It was easier than you thought it would be or perhaps he was just a good lead. Still, it wasn’t long before you were smiling and being twirled around in his arms.

You danced like that for a while, basking in the feeling. The soft music, the laughter, the gentle faelights above you. You had never felt so alive. And it was all thanks to the male who held you in his arms.

A slower song came on, some pairs leaving the dance floor. You looked around in question until you realized the pairs who had remained held a more intimate position. You copied them, placing your arms around Azriel’s neck.

Both of his arms wrapped around you now, resting on your lower back.

“Is this okay?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, letting him drag you even closer until your bodies were pressed together. The dress you were wearing was thin and you could feel all of him through it. His hard chest, his sculpted muscles.

Azriel swallowed audibly, swaying you gently to the music. You laid your head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. Every inch of you that touched him was on fire.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel this, embrace it. You’d never felt like this before. So warm and light. It felt like it was just you and him that existed.

That is until you opened your eyes. You suddenly felt overwhelmed as you noticed lingering stares. A lot of them. You felt uncomfortable under the weight of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were feeling before you said anything.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He raised his head, looking around with narrowed eyes. That caused most of them to look away, not wanting to risk the shadowsinger’s wrath.

“Come on,” Azriel whispered. “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private.”

He enveloped you in his shadows until you were stepping out of the darkness and into a rounded alcove somewhere else on the balcony. Vines dangled down from the roof, trailing down the pillars holding it up.

You stepped forward, placing your hands against the stone railing. You could see the crowd below, the one you had just been in. Still hear the music and still see the night sky. You turned to face Azriel.

“Thank you,” you said. “I-I just hate it when they stare. Like I’m some weird creature.”

Azriel stalked forward until he was right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“They don’t stare at you because they think you’re weird,” Azriel replied. “They stare at you because you are beautiful.”

His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat. Your mouth parted to say something but a roar of cheers cut you off. You whirled around to see thousands and thousands of stars beginning to soar through the sky.

Your mouth dropped open. It was more beautiful than you remembered. The stars kept falling and falling, like cascading fireworks. So bright and breathtaking. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your mouth, standing on your tippy toes to lean over the balcony as if you’d be able to reach the stars.

An arm circled your waist and Azriel’s front was pressed against your back as he held onto you.

“Careful,” he whispered in your ear, scared you were going to tip right over the edge and fall down the steep mountain.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, staring up at the stars. “Oh, it’s so much better than I remembered it from all those years ago.”

“It never stops amazing me,” Azriel said. “No matter how many times I watch it.”

You both watched in silence for a little longer, letting the music and laughter and cheers fill the space. Eventually, you turned in his arms, now pressed against the railing.

“Thank you,” you said again, “for bringing me here.”

“Anything for you,” Azriel whispered, raising a hand to rest on your cheek. His eyes were filled with a reverence that stole your breath away.

A brush of magic zipped by in the air and you gasped, raising up your wrist. The tattoo was gone. The bargain had been fulfilled. You had defeated Koschei and Azriel had given you the opportunity to live a life more than you had dreamed. That chance at life was in your hands now.

“The tattoo is gone,” you said, grasping his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

Your eyes widened to see his tattoo still there. The lunar moth emerging from the swirls of shadow.

“Wha—”

“I got it tattooed,” Azriel cut in. “Permanently.”

You glanced up at him in question. “Why?”

“Because I always want a reminder of what I promised you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “What I still promise you, y/n. A life worth living. I want to continue showing you the world, to be there when you experience new things.”

You were speechless. Completely, utterly speechless.

No one had ever shown such devotion to you, such care and love. Your heart swelled up, your chest ached.

“Azriel,” you stuttered out. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I was trapped in the darkness once too. I know what that’s like and I never want you to fall back into it. I don’t need anything from you, just the chance to be there with you while you learn, while you feel.”

Something was building inside of you, building and building until it was ready to break out. You rubbed at your chest, at the unusual feeling.

“I feel this…I feel this thing inside,” You said, gesturing to your chest. “Do you know what this is? Do you know why I feel this way?”

Azriel grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, in the exact same spot yours ached.

“It is the mating bond,” Azriel answered, softly. “I feel it too. Right here. I have since the day I met you.”

His shadows swirled around like they had been waiting for this. You felt your own darkness rise in response until the two had joined together, watching together from the dark crevices.

“A mating bond,” you repeated.

Something snapped the moment you said it out loud. As if a question you had been asking your whole life had finally been answered. A gold thread was woven between the two of you, a beacon of light in the darkness. A place for that moth to call home.

You gasped looking back up at Azriel. Now that you recognized the bond, it grew more taut. You stumbled closer to him, fisting his coat in your hands.

“A mate,” you whispered. “You're my mate. I..I didn’t even know Gods could have mates.”

“Say it again.” Azriel’s voice was as dark as the shadows. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say that I’m your mate again.”

“You’re my mate,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “My mate.”

A quiet whine came from the back of Azriel’s throat that sent heat between your legs. Your eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw clenched. The air around you was charged and you felt like you had been set on fire.

“And you are mine,” Azriel growled. “My mate.”

His possessive tone only made that heat grow. Your lips parted, a small breath leaving your lungs. His eyes glanced down to your lips, hungrily. You gave him the smallest dip of the head, the permission he was waiting for.

Azriel surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled, your backside hitting the stone railing behind you. You met his vigor with your own.

His lips were soft and warm. And his kiss felt like heaven and hell all mixed in one.

He groaned as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head back to give him more access. You yanked him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You never craved someone as much as you craved him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him claim your mouth. His scent was intoxicating, he tasted like pure sin. You could drown yourself in him.

Your hands trailed up from his chest to circle around his neck. His own hands were holding you by the waist, pulling your hips into his. They traveled down your thighs until he was lifting you up, seating you on the stone railing, never pulled away from your kiss.

You parted your legs, letting Azriel step even closer as he finally pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You whimpered at the feeling of his canines grazing the sensitive skin.

His nose traced the column of your throat before he rested his forehead against yours. You were both panting, both completely lost within each other.

“Wait,” Azriel breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I got you something. I don’t want to forget to give it to you.”

Because he would. He would forget his own name as long as the sweet scent of your arousal filled the air. Would forget the whole world existed if you kept staring at him like you were.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket, handing it over to you.

You opened it, gasping at the beautiful ring displayed inside. It was made of gold with a mesmerizing amethyst gem in the shape of a teardrop, accentuated by crescent moons on both sides and tiny stars.

“Azriel,” you breathed out. “This is beautiful.”

A small smile ghosted his lips.

“May I?”

You held out your hand and he pulled the ring out of the box before sliding it onto your ring finger. It was the perfect fit. You admired it, twisting it under the faelights to see the gem glow.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed.

“I had it made just for you,” Azriel said. “It’s what I had to pick up in the city today.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Azriel.”

Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “Just say it again. Tell me you feel this too. I’ve been searching for you for over five hundred years now and I just need to hear you say it. Again and again. Until I can wrap my head around it. Until I realize I’m not dreaming.”

You smiled, lifting up to press a small kiss against his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, at the realization of why exactly the bargain had been fulfilled. You had asked for someplace to be safe, for a home, a chance to live. Azriel was giving you all of that and more.

“You are my mate. And I am yours,” you murmured against his lips. You pulled back to look him in the eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere to call home. Being with you, being in your arms—that feels like home to me, Azriel. The one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none. Of course there was none. You were falling in love with him.

“Does this mean you want it?”

“It means I want you. I want all of you, everything.”

Azriel smiled and the sight nearly blew you away. You giggled as he held you close to him, buried his face in the crook of your neck. He kissed your throat once, twice.

“Then I think we’re due for a long vacation,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew what he was referring to. The frenzy that would come with this. Just that thought alone caused a tantalizing ache between your thighs.

“I think so too,” you whispered back as Azriel pressed kisses up your neck and jaw.

He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze was filled with so much promise, so much love. And then he kissed you again and everything felt right in the world. You were home.

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel fic #bryaxis #request

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Seventeen

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.

Warnings: None. Some angst. Some fluff. AHHHHHHHHHH just look at the gif guys

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will.” 

The wet cloth soothed his burning skin as you carefully cleaned away the smattering of blood dashed over his high, bruised cheekbones like freckles. You were both holding your breaths, only daring to move when your lungs demanded it. Azriel sat on the chair you’d dragged into your bathroom, face level with yours as you leaned down to inspect his face with two fingers tucked beneath his chin. 

Azriel’s fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch you somewhere. Anywhere. 

“You said you’d tell me if I hurt you.” 

“You’re not hurting me, Y/n.” 

Azriel could have told you that he was well versed with cleaning blood off his body and clothes. He could have reminded you back in the dining room that Feyre and Rhysand stood only ten feet away and could have whisked away his injuries and the bloodstains with a single touch or snap of their fingers. But instead he’d said nothing. He’d let you close your hand around his, fingers dangerously close to his thrumming pulse, and followed you to your bedroom while ignoring the throbbing pain of his cracked ribs. 

Feyre called your bedroom The Wisp after having decorated it with all manner of airy, cream-colored furniture accented with soft browns. Your desk was overrun with neat piles of papers, books, and journals. The windowsill by your bed was dedicated to pre-sleep novels and clusters of lavender tied with twine and left to stand upright in vases fashioned from ink bottles. The scent of old books and parchment paper clung to every surface along with something that smelled clean and entirely like you.

Your bathroom was similarly orderly. Bottles of perfumes, lotions, and oils were laid out on the countertop like little soldiers, catching and scattering the moonlight from the window in a rainbow of color. 

You brushed the cloth over his lips, eyes lingering on the two splits already scabbing over, then down the curve of his jaw to his chin. 

It was reverently quiet here in your bathroom. Nothing but the faint and steady drip from the faucet into the quartz basin and your breathing filling the space. 

Color had been spilled over Azriel’s face like a watercolor painting, equal parts painful and beautiful to look at. Because he was still so, so beautiful looking up at you with those whisky eyes that made your head spin. Those dark curls that hung over his forehead like seafoam waves. Your hands fluttered over the bottles on the countertop before settling on a pale green one that smelled strongly of mint. You smoothed the oil over Azriel’s face, leaving a cool, tingling sensation wherever you touched.

“I’m sorry about Lucien,” You whispered. “And Helion. I never wanted you to get hurt like this.” 

“Don’t apologize.” He smiled sadly. “Cassian was right when he said I had it coming.”

You winced. “How bad was it when you fought Lucien the last time? When you invoked the Blood Duel?”

Azriel didn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never left yours as you quietly restoppered the bottle. “I was a second away from stabbing him through the heart when Elain stopped us. There are a fair number of scars we both left that fight with, but we did walk away,” He stiffened at the memory, “Barely.” 

“Do you… do you regret it?”

“Yes,” Azriel said quickly. Firmly. “I will regret what I did and what Elain and I did together until the day I die.” His hands flexed by his sides and he dared to lift them up to your hips, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. When you didn’t shy away from his touch, he continued on. “I wanted what my brothers had and in my desperation I think Elain and I chose each other because we just wanted to do something. I wanted a mate and proof that I belonged alongside Rhys and Cassian, and Elain wanted to break the rules for the first time in her life. To feel in control. But we never should have done it knowing everyone would get hurt.” 

“Sometimes love is like that,” you murmured, “Messy and hurtful… or so I’ve read.” 

“I didn’t love Elain. I don’t love Elain. At least not romantically.” Not the way that I love you. 

You tried to ignore the flutter of relief in your chest. It didn’t feel like the right time for it. Not with Azriel bruised and hurting before you. You dropped your eyes to the pale green tiles and caught sight of Azriel’s gloved hands. 

“You’re wearing them again.”

Wordlessly you picked up one and gently began tugging the leather off his fingers. One by one. The whole time you kept your eyes on him, tracing the tension in his shoulders and between his eyes as his ruined skin was exposed inch by inch. The air felt foreign on the skin of his palms. The feel of your body so close to his felt exhilarating. 

“I’m so sorry,” Azriel whispered, “I never meant to hurt you in all the ways that I did. What I did—” 

“I know, Azriel.” 

His eyes traced every line of your face, hands shaking. “You’re not a fourth choice. You’re not broken... But I think I might be,” he confessed. The words hung in the air between you two. Words you could wrap around his neck and hang him with. 

He felt every stroke of your fingers over his knuckles. Every flutter of your eyelashes as you looked at him with the faintest tilt of your head. 

“So what?” You breathed out. 

Azriel shook. “Y/n?”

“So what if you’re broken? Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t,” You leaned your forehead against his, noses brushing, “But you’re still Azriel.” You smiled gently at him, eyes fluttering closed as you sighed. “And I think that’s a wonderful thing.” 

Azriel stopped breathing as you brought his hands up to your lips and brushed them over every scarred knuckle. Every touch of yours was sacred. In their sincerity. In their rarity. In their preciousness to him. 

“Do you… do you like me, Azriel?” Your words were nervous and soft. Softer than the finest bed Azriel had ever laid his head down on. Softer than the clouds that turned to rain when he flew through them. Softer than your ink-stained fingertips landing on the sprinting pulse of his neck. 

“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “You can’t even begin to know, Y/n.” 

And then your softness was all around him. It was your lips against his lips, pillowy and tasting faintly of the sweet wine you’d drank at dinner. It was your hands and arms looping around his neck and keeping his head squarely on his shoulders so he could experience this vibrance. It was the feel of your body as he held onto your hips and then flattened his hands against the small of your back, pressing you as close as he dared. River-soaked robes long since forgotten. 

You were like water threatening to slip through his fingertips. 

You hoped you were doing this right. Reading about kissing was very different from the actual thing. Your lips felt too stiff or too fervent. You worried your hands were too greedy as you plunged them into his raven-wing hair and tangled silken strands. But while you lacked experience, Azriel surely seemed to be making up the difference. He held you as close as possible, until it felt more like breathing than kissing. 

Salty tears landed in between your lips until you could both taste their sharp tang on your tongues. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kept saying over and over in between shaky gulps of air. “Y/n, please believe me. I—” 

You kissed him harder just to make him stop, swallowing his pain as best you could until his breathing evened out. 

“I’ve got you, Az.” You brushed his black waves away from his forehead before kissing him there too. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her. 

Azriel’s shadows chanted in his ears. But he made them go silent. 

Another day. 

Let him just hold you like this for now. For as long as you would let him. Here in the stillness with you — the only person who’d ever brought him a real sense of peace and quiet — he felt it was safe to hope again.

The long stream of kisses ended too early for his liking, although he didn’t dislike the sight of your heaving chest and blushing cheeks. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, and you seemed to be thinking the same thing as you stood between the walls of his legs, his arms wrapped loosely at your sides and yours dangling off his shoulders. 

You’d kissed him. You’d kissed him. 

You touched your fingertips to your lips, worry in your eyes. “Was it bad? Did I do a bad job? I’ve never—” 

Azriel would have none of that. He tightened his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and kissing you all over again. You relished in his heat and the faint tickles of shadows that encased you both in darkness, like a veil had been thrown over the room leaving everything gauzy and soft. 

“You, my Y/n,” his lips brushed over the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your neck when he sighed so, so softly, “Are a marvelous kisser.” 

Had you melted into a sack of bones on the floor? It certainly felt like you had. You were blushing uncontrollably, searching for something, anything, to comment on. You thought your heart might just burst out of your chest. 

“You have frosting in your hair.” You plucked the white blobs off his head, feeling the sugar grains crumble between your fingers. 

“I think that was meant to be dessert.”

“I think you might be right.” You tried controlling your breathing when Azriel leaned forward and kissed the bare skin of your shoulder, and failed miserably. “It’s a real shame,” you stammered, “I was looking forward to cake.”

He kissed the center of your chest next and your heart skipped a beat. “I’ll buy you all the cake in the world to make it up to you.” 

“That’s a hefty promise, and a waste of cake.” 

“Do you doubt me?” Azriel asked honestly. You could ask him for moonlight in a bottle, or a dress spun from spider silk, or all the stars in the sky and he’d find a way to make it happen. Some way. Somehow. He’d give you everything that was his to give, and then some. 

“No. I don’t doubt you.”

“Good.”

He couldn’t help himself. He kissed you again, reveling in the faint sighs that he swallowed up and the few that escaped between your locked lips to sing in his ears. You traded kisses for hours on end, slipping them in between conversations and gentle touches. It was an exploration in intimacy that you worried might sweep you away, but Azriel was as he always was — patient and gentle — from the tips of his black hair to his scarred hands to his leather boots. And you loved every inch of him. 

You clung to his shirt, the scent of soap still clinging to his skin after he’d returned from his bath and laid down in bed beside you in cotton instead of leather. 

“Azriel,” You said, your voice thin and tired. The candles burned low casting shadows that flickered and twisted on the wall. But you didn’t pay any mind to shadows any longer, not when you knew they belonged to Azriel as surely as you did. “Stay.”

And who was he to deny you? He held you close, your cheek pressed against his chest. You fell asleep to the sound of his heart, and he fell asleep to the rhythm of your breathing. 

You woke up to the weight of Azriel draped over your body, face pressed against your breasts, arms wrapped around your waist, and the rest of him nestled in between your legs. He grounded you, wings splayed out and bathing in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. 

You were pleasantly surprised that he was still asleep and you took the time to lightly trace his features, weaving your fingers through his hair until he made a sound that had your heart speeding up. Something halfway between a sigh and a groan. 

He was slow and sluggish to wake, eyes blinking languidly as he registered the warm, supple body beneath him. 

You. 

He’d fallen asleep here with you, wrapped up in your scent until the world had faded away into blissful nothingness. He could have been asleep for eight hours or eight years and he would be none the wiser. All he knew is that you were running your fingers through his hair, and he didn’t want you to stop. 

“Hey, you,” You murmured when his whisky eyes fluttered open, eyelashes casting spidery darkness over his cheekbones where his own shadows curled as if still asleep. 

Azriel hummed, burying his face in your chest and sighing with his whole body. His arms rubbed up and down your sides leaving molten heat in their wake. “Please don’t tell me it's morning.” 

“I’m not above lying, Azriel. It’s the middle of the night.” 

His wings shook with quiet laughter, the movement of his body tickling your skin until you were grinning unabashedly. 

“Then why are you awake?” Again, his words were muffled by your skin. 

“Because I’m currently being crushed beneath the weight of an Illyrian warrior.” 

His head shot up in alarm. He was no small male and although he’d spent centuries gaining enough strength for his wings to feel weightless on his back, he knew they were anything but. And you’d let him stay like that all night. It was a miracle you hadn’t suffocated.

Stupid. Stupid. 

“I’m sorry. Gods, I didn’t mean—” He began to slide off of you. But you were laughing. 

“Wait! No! I was joking. I was joking. Come back!” You wrapped your legs around his back, the sudden movement pulling him flush against you in a rush of heat that made him go stone still. 

Mother, help me. He thought to himself, feeling blood travel both up and down his body. 

You guided his head to your chest by the strands of his hair until he was following the curves of your silhouette once again. “I like it when you hold me like this, Azriel,” you confessed. “I don’t feel like I’m going to float away anymore. Does that make any sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” he whispered. He felt the same way. “You make the world go quiet, Y/n.”

It wasn’t until the clock struck twelve bells and the House’s cooking wafted through the hallways that you and Azriel finally peeled yourselves off one another, shuffling to the bathroom in a cluster of wings and loose night clothes. 

Azriel watched you closely, finding new ways to love you even as you brushed your teeth side by side, bumping hips and smiling at one another shyly. He watched as you brushed your hair and washed your face, stealing kisses that left minty cool tingles on his skin. 

Lucien was noticeably frowning when you and Azriel walked into the dining room, Azriel’s scent still clinging to your skin and yours to his. You’d done nothing more than sleep in the same bed, everyone was looking at you with shit-eating grins like you’d taken Azriel on the living room couch for the whole House to hear. 

“You look well rested, brother,” Cassian noted over the lip of his coffee cup. 

It was the best night of sleep Azriel had gotten in centuries, perhaps in his entire life. 

You wordlessly traded seats with Elain at the table, leaving you and Azriel on one side and Lucien and Elain directly across. When no one was looking, he reached down and pulled your chair closer, pressing his knee against yours beneath the table. Lucien noticed — of course he did — but the blush on your cheeks was so innocent and the love in your gaze so honest that he couldn’t bring himself to make any comment. Although, he did throw a few dangerous looks Azriel’s way, looks that plainly said, If you hurt her, you’re a dead man. 

Azriel only nodded faintly in reply, as if he knew what Lucien had been thinking all along and was in agreement. 

But in the following weeks your brother would come to be grateful that your care for one another was not loud. It wasn’t desperate, groping hands in hallways or sultry looks that heated up crowded rooms and made people uncomfortable. It was reserved smiles and knowing glances when you independently formed the same thought at the same time, eyes latching onto one another until one of you inevitable broke away laughing.

For the first time in his life, Azriel had someone who wanted him back just as fervently, even if it was difficult to believe. 

Azriel always needed to be touching you, whether it be a hand at the small of your back or the press of your shoulders together as you leaned over one of the desks at Cagniv — now that Azriel was allowed inside — with papers strewn about like dove feathers. 

You were no better. You stuck close to his side where shadows lingered and sought him out in every room until you may as well have owned the space within the curve of his wings. 

But things were changing. Koschei loomed taller and taller over the House like an avalanche ready to wipe Velaris off the map. Once again, everyone heard Vassa’s cries at daybreak and nightfall, and when Jurian slipped out of the attic for his own rest, he looked a little thinner and paler each time and no amount of medicine or food you and Lucien brought upstairs seemed to be helping. 

Azriel tried to steal every extra second with you in the mornings. If he had his way, he’d never leave his bedroom again, content to admire the splash of sunlight over your body and your sleepy sighs. But he was still the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court and you quickly got accustomed to waking up to an empty bed with only a note on the nightstand. On those days you migrated out of whatever room you’d spent the night in — yours or Azriel’s, although the lines were blurred — often trekking to Cagniv to escape a house where strange, new faces were coming and going with more frequency: ash-pale fae from Winter, a white-haired female from Summer with skin so dark it was almost black, and golden males from Dawn with downy hawk wings. They locked themselves in Rhysand and Feyre’s office where bargains and plans were made in blood and salt. 

Other days you carted your books to Feyre’s studio with Nesta and Ione in tow, perching on a stool while the High Lady crafted life out of brushstrokes like she was the Mother herself. 

Feyre stood at her easel, as she had been every day this last week, with her pencil clenched between her teeth as she ignored the faint aches in her lower back and her wrist. Every line, every detail, was attended to with painstaking precision as she mapped Nesta and the old woman’s faces onto the blank canvas first with graphite, then with a thin wash, then with layers of paint that added dimension and familiarity to the two stoic faces. Feyre didn’t let her passion overtake the more clinical approach she was taking with this piece. This was not the time for free flowing movement and modernism. 

This was all about realism. 

Exactness. 

When the High Lady placed her brush on the muddied water cup beside her, you jumped up. “Is it finished, Feyre?” 

“As finished as it will ever be,” Feyre responded gravely as you took in the sight before you. Three women: Nesta, Ione, and some mixture of the two. Feyre had captured their likeness with incredible precision, using the painting to familiarize herself with their faces and the ways they could be warped and molded.  

You peered over the corner of the canvas to where the two women were standing side by side. Ione lengthened her spine, cane clasped in her hands that you’d never seen her lean on with her full weight. Time had condensed her bones and stolen some of the height from her frame, but none of her sharpness. It was a trait that granted her a strange degree of likeness to Nesta, as if you’d glanced into a future where she’d never turned fae. 

You looked at Feyre, then down to the vials of blood you’d collected from the pair. Already your magic was seeping into the burgundy bottles, testing its boundaries with such an unfamiliar medium as you released any hold you had on it. You looked at the High Lady and nodded. 

It just might work. 

“My brilliant daughter,” Helion praised, kissing you on the top of your head before disappearing in a flash of light. His empty teacup spun on the saucer. 

You felt a familiar flicker of pride grow within you. Helion had spent hours pouring over your notes, your manuscript, and leaning his ear towards your plans. He was in agreement. 

It just might work. 

Lucien slunk out of his room after Helion’s voice disappeared and sank into the abandoned couch with his whetstone and white-bone blade. The ring of metal echoed through the room, melting into the birdsongs that slipped in through the cracked open window and the clatter of sugar spoons against a porcelain plate.  

“You should tell him,” you said again, pushing a teacup over to your brother. It was a common refrain after Helion’s visits. 

Lucien stared at the three cups now strewn across the coffee table. Two empty. One full and untouched. Had Helion noticed the extra one? 

“I’ve had enough of High Lords for a while,” Lucien said as you poured yourself another strong cup, “When this is over, I’m taking Elain, Jurian, and Vassa back to the Human Lands.” His eyes flickered over to you briefly, “You should come live with us. You’d find it interesting how they conduct themselves. You might even learn something.” 

“I’ll visit for a short time, but nothing longer than that.”

“Why not?” You lowered your gaze and blushed, unconsciously tugging your sweater higher up your neck. The sweet marks Azriel’s lips had left on your skin were long gone, but you swore you could still feel them. “You know why.” You murmured softly. 

Your swollen eyes spoke of restless nights without the Shadowsinger’s hands to lull you to sleep. Azriel had gotten into the habit of stroking your cheek while you talked in bed, until the steady brush of skin against skin finally had your eyes closing shut. You missed him. 

“Lucien, I understand that you want nothing to do with Helion or any other High Lord, but… You could be better. I know you could be. You could be the best High Lord of them all, if you’d only be open to it.”

Because that was Lucien’s worst fear, wasn’t it? That a time would come when Helion would leave this world and any hope for a quiet, peaceful existence with Elain would be gone.

“And what if you’re wrong?”

You touched his wrist and the blade stopped its strange singing. “‘It’s often those who think they deserve it least, that deserve it most.’ Pippin Clodshot from—”

“A Duel of Two Faces by Aechtion.”

You reared back in surprise and Lucien grinned, tapping your nose. “I do read, sister.” 

The sarcasm in his voice was laid on so thickly you could only grumble in response. “I wasn’t aware you had two brain cells to rub together, brother.” 

Lucien laughed so heartily and for so long that Elain and Ione stuck their heads out from the kitchen in conern. 

“I thought someone was dying.” Ione rolled her eyes before her grey head disappeared once again. 

You slid further under the covers, burying your face in Azriel’s pillows as the sun finally slipped behind the mountains and shadows raced each other to the Sidra. 

Seven days. 

Seven days of waking up to empty sheets after Azriel had jerked awake halfway through the night, bloodshot eyes searching for something you couldn’t see and that he didn’t tell you about. He’d only kissed your forehead, smoothing back your hair and murmuring something about a task he needed to take care of before shrugging on his leathers. You’d sat in bed, comforter tucked under your arms and over your chest even though you were fully clothed, and watched Azriel move around the room with a practiced air as weapons flashed in the moonlight and disappeared into his bag. 

You knew all the hiding places in his room now — one of the many secrets you’d unearthed — so you didn’t find it at all strange when he captured your lips before dipping his hand beneath the mattress and pulling out a long serrated blade, perfect for sawing rope and wood. 

“Where are you off to this time?” 

Azriel had gone still, taking his time to shake away his thoughts before sweeping a handful of stoppered vials off his desk — sleep potions, draughts for pain and healing, subtle, painless poisons. You would know because you had helped make them. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, Y/n,” He’d whispered, eyes boring into yours with a haunted look that hadn’t left him since that day in the market square. 

Ten days.

Ten days of carrying around a heavy ache that every so often tightened with a feeling you couldn’t name. Almost as if it didn’t belong to you.

You paced back and forth in Azriel’s room, trying to calm a heart that hadn’t stopped racing for the last hour. You’d tried opening, then closing the windows as you curled up beneath the covers of his bed, mountain air blowing the curtains open and chilling your too hot skin. But none of it helped. 

Chasing his scent in the sheets wasn’t enough anymore. 

You tiptoed out of Azriel’s room, copying his silent steps and sticking to familiar shadows as you slipped through the House. Like Lucien, you tended to stay hidden whenever representatives from other Courts visited the River House. They were people Rhysand and Feyre trusted, but that didn’t mean you could erase centuries of wariness from your bones. 

You heard nothing coming from Feyre’s studio, but you knew that if you were to sneak through the layers of air she’d sealed around the space, you’d meet a male carved from molten heat. 

You waited in one of the spare studio rooms for the High Lord of Autumn to leave, eyes peering through the slit between the door and its hinges. If you stared for long enough, you swore you could see the air beside the door rippling with Autumn heat. 

Finally, Eris Vanserra stepped into the hallway in all his striking glory, followed closely behind by Lucien. Violently red hair hovered over a pale, freckled face composed of angular lines — striking but not unkind. You thought he looked like a lit match with his wiry frame wrapped in resplendent browns, reds, and golds that spoke of forest riches. Or maybe he just looked narrow when standing next to Cassian. That was always a possibility.

“Thank you, Eris.” Feyre squeezed his hand reassuringly. She wore similarly decadent clothes. The moonstone and diamond crown perched atop her light brown hair was a rare sight, but Feyre wore it as naturally as she wore her paint splattered overalls. She was an artist and a High Lady in equal measure, and she sacrificed no part of one in favor of the other.  

The newly minted High Lord of Autumn chuckled darkly, eyes flashing like a living flame. You’d heard horrible tales about Beron Vanserra, his cruelty, and his violence. But whatever traits Eris had inherited from his father he’d sloughed off like a second skin. The molting process had been full of its own pains, but as you assessed him now, you saw only the characteristics he shared with Lucien.  

“Don’t thank me yet. Not until my feet have touched the Continent.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

Eris tipped his head, a smirk on his face, then disappeared in a flush of woodsmoke. 

Spring, Winter, Summer, Day, Dawn, and now Autumn. The seven courts had slid into an uneasy alliance once more, weary but willing after decades of war. Feyre wasn’t sure how much more Prythian could take if this transformed into another bloodbath. But if the fledgling plan you’d all helped nurse came to fruition, it wouldn’t come to that… at least that’s what Feyre kept telling herself every night so she could sleep. 

The High Lady jolted back when you slipped out from your hiding spot, cast in a halo of cool-toned light from the dying sun. Cassian shared in Feyre’s surprise. They hadn’t heard you come up the stairs or pass by the door. They hadn’t even sensed you until you made your presence known.

Maybe she’s picking it up from Azriel? Feyre said with some amusement. 

Gods help us all. There’s two of them.

“Where’s Azriel?” You looked to the High Lady for an answer, hands held stiff at your sides. You felt that strange anxiety clawing at your throat. It had dripped into your feelings slowly since the morning, growing like a weed until you couldn’t stop clenching your fists. “I haven’t heard from him in days.” 

Feyre felt a familiar coil of guilt settle in her stomach. 

Don’t tell her about this, Fey. Azriel had begged her, his eyes hard and tired before taking off from the back porch towards The Warren. 

He’d made all of them promise not to tell you about that place. About what he did. About what he was doing. But you weren’t a fool. You knew of his reputation as a Shadowsinger and a Spymaster and the work that came with it. You’d traced some of the scars on his body, plucking the stories from his skin whenever he let you, and you woke up when he did from his silent nightmares. The slightest change in his breathing pattern, the barest flinch of his arm wrapped around your waist was all it took for you to open your bleary eyes and shake him awake. 

But there were some secrets he was still too afraid to reveal, and some secrets he’d buried so deeply he didn’t even know what their monstrous faces looked like anymore. 

“Y/n—” Feyre began.

“I want to know.” You reached for Feyre’s wrist, grasping it so tightly your knuckles paled and Cassian stepped forward. It was a silent reminder that you had the power to take that knowledge from her if you wished. You loved Feyre. You considered her a friend. But the panic wasn’t leaving you. You stared at her desperately, pupils blown wide open. “I need to know he’s alright.” 

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, then froze as Rhysand’s velvety voice entered her mind, strained to the point of breaking.  

Feyre, you need to bring Y/n to The Warren.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

85K+ WORDS AND FINALLY THEY'VE FUCKING KISSED HOLY SHIT

I really must applaud you all for your patience because hot DAMN I am FLOORED!!! And yes, yes, I know, I know y'all want Y/n to figure out their mates and I will simply be pleading the fifth and hiding in my room and not telling anyone of you when that will actually happen because I simply cannot! ASFDK;JABSLDFIGUH

*takes a deep breath* Thank you all so much for reading and for your engagement whether that be leaving comments or liking or literally anything because it makes my day and I'm just happy that my passion project/hobby is able to bring people some smidgen of joy because the world really sucks but hey at least we have fanfics

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x you #azriel x helion's daughter

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Can you please do a azrielxreader,where she is from winter court and they are mated and elain is jealous and tries to hurt reader and just azriel being protective with lots of fluff?I am begging you

Part II

Never again

Azriel never imagined finding her. It was never meant to happen in his books. Azriel was convinced that he wasn’t built for love. That he was destined to share his bed with females that came and went. They warned him for a night or two and then rushed back to their lovers or found their mates.

But then you had stormed into his life. You two met on frozen river in the winter court. Azriel had noticed you first. Twirling around the ice like a snowflake. The air seemed to seize at the power you radiated. Never had he seen such a mix of elegance and power. And then your gaze had met his and the world truly had stopped. In the blink of an eye, he knew. Felt it. Deep within him. That it was you. Had always been you.

But Azriel respected your wish to keep it slow. To get to know each other. To not jump head first, to cherish the little blossom of feelings that clicked into place without a word.

So he had dropped most of his priorities in Night court. Had only agreed to do the most necessary of things. Just so he could be making trips back and forth to winter. He was thrilled. For the first time in what felt like forever, Azriel woke with a slight smile on his face. What he failed to notice however was that Elain had grown frustrated with him. Her cunning gaze following Azriel.

And yes, the spymaster had been pinning after her for some time. Azriel had called it helping her adjust. What Elain thought he didn’t know. Never asked. Assuming that she two knew that this would never go anywhere far. But he was wrong. So wrong.

Azriel had brought you for your first-ever proper dinner in the night court. The house of wind had been buzzing from the early hours. Everyone was so happy for him. Happy for you two. But the cold eyes had met you across the room. Sending a shiver down your back, making you instantly hold onto Azriel tighter.

“It’s so good to finally see you”, Rhys had cut in, stepping closer and blocking the view of the girl. “We all had been so excited to meet you, Azriel just turned into a caveman and forgot all his manners”, a light chuckling sounded around at the high lord's words. Azriel let out an annoyed grunt, “You do not need to scare her away with your fussing”. More laughter echoed.

Your eyes darted to your lover. His shoulders weren’t tight there wasn’t a sight of worry. Meaning that you were imagining things. “It’s truly an honor to finally meet you all”, you smiled at the happy face in front of you. “Now would be a part where you say he told you so much about us but it’s Azriel, so…”, Cassian chirped, making you chuckle as Azriel launched forward to pull his brother in a headlock. “Welcome to the family”, Feyre linked your arms through hers, leading you closer to the table.

The night had been nothing but beautiful. Getting to know Azriel’s family was lovely. You leaned back, pressing a kiss to your lover's neck before muttering, “I’ll go to the restroom”, Azriel turned to you, “Want me to go with you?”, he was already pushing back his chair, “No, silly, I’ve got this. Stay with your family. I won’t be long”, you cupped his cheek. “I already miss you”, he sighed, before flashing you one of his killer's smiles.

You had been heading back when you noticed the door to the backside balcony. Your skin instantly itching to feel the cold of the night. There had always been something so special about it. The view of the Velaris only made it more beautiful. You were about to turn back when a hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you forward.

You let out a gasp, grabbing onto the railing for support. “He was mine first”, a voice sounded, one that you hadn’t heard tonight. “I had him, he was in my bed and he was happy”, she hissed, you had turned slightly to see the side of her hair flouting in the wind. The girl with the same cold eyes.

“He’s my mate”, you argued back, trying to push her back, only to feel a sharp end of a blade against your back. “He will be mine soon”, Elain mussed, pulling you closer to the edge, before shoving you forward. You let out a scream, nails digging into the metal. “You were never meant to be here”, she breathed, you could feel your fingers slipping slightly, the black void that looked straight at you made your stomach turn.

“Elain”, a sharp voice cut into her snarling. Her body seized. She must have turned back to see who had come. Then panicked. Shoving you firmly forward as if she was discarding the evidence. You shrieked, legs scraping against the rocks as your body shifted into the free fall. Eyes burning as your lungs emptied with a scream. Azriel. Your mind was full of him. The fear of him having to deal with this. A warm embrace found you next and for a second you were convinced that it was death claiming you, until a familiar scent of your mate filled your soul. Your hands wrap around his shoulder tightly. “I’ve got you”, Azriel muttered, “You’re safe now. No one with harm you”. And you trusted him.

The muffled noise from the balcony found you soon. The screaming. The arguing. “Get Madje”, Azriel cut through it all. “There’s no need”, you muttered under your breath. “Get Madja, she needs to look at YN's leg”, but this time it wasn’t him asking if was a demand, and from the sounds around someone had taken the demand seriously.

“You held me like that once”, that same desperate voice reached you making you flinch. Azriel’s arms only held onto you tighter. “I’m sorry Feyre but she’s going into the dungeons”, was all he had said. A quiet cry followed suit. Before the trashing and filthy remarks filled the air and then it all stopped within seconds. “I’m so sorry”, Azriel breathed, kissing the side of your head. But you didn’t have it in you to even talk about it. The rush of adrenaline that had ripped through you had drained your body fully. So you simply nodded, “Just stay with me”, “Not leaving you for even a second ever again”, he promised, stepping into the warm corridor.

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

[eve175]

Clingy bat

Azriel x pregnant!reader

Summary: You really need to make your mate understand that you need some alone time...

Warning: Talk of pregnancy

Word count: 807

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

You sigh in relief, drowning in the love and passion of your book for the following hours. You were glad and extremely grateful to have a mate, a partner who listens, understands, and fulfills your every need. Even if he sometimes needed to compromise on his own desires. You giggle as you gently poke at the shadow that stayed, enveloping the top of your belly, and can’t help but think of how amazing your mate already was as a father to your child…   

#acotar #fluff #x reader #my fic #acosaf #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel spymaster #azrielxpregnant!reader #x pregnant reader #pregnancy #dad!azriel

[azrielsdove]

Rejected: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Slight Violence, Suggestive Scenes

***

He was drowning. The pain was too much. His heart had been ripped out of his chest, shattering his bones. He was done. He was going to die. He couldn’t remember anything before this pain. He didn’t know who he was or his own name. He was already gone, it didn’t matter if his body stayed alive. He was dead.

***

You were running, feet barely touching the steps below you. You had seen Nesta come to the Riverhouse and you had taken one look at her face and known. You left her with Elain and took off for Cassian. Rhys and Azriel were away, leaving you to climb the 10,000 stairs. It had been a hundred years since you had done this, but the adrenaline coursing through you made it an easy task. It was just taking too long.

Nesta had rejected the mate bond.

You weren’t sure if you were mad with her or not. You hadn’t had time to really think about why she would do this. Not when the second you realized you took off for Cassian. He was alone. He needed someone. You hoped you could get to him in time, that he would still be himself when you got there. You knew a rejected mating bond could nearly kill the mate. You didn’t think you could ever forgive Nesta if Cassian didn’t make it through this.

You finally reached the door into the House of Wind, throwing it open. You paused once inside, listening for any signs of life.

Nothing.

You took off running again, calling for Cassian. You checked his room before running up to the training ring. You knew he hadn’t left the House, that he would be in no condition to think, much less fly somewhere. You slid through the entry into the ring, heart tearing in two as you took in the scene in front of you.

Cassian. He was curled up on his knees, smaller than you had ever seen him. You threw yourself down next to him, arms wrapping around him the best you could. You didn’t know what to do for someone in this situation. You didn’t know what to say to him. All you knew was to hold him close and try to let him know he wasn’t alone. That he didn’t have to go through this by himself. You sat there and held him for hours, until the sun started to shine over the horizon.

You pulled your stiff arms from around him, calling his name softly. “Cass? Cassian?” You pushed his hair out of his face and lifted his head towards you, willing him to open his eyes. He gave a small grunt of disapproval, pulling his head back down. You sighed before slipping your arms under his and heaving him up. You got him to his feet and supported him as you began walking. You weren’t used to carrying this much weight, but you would be damned if you were going to let him sit out in the sun all day.

You guided him inside and towards him room, setting him on his bed. You carefully removed his shoes and his training leathers, pulling out light cotton pants to change him into. You got him dressed and under the covers, sitting on the bed next to him. He had never opened his eyes. He was a ghost of who he used to be. You felt tears start at the back of your eyes, panic coming that he would be stuck like this. You shook your head once and stood, heading down to the kitchen to get him some water and try to find something he would eat. It was going to be a long time before you knew if this damage would last.

***

It had been a week and nothing was different. Cassian had yet to open his eyes or even react to anything you did. He would sip water and broth when you held them up to him, and would allow you to lead him to the bathroom to clean up in the evenings. Otherwise he stayed in his bed and didn’t move. You had started reading him books you thought he’d enjoy, having given up on him talking to you. You knew he was going to need time, but that didn’t help the ache in your heart at seeing him like this.

You paused your reading to look at him. You had met Cassian almost two hundred years ago now. You were in a fight on the edges of the Night Court against some of the nastier creatures of Prythian when he found you. He arrived right before the last remaining creature delivered a killing blow. Cassian saved your life that day, finishing off the creature and rushing you to Velaris to see a healer.

You had expected to go back to your life after you were healed, but Cassian had told Rhysand he wanted you in his armies. He was impressed with how you handled yourself and thought you would be a key asset. He took on training you himself, turning you into one of the deadliest beings the Night Court had to offer.

The man who lay in front of you now was a far cry from the one who saved you that day. Yet he didn’t give up on you then, and you won’t give up on him now. You lifted the book back up and continued reading to him.

***

After a month you knew you had to at least get him to open his eyes. You had to convince him to leave his room on his own and begin to come back to life. You weren’t going to sit here and watch Cassian sink into nothingness anymore. You walked into his room bright and early, pulling the curtains apart and opening his windows. He could do with some fresh air and sunlight. You walked over to his bed and pulled his covers off of him. He let out a groan and rolled over to his other side. “Not today, Cass.” You said, keeping your tone light but commanding. You grabbed his hands and pulled him to sitting, patting the side of his face gently. “Come on, big boy. Open those eyes for me. I’m certain you can.” Your hand fell to his neck, angling his face to look at you. He made a noncommittal noise and tried to flop back onto the bed. You gripped his arms in both your hands to prevent that, tutting at him. “Cass, you have to open your eyes. It’s been a month. We need you to start to come back to us.” Your voice dropped as you continued; “I need you to come back to me.”

You sat next to him on the bed, still holding him up. You let go with one hand again and reached up to rub gently under each eye. “You can survive this, you know you can. I’ll help you every step of the way, Cass. I need you to help me though, I need you to just open those eyes for me. Please.” Your hand dropped and you brushed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. “You can do it.” You whispered to him, yours hands moving to hold his own. He gave a deep, shuddering breath and slowly pulled his eyes open.

You almost jumped back in shock when you saw them.

Instead you gripped his hands tighter, giving him the biggest smile you could. “Thats it Cass!” You said brightly, hoping that he wouldn’t realize anything was wrong. “Can you see me?” You asked, wondering if the look of his eyes had changed their function. He gave you a small nod and you smiled again. “Wonderful. Do you think you can stand for me?” You asked, rising from his bed and tugging on his hands. He stood slowly and followed you as you lead him to the kitchen. You sat him at the table and turned to start making food for him. You paused while everything was cooking to send a quick message to Rhys:

He’s awake. He’s moving. I got him to the kitchen and I got him to open his eyes. Rhys…his eyes. Should you send a healer?

You sent the image of what you had seen when Cassian first looked at you. Of the cold, dead, dark black eyes he looked at you with. There was nothing there. The whites of his eyes were almost gone, fractured black swimming around them. You had never seen anything like that, but you didn’t know all the symptoms that came with a rejected mating bond. Rhys’ voice filled your head as he responded:

You did good. Try to keep him up. Make him get up everyday. As for his eyes, I was expecting that to happen. The black comes from the shattered bond, it resembles what’s flowing through his body right now. During his healing his eyes will go back to normal, so do not worry. Please keep doing what you’re doing up there.

You sent him a quick thank you before putting some bacon, eggs, and toast on a plate. You placed the plate in front of him and turned to make yourself one. You figured it would be easier for him to eat if he wasn’t alone. You sat next to him, angling your body to face him. He just stared down at the food, making no move to eat. “Come, Cass.” You said softly, picking up his fork. “You will feel better once you have eaten.” He slowly took the fork from you and scooped up a bite of egg, chewing like it was his first time. You stood to bring him a glass of water, nearly dropping it when he spoke.

“I had expected my next meal to be made by her. Not by you.” His voice was strained, hoarse. You tried not to take offense to his words, there was no emotion behind them. You sat next to him again, handing him the glass. You didn’t know what to say to him. You two sat in silence as he ate his food, and when he was done you helped him back to bed. You washed his hair and his face before tucking him under the covers, setting some water and crackers on his nightstand for if he woke up. He was asleep almost instantly, and for the first time that month you left him to sleep alone.

When you closed the door to his room, the emotion of everything took over you. You slid to the ground against his door, burying your head in your knees as you cried.

***

Another month had passed. You had started by bringing Cassian down to breakfast every morning, and then slowly added in lunch and dinner. He still hadn’t said much, but the black in his eyes was beginning to disappear. Now that you had him eating well again his body was regaining some of its weight back. You were ready to push him into the next step, preparing for some pushback.

“Cassian,” you began slowly, “Let’s train today.”

He stopped chewing but didn’t look at you. “No.” he said gruffly, going back to eating. You nodded, having expected this. “I know you don’t think you are ready to, but it has been over two months since you’ve last trained. Your body needs to feel powerful again, you need to feel powerful again.” He shook his head. “I won’t.”

You sighed and stood up, facing him. “I can’t make you do anything. I’ll be out there when you are ready.” You left him there to eat his breakfast. You didn’t expect him to come right away. You knew it was going to be more of a fight before you got him out here.

So you picked up your sword and began training alone.

***

The next few days were much the same. You’d ask Cassian to come train, he’d decline. You let him off easy the first few days, but you slowly started to push harder. Today you had decided that you wouldn’t give up until he at least went to the training ring with you. He needed to just stand back out there and remember who he was.

“Your training leathers are freshly cleaned for you. Put them on and join me.” You said, finishing your breakfast. As usual, he said no. “I’m not taking no as an answer today, Cassian.” You kept your voice calm, but made sure to have an air of command in it. He glanced at you and repeated, “No.” You shrugged and stood up. “I told you. I’m not taking no as answer. You’re coming up with me.” You stared at him until he finally looked at you. His eyes were still mostly black, but the improvement was there.

“No.” He said again, not dropping his gaze. You shook your head, holding onto the chair in front of you. “At least walk up there with me. You need to get out of this house. You need to feel the breeze again. You need to remember who you are.” You were almost begging. Your eyes locked on each other for some time, your heart beating rapidly.

“No.” He said again and turned back to his food. You let out a sigh of exasperation and threw your hands up in the air. “I can’t help you if you won’t even try.” You shot out, your words a bit harsh. “I’ve been doing everything for you, Cassian, and the least you could do is walk outside.” He stiffened at your words before standing slowly.

“I said. No.” He spoke again, glaring down at you. You kept your spine straight and leaned forward to whisper with deadly seriousness, “I said. Come.” A heartbeat passed and his fists clenched.

“You’re not in charge of me.” He spat.

“I’m not trying to be ‘in charge’ of you. I’m trying to help you.” You were trying very hard to stay calm.

“I don’t want your help.” Cassian sneered, looking you up and down.

“Tough shit, Cass. I’m not going to give up on you.” You responded, eyes fierce.

He scoffed. “Why does it matter to you? I didn’t ask for you to get me that day. You should have left me there.”

Your vision grew blurry at realizing what he meant. “I would’ve never left you. I love you. I care about you. Everyone does. You’re our family Cassian.”

You didn’t miss the way he rolled his eyes. “I dont care how you feel. All I cared about was her. And she left me. I don’t want to be around anyone, especially not you.”

You opened and closed your mouth, unsure what to say. You knew he was hurting and that it was common for hurt people to hurt people, thought that didn’t take the sting of his words away. You looked at him for a moment before turning and leaving, heading up to the training ring. At least you knew you wouldn’t see him up there.

***

You trained until it was dark, skipping lunch and dinner. You trained until your knuckles were bloody from punching the bags over and over. You trained until you thought your arms were going to fall off. You trained so you didn’t have to think about Cassian. You had no idea what to do with him. You don’t know why Rhys was letting you do this alone. Why no one would come help you. Azriel lives here too, why hasn’t he been around? You were certain he could be more help than you were.

You finally went down to bed, cleaning up and deciding to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Cassian was going through one of the darkest periods of his life, and you were here to help him. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, so why act surprised when it’s hard? Tomorrow you would try a new plan. You fell asleep with a small smile, having realized that an emotion had finally showed up in Cass. Until this morning he had been a void, a shell. Today, he had gotten angry. It was a small victory.

***

The next day, Cassian was already eating when you arrived. He looked up at you and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced to your bandaged hands. You grabbed some food, needing all your strength for what you were about to do. Neither of you said anything while you ate, as the meals typically went. When you were done you stood and washed your plate before turning to face Cassian.

“Get up. Wash your dish, and let’s go.” You said, crossing your arms. He looked sharply up at you, saying nothing. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m telling you. Get off your lazy ass and do something with your sorry existence.” His ears reddened and he stood up quickly.

“What did you say to me?” He asked, his voice dangerously cold. You weren’t going to let him scare you, not today.

“I said, let’s go. I get it. Your heart has been broken. Boo fucking whoo Cass, that doesn’t mean you throw your life away.” You stood strong in front of him, not letting the hate in his eyes affect you. The eyes that were slightly less black than the day before.

“You have no idea what it is like. You do not get to stand there and demand I do what you say. There is no life for me, not now.” He said, taking a step closer to you. That intimidation would not work on you, not today.

“Yea, I don’t know what it’s like. But do you really believe your life is over? If that’s what you think, what are you doing here? Why did you even get out of bed?” You raised your hands in front of you, gesturing to the kitchen. Cassian took a step closer, towering over you.

“You. Don’t. Understand.” He grunted out, leaning down to your height. You rolled your eyes.

That was your mistake.

In a split second Cassian had grabbed you by the arm and was dragging you through the house. He brought you to one of the closest balconies and shoved you against it so half your body was hanging over the edge, your arm tucked behind your back. He was pressed up behind you, mouth by your ear. “Look down.” He whispered, using his other hand to tilt your head down, down to see the ground way below. “That’s quite a drop. I could toss you over this without a second thought. No one would hear your scream, no one would come and rescue you. Push me again, and I won’t hesitate to do it.” He spat out, pushing your body so hard into the balcony you couldn’t help the cry of pain you gave.

Then he was gone.

Your whole body was shaking as you stepped away from the edge of the mountain, not stopping until your back hit a wall behind you. You couldn’t do this. Cassian couldn’t be saved. Cassian was dead. Whoever that was, you didn’t know him. You felt the tears come hot and fast, wrapping your arms around yourself. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t do this.

***

You called for Rhys. You called for Feyre. You even tried to find the shadow Azriel usually leaves, hoping to contact him. No one responded. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know why they had abandoned you up here with a male who clearly had no issues killing you. Was this some part of their messed up plan? See how far Cassian would go before he snapped? Would they be able to save you in time?

You cried hard that night. You cried for yourself, for the fear of your safety. You cried for who Cassian used to be, and you cried for the being he was now. You cried until you couldn’t cry anymore, and then you cried so hard you threw up. You didn’t sleep at all, the morning coming too fast. You debated hiding in your room to avoid him, before realizing that’s exactly what he wanted. You knew deep down that Cassian wouldn’t hurt you. You could only hope that was true for the monster he currently was. You took a deep breath and got ready, trying to hide the shadows under your eyes and the tear tracks on your skin.

You weren’t going to give up on him. Not when it seemed like everyone else had.

***

You didn’t talk to Cassian at breakfast. You ate quietly and when you were done you simply announced you were going to train and left. You didn’t even look at him.

You trained for the morning, coming back at lunch. Again, you didn’t speak or look at him. When you were finished you announced you were going to read, and he could find you if he needed anything.

Dinner went much the same, except you could feel his eyes on you now. You refused to look at him, not caring about which expression he wore. When you finished you bid him goodnight and went to bed. This started your next plan for him.

***

The following weeks you acted in the same way. Not looking or speaking to him until your meal was over, and only then speaking to let him know where you would be. If showing you cared didn’t work, and trying to demand didn’t work, then you would act indifferent. He could figure it out on his own.

You were beginning to doubt your plan, sitting in the middle of the training ring. You were drawing circles in the sand, having no desire to train today. You were tired of training alone. You were tired of being alone. You were just tired. Your eyes started to droop and you wondered if you should just take a nap right there. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing was working to get Cassian up here. You laid down in the sand and let your eyes close. You felt the warm sun on your skin, breathing deep. You almost felt at peace for the first time since finding Cass in this very spot. You wished you hadn’t been the first one to get to him. You wished Azriel or Rhys had beat you up here, had taken the role of bringing him back to life.

You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice Cassian enter the ring. You didn’t see the way his eyes looked over you. You didn’t see the small smile on his face as he took you in, your relaxed expression, your hair falling out of its braid behind you, the way your fingers trailed through the sand. You didn’t notice him come lay beside you, closing his eyes as well. You had no idea he was there as a calmness settled over the two of you, sleep welcoming you with wide arms.

***

Your throat was burning when you woke up. You groaned and stretched your muscles. Sleeping under the sun in the sand was probably not your best idea. You had no idea how long you were out. You opened your eyes and slowly sat up. You knew you should go back inside, down to lunch to see if Cassian-

Cassian. Cassian who was laying in the sand next to you. Cassian who was asleep in the sand next to you. Cassian who must have come up, seen you, and decided to stay. Cassian, who looked so beautiful with his hair splayed behind him, the sun shining off his face. He reminded you of the old him, the loving, funny, kind Cassian.

You don’t know how long you sat there and looked at him. A selfish part of you never wanted this moment to end. You weren’t ready to go back to the cruel, sad Cass of the past few months. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached over and brushed some hair out of his face, feeling his soft skin under your fingertips.

His eyes shot open and before you could react he had you pinned under him, a blade against your throat. You couldn’t breathe or move, your eyes wide and panicked as you looked up at him. He pressed the blade in harder, looking ready to kill you. You wiggled an arm free and put your hand over his on the blade, slowly lifting it up. You watched as his expression calmed and then horror took over his face. He jumped away from you, hands up. “No, no I didn’t mean- I didn’t know- I didn’t.” He stuttered, his hands having a slight shake to them. You slowly crawled over to where he was sitting and pulled his hands down into your own.

“It’s okay, Cassian.” You said, squeezing his hands. He looked down at your locked hands, unmoving. “I’m okay. You’re okay.” You whispered soothingly, trying to coax him out of his own head. “I’m here. I’m here and you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You continued, holding his hands tight. You felt the first tear hit your hand before you heard his gasping breaths.

Cassian was crying.

You pulled him into your chest and wrapped your arms around him as best you could. You let him cry for what felt like hours. He needed to get all that emotion out, all that pain from today and the past months. You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair, whispering that he was okay and that you loved him. That he was your best friend and you’d do anything for him. That you wouldn’t hold the way he’s been acting against him, no one you knew had been in his spot before. You held him until his breathing began to even out, until his eyes ran dry. You held him until he moved first, pulling away to look at you. You felt your own tears coming as you took him in, as you looked at his eyes. His eyes that were almost entirely back to normal, with just a few bits of black on the edges. You broke into a smile and pulled him back into you, holding him tight. “It’s good to have you back, Cass.” You whispered as his arms wrapped around you too.

***

“Wake up, sunshine!” A voice bellowed through your room, your curtains being thrown open. You blinked in surprise as your eyes focused in on Cassian, who was dressed for training. “We’ve got lots of work to do.” He said, crossing his arms and looking at you still in bed. “Up! Up!” He clapped, coming over and pulling your blankets off of you. You squealed and tried to grab them before he had fully exposed you and the very thin nightgown you were wearing. Unfortunately he was quicker than you. You watched as his eyes dragged over your body, a strange expression on his face. You couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach at his gaze.

The moment was broken when he gave a laugh and told you to put something “training appropriate” on before leaving your room.

***

For two months you and Cassian trained harder than you ever had before. He pushed you to your limits and then some, not happy until you almost collapsed at the end of each session. You were glad to do it as you watched the last bits of black fade from his eyes.

It had been half a year since Nesta had rejected the bond. You and Cassian hadn’t seen anyone else since then. You knew you had to talk to him about seeing the others soon, and the likeliness of him seeing Nesta too.

You didn’t want to ruin your happy little bubble quite yet, though.

You smiled as Cassian talked over dinner, explaining the new techniques he was ready to teach you. You loved how excited he got, the way his eyes would light up. Your gaze fell to his mouth as he talked, staring at his lips, wondering how they’d feel against your skin-

No. You had been pushing your feelings for Cassian down for 200 years now, trying to pretend they didn’t exist. When he first saw Nesta you didn’t miss the slight change in him and you knew he would never be yours. Your selfish mind pointed out how Nesta had rejected him, how he was open for the taking, how he could be yours. But no. Cass had a long way to go on his healing journey, and the last thing he needed was you lusting after him.

***

It had been a year. A year since Nesta rejected that bond. Over the past six months you and Cassian had gotten closer and closer. Rhysand had started visiting, Azriel too. Feyre had stayed away at first, wanting to be sure Cassian would be okay seeing her. Seeing the sister of his would-be mate. You were surprised at the way he brushed her concerns off, wrapping her in the biggest hug when she finally came. He told her that she wasn’t her sister, and he would never hold anything Nesta did against her. You felt your heart swell with pride, so different from the Cassian of a few months before.

You had convinced him to leave the House of Wind on a few occasions, flying down to walk the streets of Velaris. You purchased two small chocolate cakes in secret the last time you went, proudly showing them to him when you got back home.

Home. Home was with Cassian now. You loved the life you had created for him, you loved seeing him so full of joy and hope. You would sometimes remember those first dreadful months, the way he looked and the way he acted. That perfect bubble you had created around the two of you was going to end soon. Rhysand had brought up the idea of having a party at the House, a party to welcome Cassian back.

A party that would include Nesta.

You had shot that idea down the second it came out of Rhys’ mouth, eyes burning red. “What are you thinking? Inviting her?” Cassian had laid a soothing hand on your arm, making you look at him. He wore a calm and peaceful expression on his face, and his words shocked you.

“Let her come. I can’t avoid her forever.” He rose a hand to cup your face. “Take it as the last step of my recovery. I’ll have my little savior by my side the whole time.” Heat rose through you at his touch and his words. His little savior, he had taken to calling you. Cassian knew it made you blush, and a part of him enjoyed the pink coloring your cheeks a little too much. You simply nodded, wanting to sink into his hand, into his skin. Sadly he had already pulled away and looked back at Rhys. You gave a small shake of your head, clearing your thoughts and looked to Rhys as well.

You did not enjoy the knowing smirk on his face.

“A party then! We will have it a week from today.” He gave Cassian a broad smile and clapped him on the back. “It’ll be good to have you back, brother.”

***

You felt as though your heart was going to explode. Anxiety coursed through your body, leaving your hands shaking as you tried to button up your dress. You gave a shout of frustration, slamming your hands down on the vanity in front of you. You looked up at your reflection and wished you could put on a brave face.

You were scared. You were scared of Cassian seeing Nesta. You were scared all your hard work this past year was going to be for nothing. You were scared for how she would react. You were scared to see her.

You ducked your head and stared at your perfectly manicured fingers digging into the table below them. You wanted to rip off each nail and throw them out the window. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t care how calm Cassian was about this whole situation. This was wrong. You dug your nails harder into the vanity, trying to force the negative thoughts away. You were about to give up and tell Cassian you couldn’t go, maybe you could be sick, when you heard a knock on your door. You straightened up and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. No, you couldn’t abandon him. Not tonight. He needed you to be strong by his side.

You walked over and opened the door to reveal Cassian. You pushed the door open wider to allow him to come in, closing it behind him. You looked him over, heat coursing through your body as you took him in. He looked delicious. He had on dark dress pants and a button down, a suit jacket thrown over his arm. You had never seen him in anything like this before and it left you embarrassingly speechless. You quickly moved your eyes to his face, trying to hide the way you had been looking at him. The embarrassment disappeared once you saw the way he was looking over you, the way his eyes lingered on your half buttoned dress, his pupils blown.

You could eat him.

Feeling a little daring, you turned your back to him and pushed your hair over your shoulder. “Do you think you could help me? I can’t seem to get it the rest of the way.” You asked, partly to actually get his help, and partly to feel his touch on your skin. Cassian nodded and stepped closer to start buttoning your dress. Goosebumps spread over your skin at his touch, your body betraying your thoughts. You looked up to the mirror in front of you, heart beating at the sight of him behind you. All too quickly the buttons were all done up, and you watched in the mirror as he hands rested at the base of your neck for a moment. You watched as his head lowered and his lips connected to your bare shoulder. It took everything in you to not throw your head back onto him and close your eyes.

Cassian cleared his throat and stepped away, gazing at the two of you in the mirror. “You look…beautiful.” He said, his words thick. You couldn’t help but agree with him as you looked at the navy blue velvet draped over your body. The high neckline wrapped around your throat like a collar, leaving your shoulders and arms bare as it connected to the tight material over your chest and stomach. At your waist it flowed almost dreamlike to the ground, one long slit going up to your hip to show your leg. You watched Cassians eyes in the mirror trail over you, the room feeling a million degrees.

You turned suddenly, pulling the jacket out of Cassians hands. “Come on,” you said, helping him into it, “Let’s get to your party.”

***

You had already found a glass of wine. No, you had found several glasses of wine. You tipped them back one after the other until that pleasant fuzzy feeling filled your body. You grabbed one more and went to find Cassian with Rhys and Azriel, wanting to make sure he was doing okay. He smiled as you joined their little group, an arm coming to wrap around your waist. You decided to act like this was completely normal, leaning into his touch and sipping your wine. You didn’t miss the look that shot between Rhys and Azriel, glaring at them in response. “Whatever keeps him comfortable.” You shot to Rhysands mind, a small nod of confirmation coming from him before he turned to Cassian.

“Are you ready?” He asked, arms out as if to say “We will go when you do.” Cassian plucked the wine glass out of your hands and downed the rest of it, laughing at your cry of disapproval.

“I’m ready.” He said, smiling down at your and tightening his grip on your waist. “Stay with me?” He asked, eyes searching yours. You smiled back at him and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”

***

There she was. Nesta Archeron. As deadly beautiful as always, she was standing in front of you and her rejected mate. You felt Cassians fingers dig into your hip, but he placed a small smile on his face and tipped his head to her. “Nesta. You look well.” He spoke politely, as if they had only ever been casual acquaintances. She looked over the two of you, not missing his arm around your waist.

“As do you.” She responded, just as politely. “You seem…happy.” She gestured to the two of you and you felt your body stiffen, preparing for the undoubtably nasty comment she was going to follow up with. “I am glad.”

You couldn’t hide the shock on your face at not only her words, but also the kind tone she said them in. It seemed Cassian wasn’t the only one who had changed this past year. He smiled at her and looked down at you.

“Yea, I suppose I am.” He said, and there was no hiding the red that colored your cheeks. What was going on? was all you could think, this situation playing out completely different than you thought it would. You felt a hand on your arm and turned to look at Nesta.

“You have always been what he needed.” She said quietly, a shine in her eyes. You nodded at her, still confused on what was happening. She looked up to Cass once more, saying; “Have a good night, Cassian. Enjoy your party.”

And then she was gone.

You looked at Cassian with wide eyes, gauging how he was feeling. You were surprised at his relaxed smile as his hand moved from your waist to grab you hand. “Come with me.” He whispered, pulling you behind him. You felt like you were running after him until he stopped and pulled you out onto a balcony. Onto the balcony. The one he had threatened you on when he was in the deepest part of his anger.

You turned to face him, hands on your hips. “What are you doing?” You asked, frustrated at the way everyone was acting. “Something I should’ve done two hundred years ago.” He replied, coming close to you.

Before you had a chance to respond, his lips were on yours.

Your heart stopped as one arm wrapped back around your waist, the other threading through your hair. You melted into his touch, kissing him back the way you had dreamed of doing for so long. His hand in your hair tilted your head back, allowing him more access to you. You couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you as his tongue slid into your mouth, and you felt on fire when you heard his responding growl of satisfaction.

This was better than anything you had ever dreamed.

He gently moved you until you felt the railing of the balcony against your back. In a second Cassian had flipped you forward, facing out over Velaris just as you had all those months ago. However this time, you felt safe.

Cassian started trailing kisses on your shoulder, undoing the top buttons on your dress so he could kiss up your neck. His hand splashed across your stomach, keeping you tight to him. You let out a pleasured breath at his actions, dipping your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.” He growled into your ear, his other hand coming to cup your breast. A shiver ran through your body at his touch, at his words. “Nesta knew it.” He placed another kiss on your neck. “The day she rejected the mating bond, she told me she wouldn’t allow me to chain myself to her, not when my heart belonged to another.” He sucked the skin under your ear lightly, a gasp coming from you. “I was confused at first. I didn’t know what she was talking about.” Another kiss. “And then it was you who came to me that day. And I was so angry.” A sharp bite, your hands grabbing onto the railing in front of you as pleasure shot through your spine. “I was angry that she had seen what I hadn’t. I was angry that you came to save me. I was angry that my heart had betrayed me, had betrayed my mate.” Another bite, the hand on your stomach sliding to find that slit in your dress. “When I dragged you out here that day and pressed you to this balcony just like I am now, I was so full of rage. You were perfect. I gave you chance after chance to give up on me, and you wouldn’t.” Another bruising kiss on your neck, his hand on your hip sliding under the fabric of your dress. “I heard your cries that night, the pleading to Rhys. I begged him to not send anyone. That I would never hurt you, I would never act like that again. I realized the mistake I was making.” His hand found the edge of your underwear, tracing it lightly. You felt his smile against your skin at the small moan of need you gave him, pressing another kiss to your skin. “These past months training with you, i’ve wanted to pin you down beneath me and have my way with you every day.” You arched back into him at his words, begging his hand to slide to where you needed it. “Today, I decided I was done hiding my feelings. I was going to be honest with you.”

His hand came up to angle your head to face him. “I’m in love with you, my little savior. I always have been, from the day I found you fighting for your life on the edges of Court. It’s always been you.” Cassian stared at you, willing you to say something back. You rose on your toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you saved me on the edges of Court.” You whispered against his skin. He gave a small laugh, leaning down to kiss you again. “It seems we have wasted quite some time, then.” He said, before lust took over his eyes.

He leaned you back against the balcony, the hand under your skirt finally sliding to where you needed him. You cried out at his touch, his lips hot against your neck. “Now, i’m going to fuck you on this balcony so all of Velaris knows who you belong to.”

***

Thank you for your patience on this story!!! Please let me know how you feel about it, I kept rewriting it. I appreciate all the feedback so much <3

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #rejected

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 23)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,470

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

“So…” Feyre trails off and your gaze slides to hers in the mirror from where you’re brushing on blush. Your first date with Azriel is tonight and you haven't been able to focus on anything all day. “You and Azriel?”

“Yeah,” you respond softly, trying to fight the smile that’s tugging at your lips. She already knows the news since she’d come back home this morning with Rhys in tow, trying to get you to come out for breakfast with them. When they saw Azriel padding out of your room shirtless, her jaw almost hit the floor. She was sputtering like a child and her boyfriend helped her get her bearings, violet eyes glittering as he grinned at Azriel. You had shrugged at each other as Rhysand guided Feyre back out the door with a cheerful goodbye. “Azriel and I.” Her brown brows are still furrowed and you don’t like that look, swiveling around in the mirror to face her. “Is it that crazy of a concept? I feel like this kind of thing happens all of the time.”

“In movies,” Cassian pipes up, exclaiming. He’s sitting on your bed next to your best friend, having invited himself over an hour ago.

You eye him. “What are you doing here again, Cass? Shouldn’t you be hyping Az up or something?”

“Nah, he has Rhys for that,” he winks over at Feyre who only raises her eyebrows in response. “I’m here because I’m seeing you off tonight.”

“You’re not my dad,” you scoff, fishing in your makeup bag for your mascara.

“But I’d let you call me that anytime, (Y/N),” he jokes and you shake your head fondly at him. 

“I’m sure Azriel is going to love to hear that you’ve been flirting again.” 

Cassian hugs one of your pillows to his chest, flipping through a book that you left on the table beside your bed. You wonder if he’ll find the page Azriel bookmarked for you when he’d been flipping through it, saying he’d slipped in a cheeky note for you to find along with the naughty  passage. “He knows what I’m about. And if he feels threatened, that’s on him. I can just remind him of all of the times he used to—” The ringing of his phone cuts off his sentence and he slides it from his pocket, checking the caller before answering, murmuring a quiet hello down the line.

He frowns and you cock your head, watching intently. It’s not a face you think you’ve ever seen Cassian do seriously, and the way that his body tenses, you wonder who could be on the other line. 

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” he says finally, hanging up the phone and springing up from your bed. He tosses the pillow back to the head of the bed and strides towards the door, a concerning pull to his eyebrows that has Feyre calling out to him as he makes for the door.

“Everything okay, Cassian?” 

“I, uh—yeah, everything’s fine. I have to go,” he says but his mind is already in another place. “See you later.”

You and Feyre share a look in the mirror.

“So much for seeing me off.” 

She grins at you, sliding off of your bed to join you in front of the mirror. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to do that.”

“Thanks,” you laugh, capping the mascara and putting it away. Leaning back a little, you admire your makeup in the mirror. “So, how are you and Rhys doing?” 

You feel like you haven’t spent much time with Feyre lately, with her busy with her boyfriend and you busy with yours. Your boyfriend, the words have you giddy. You and Azriel are officially a couple now and everything feels right. There are no more late nights spent trying to get him to shut his music off or glaring at him when his eyes wander your way. Now, your nights are spent talking and kissing and touching. Lots and lots of touching.

Your heart stutters happily in your chest. 

Feyre sighs dreamily. “He’s so great. I’m really glad we decided to move here this year, (Y/N).” 

“Me too,” you grin stupidly at her and the both of you break out in giggles. “Fey, will you help me pick out some jewelry?”

Azriel told you to dress casually, something with jeans because somehow he convinced you to get back on that death-trap he holds so dear to his heart. It’s a sunny afternoon out, no clouds in sight, and it eases you slightly that you won’t have to ride it in the rain again, no matter how much you enjoyed being pressed up against him.

Now that you’re Azriel’s girlfriend, you’re free to press up against him whenever you want. 

Naked, too.

“Here,” she says, hooking a necklace around your neck. She clasps it for you and you can’t help but stare at the blue gem that sits at the base of your neck, glittering in the light. It looks good, you think. 

“Is it weird to be nervous?” you ask, playing with the pendent. “We’ve already had sex but I’m still feel all jittery.”

“Being nervous is completely normal,” Feyre answers, patting you on the shoulder. “You have to promise to tell me all about it when you get home.”

“I will,” you shoo her playfully, “I promise.” 

You and Feyre chat lightly as you wait and it helps ease your nerves a little. She tells you about how excited she is about Halloween and asks if you think the both of you could convince the three boys next door to do a group costume with you. Cassian’s already been bragging about the insane pre-game party he throws every year before a night out at the bars, and you know you can easily get him on board. 

A knock at the door sends your nerves skyrocketing again. You smooth down your shirt as Feyre rounds the corner to open the door, crossing her arms over her chest like a stern mother meeting her daughter's boyfriend for the first time.

She squeals when the door swings open to Rhysand on the other side. He laughs, sweeping her into his arms and guiding her backwards in his hug. 

Your breath leaves your body at the sight of Azriel. He looks effortlessly handsome, his hair fingered through with a little gel even though he knows it’s going to be messed up from his helmet. His golden eyes gleam, crinkling at the corners with a smile when he catches your gaze.

He’s dressed in a simple black t-shirt but wears his leather jacket over it, the same one he had wrapped around your shoulders that night you spent in the rain. It’s pulled tight across his shoulders but he doesn’t seem to mind because the worn leather is comfortable.

Of course, he has his dark jeans on, and you catch his riding gloves peeking out of his pocket. 

You move to him like a moth to a flame, eagerly accepting the kiss he bends down to give you.

“You look amazing,” he breathes against your lips, never able to part from you. Never wanting to part from you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome,” you compliment, holding him close by the flaps of his jacket. 

“Ready to go?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, turning to say goodbye to Feyre and Rhys, who has his arms wrapped around her as they watch the two of you, grinning like fools.

“Where’s Cassian?” Rhysand asks, looking around the room. “I figured he’d be all up in Azriel’s business right now, playing the part.”

Feyre shrugs, answering. “We don’t know. He got a phone call and left right after.” Azriel and Rhys share a look that you can’t make out before Feyre’s continuing, sternly, “Don’t keep her out too late.” She points a finger at Azriel. He looks like he’s trying his best to stop himself from rolling his eyes and you stifle your laugh in the crook of your arm.

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, “See ya, Rhysie. Don’t have sex too loud tonight. Or on the couch.” 

Rhysand only smirks in response. “Why? Is it your turn?” 

Feyre smacks his chest and you drag Azriel out of the apartment before she can go at her boyfriend for that joke. You’ve all heard worse before from Cassian, so the quip rolls off of your shoulders easily…aaaand now you’re thinking about fucking Azriel on the couch.

“If we fuck on any couch, it’s going to be yours,” you comment as you step onto the elevator with him. Their couch is both bigger and comfier. You wouldn’t let Azriel suffer on your cheap, navy couch that you and Feyre got for a bargain.

“Fantasizing about fucking me on my couch, princess?” Azriel hums, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. The elevator feels almost stifling with the heat between you two, his eyes glittering with interest. “We can definitely make that fantasy come true. Do you have any others I should know about?” 

“No,” you answer all too quickly, and you try not to think too hard about the intrigue that flares in his gold eyes. “How about you?” you aim the question back at Azriel as the elevator comes to a stop on the first floor, doors creaking open slowly.

You can feel his gaze on your face as he studies you, and he doesn’t answer until you’ve left the building, Azriel holding the door open for you. “No,” he answers, but you know it’s a lie. 

It sparks interest in you, and when you cut him a glance from the corner of your eye, he’s smirking. 

Two can play at this game, apparently. 

Azriel shrugs out of his jacket and you’re taken back to the night when he’d given you a ride home in the storm as he helps you into it, admiring you in the loved leather before he tugs you closer. The smell of him is intoxicating to your senses and you don’t even care that the soon to be setting sun is warmer than usual because being encompassed in his jacket makes your heart flutter. 

You’re pressed all up against his front and Azriel can’t help himself but to grin along with you, dipping his head down for one more kiss. He chuckles as your lips chase his, pressing up into him on your tiptoes to follow. Azriel plucks one of the helmets strapped to the back of his motorcycle and helps you into it with the promises of more kisses to follow throughout the night.

You have to squeeze your thighs together when he shoves his own helmet over that dark hair of his. He looks hot as fuck standing there with his tattoos on display, peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt and creeping up his neck. Said t-shirt clings tightly to his chest as if he’s worn it because he knows what it does to you, and you follow the lines down his long body to his tight waist.

“Earth to princess,” Azriel calls, rapping on your helmet with his knuckles. You startle from your ogling, glaring up at him. The crinkles around his eyes and the shaking of his shoulders are clear signs of his amusement, and you can’t resist that blush that stains your cheeks. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you answer, but it’s a bit muffled from the helmet. Azriel helps you on his bike and when you’re settled behind him, he takes your hands and pulls them tight around his waist. 

“Hold on tight,” Azriel reminds you and your heart picks up its pace at both the proximity of your boyfriend and the fact that you’ve somehow allowed him to talk you into getting on the damned thing again. You tighten your thighs around his waist, wiggling even closer to him to make sure you’ve got a firm hold, and he groans like a man shot. “You keep grinding up against me like that, princess, and we’re going to go right back upstairs to that couch.” 

That doesn’t sound so bad, you think. You don’t have to endure a nerve-wracking ride on the motorcycle where all you’ll be able to think about is how much your body might slide if you fall and you’d get to see Azriel’s pretty dick.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Azriel takes off without another warning. You squeak softly, squeezing your eyes shut tight as he pulls away from the building. 

You’re pretty sure he can feel the pounding of your heart against his back because at the first stop sign his hands come down to trace the length of your thighs, reassuring you with his touch. It helps settle you some, enough to peek your eyes open and watch the houses pass you by.

At some point in the ride, you actually find yourself enjoying it, muscles relaxing but your body still pressed in tightly to Azriel. You’re enjoying the feeling of the wind on your skin, pulling at your clothes and the feeling of Azriel’s warmth seeping through your front. You can understand how he feels so at ease like this, like a bat swooping through the night sky.

You arrive a few towns over where Azriel parks against a curb. It’s an artsy looking town, murals covering the sides of brick buildings, colorful storefronts calling to you left and right. The streets are bright from the streetlights and filled with laughter and a positive aura that stirs excitement in you, even more so when Azriel takes your hand.

“You okay?” He asks, a touch of concern flushing through those golden eyes. “The ride wasn’t too rough, was it?” 

You shake your head, smirking up at him. “I’ve had rougher.” 

He snorts, tugging you into him for a hug because your body pressed all hot up against his wasn’t enough. Azriel walks you down a block and down a pair of stairs. The walls are filled with graffiti and you look around in wonder while Azriel checks in with the young looking boy behind the counter. 

He finds you, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed as you try and discern the oddly shaped letters painted on the wall before you. You have no idea what the word is supposed to say, it’s bright red coloring stark against the deep teal wall it’s painted on.

“Here you go.” Azriel hands you coveralls and you scrunch your face in confusion. He has his own pair, a deep navy, and in his free hand he holds two respirators. 

“What’s all this for?” you ask, examining the beige jumpsuit he’s handed you. It’s clean and fresh, so you won’t complain.

“We’re spray painting,” Azriel answers almost sheepishly. At his tentative tone you look up, and you nearly grin. His cheeks are filled with warmth and you think this is the closest you’ve ever seen him to bashful. 

“We are?” you ask, eager all of a sudden. You know it’s something Azriel said that he, Rhysand, and Cassian have fooled around with, and you’ve always enjoyed seeing the many tags and artwork created on buildings and trains. You even researched Bansky for one of your high school papers, finding his reasoning behind his works vastly intriguing, but you’ve never tried the medium yourself. “This is going to be fun!”

Azriel’s shoulders droop in relief. He hadn’t been one hundred percent confident in this choice for a date, but he thought dinner at a restaurant wouldn’t be enough to impress you and that going to see a movie was much too cliche.

He smiles softly, reveling in the excitement in your eyes. “I think so too.” 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Where do you get your inspiration from?” you ask Azriel, voice sounding muffled through the mask as you watch him paint a long, black line down the wall. The fan’s in the room are loud so you have to shout. You’d seemed nervous when you stepped into the room, cans of spray paint littered around the floor, the walls filled with intimidating artwork that you hardly had the heart to paint over, but now you’re most definitely enjoying yourself.

Azriel had been a reassurance from the get-go, explaining that everyone who booked time here comes in knowing that whatever they paint is going to be gone when the next guests arrive, so there’s no pressure to put on yourself, only to have fun.

And it is fun, getting a feeling for the can in your hand, how hard to press, how far to hold the can from the wall. Azriel showed you some techniques, guiding your hands in different motions to create perfect circles, to get the paint drips you were eyeing from someone else’s work. The only complaint you have about this date is that the masks make it difficult to kiss Azriel, who you’ve wanted to jump since he’d pressed his body flush against yours when showing you how to paint funky letters, his other hand a solid weight on your hip. 

You’ve been in awe of him all night, sneaking looks over your shoulder at what he was painting; a skeleton stallion with a skeleton riding it, sword raised as if leading an army of the dead into war. He’s skilled in many mediums and your heart aches as you wonder how it’s possible that he hasn’t been able to receive an apprenticeship yet.

Something stings in your chest. The way that Azriel draws, paints, tattoos…there’s a confidence there that you’re envious of. Every spray he makes seems so sure, so well laid it’s like he can see the end result as he’s working. You yearn to feel like that.

“What do you mean?” he asks, eyes flicking to yours for a moment before returning to his work, letting you know that you have his full attention. You’re in the midst of painting the skeleton horse's eyes a bright neon green, whispers of black shadows swimming from its nostrils.

You sigh, abandoning your can of paint and wiping the remnants of the pigment on your coveralls. “All this time I’ve known that I want to be in art, that I want to do something with it, but everytime I make something, it never feels good enough. Like I’m not as proud of it as I should be. I don’t have a style like you or Feyre do, and, if I do, I haven’t noticed it yet.”

Azriel fully stops what he’s doing and turns to you. His hand comes up to caress your jaw, tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes are soft with concern and there’s a wrinkle between his brow that makes you want to reach up and smooth it out, suddenly embarrassed that you’ve brought this up during your perfectly good date.

“Is that how you feel?” he asks, and you shrug shyly. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all, but it’s been something that eats at you, day by day. “It sounds like you’re missing a muse, princess.” 

You frown. “A what?” 

“A muse,” Azriel repeats simply. “Something that inspires you.” 

Something that inspires you. You toss the words around in your head, thinking. Surely, you find things inspiring. You wrack your brain trying to come up with something, something that keeps you captivated, gives you the urge to put your pencils to your paper and create something beautiful…but there’s nothing. 

“So, you’re saying you inspire yourself?” you tease, thinking back to his exhibition. You tease, because if you don’t laugh, you might cry. You can see the glint of amusement in his eyes, and you continue your soft jab. “How very narcissistic of you, Az.” 

Azriel rolls his eyes and before you can joke further, he’s lifting his can of spray paint and marking you with a big heart across the entire front of your coveralls. Your mouth drops open in shock but his smirk makes the feeling roll right between your thighs. 

“I believe that muses have the ability to change,” he answers your earlier question. He’s staring down at you intently, and maybe he’s waiting for you to pick up a can and retaliate. Or maybe he’s thinking exactly what you’re thinking: trying to find someplace to tear each other's clothes off. 

“Oh, yeah?” you ask defiantly. You want to cross your arms over your chest but you don’t want to ruin his work. It feels like you’ve been branded by him, claimed by his artistic talent, and something flares within you at the very idea. “What’s your muse now?” 

Azriel doesn’t answer but he doesn’t need to. The way he seems to be devouring you with his eyes tells you all you need to know about who his current muse is.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

[readychilledwine]

Hi again!!! It’s your anon who just sent that thing about reader ending up with Eris after Cassian cheated! Imagine them having to share custody of their kid 😂

Co Parents

Part two of my angsty Cassian cheating drabble:

Cassian shifted uncomfortably as his daughter hugged Eris goodbye. She had her little hands gripped tight into his tunic and face buried in his neck.

"It's only two weeks, little flame," he whispered soothingly to her. "Just to give mommy and I time to adjust to the new babe. Then you get to come home and be with him and us."

She nodded, putting on a brave face. "I love you."

Eris wiped tears from her chubby cheeks, "I love you too, baby girl."

It shouldn't have bothered Cassian. Eris had raised her. He had been there when she was born, when she took her first steps, ate her first real meal. Eris had stepped up while Cassian stepped away, giving you your space. Eris was the male your daughter called daddy. The one she ran to when she had nightmares.

And it killed Cassian. It killed him that you had moved on. That you were now heavily pregnant with his child and heir of the Autumn Court. It killed him that his daughter didn't live in his home. It killed him that she was growing up with different traditions.

His choice to sleep with Nesta had left him with a hole in his heart. One Nesta had tried to fill but realized slowly she couldn't. They still fucked like rabbits, but the romance wasn't there. It had become solely physical and based on familiarity.

Cassian nodded. "Anything else?"

Eris picked your daughter up as she threw herself in his arms again and walked her to Cassian. "You promised you wouldn't cry this time, little love," Eris handed her to Cassian with a brief look of heart ache and pain. "She has a new bedtime. She gets to stay up until 8 o'clock." Cassian noted the soft break in his voice. "She likes hot cocoa before bed still and a snack."

The Autumn High Lord ran his hand down her long dark curls. "We've been... refusing to go potty when we need to lately. We get too excited about what we're doing and do not want to miss a single second. We haven't had an accident in a few days, but if she starts to dance, she probably has to potty and needs you to let her know you'll wait for her. Because the excitement and fun will still be there when she comes back, right princes?"

She nodded, "Right daddy."

Eris kissed her forehead. "We put her favorite books and stuffie in her bags. She also promised to not do what this time?"

Her head fell back with a loud groan. "I won't annoy Uncle Azzie."

Cassian laughed lightly. "You didn't annoy him, baby girl."

She smiled wickly, turning to Eris with a smirk she had to have learned from him. "See, daddy, Uncle Az loves me."

Eris rolled his eyes with a soft smile. "Be good for dad, okay? Momma and I will see you soon." Eris turned to Cassian. "If you need anything, send a letter through the fire first. Y/n is..." Eris felt his jaw twitched. "Rhys will explain."

Cassian nodded. "I'll take good care of her."

"I'm sure you will, Cassian. I have no doubts. Two weeks, baby."

"Two weeks, daddy." Eris left, leaving Cassian and his daughter standing there as she sniffled softly.

"Can we have cookies?"

Cassian held her closer, adjusting as he began to walk her through Velaris. "Of course, angel. I could never say no to you."

He kissed her temple as she snuggled into him.

Two weeks.

He had two weeks to memorize how much she had already grew.

He had two weeks to kiss her fingers, her little cheeks, her toes.

He had two weeks to feel a little piece of you.

And two weeks was never long enough.

#acotar #acotar x reader #girldad!cassian #girldad!cassian x reader #girldad!erisxreader #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra x you

[itsphoenix0724]

Dancing With Shadows (Azriel x Reader)~Chapter 1

Summary: Living your life with a long-distance relationship has never bothered you before, but when you surprise Az with a plane ticket you finally get to see how it works in person.

Warnings: SMUT, phone sex, mutual masturbation?, toys

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Bad Phoenix for starting another series while still having an incomplete one. I'm sorry (I'm not)

The morning light is just starting to creep through the gap in your curtains as you roll groggily over to the other side of your mattress. The Facetime call crackles over the end of the receiver as the brightness of your phone blares 7:00 am into your still sensitive eyes. You can hear Azriel vaguely fumbling with something over the other end, followed by a curse and the line quickly muting itself. You laugh silently, opening the camera and calling a good morning. It’s around noon across the ocean, and your slow rainy Saturday seems chaotic for Az already.  

“Did I wake you?” He asks, face now lighting up your phone screen. You’re taken aback by his beauty for a second, hazel eyes boring into you through the camera. He’s wearing a tight compression top, and his black hair is slightly tousled and damp with sweat. He must’ve been working out. 

“No not at all. I heard a crash, are you okay?” you ask, voice still crackly with sleep. A delightful red color sweeps the highs of Azirel’s cheekbones. 

“I dropped a weight.” He supplies and you can see his shoulders move with a shrug. He sets you back down, now propping up the phone so you can watch him continue to lift. Your mouth almost waters, but you manage to reign yourself in. 

“I wish you would wait for Rhys or Cas.” You can’t see Azriel’s eyes while he’s reclined on the bench, but you’re sure they’re rolling at the mention of his roommates. You move about your own apartment, getting ready for the day. Changing into a comfy set of pajamas you settle in to read comfortably on your couch. 

You never minded the distance between the two of you.

Maybe that’s because it’s always been like this. You’d met Azriel on a dating app after you and your friend got wine-drunk one night and you switched the location to London. The two of you matched and it’s been the best six months of your life. He’s been kind, caring, and better than every guy you’d ever met in New York City.

Obviously, you want to be able to kiss and hold your boyfriend, hopefully, soon you can accomplish that. You bought Az a plane ticket so he’ll end up here for a week over Valentine’s Day. You just hope he’s able to make it, you did opt for a cancelable flight just in case he can’t get time off work, but he works in cyber security so he should be able to take it with him if needed.

You’ve finished your book, and Azriel is cooking dinner on his end of the line. The phone propped up against something on his counter, Cassian walks into the kitchen, clapping him on the shoulder before noticing you. 

“There she is!” Cas steals the phone focusing on his face as he greets you with a broad smile. “How are you, princess?” Azriel snatches the phone back, letting a jealous stream of curses spew out of his mouth. 

You can see him glaring at Cassian but as your laugh echoes back his eyes soften. 

“I’m good, how are you.” Cassian gives a noncommittal shrug, stealing a piece of something off the cutting board before calling his goodbyes. 

“He needs to learn to mind his business,” Azriel mutters but shines a bright smile when you laugh again. 

“You’re such a baby.” You reply, still trying to fight laughter down at his pouting. 

“I’m not a baby, I just don’t enjoy when Cassian flirts with you.” Az supplies moving about the kitchen. 

You enjoy watching him cook. 

You shamelessly ogle his back when he turns to the stove, loving the way the fabric of his shirt accentuates his broad shoulders.  He moves like smoke. Gracefully gliding around the kitchen, pulling different spices and chopping different ingredients for some kind of stirfry. 

Azriel being so good with a knife probably shouldn’t turn you on so much. 

He has to hang up the phone to eat dinner with his roommates, so you blow him a kiss as he promises to call you back when he can. This leaves you to get ready for the little surprise you have planned for him. 

You shower, styling your hair to perfection and applying some makeup before changing into the midnight blue lingerie set you picked out for him. You tie a barely-there black robe around yourself, make your bed, and light a few candles around the room to hopefully set the mood. A wicked idea flashes across your mind, so you make your way to the bathroom and slip a shoulder out of the robe snapping a picture quickly and sending it to Azriel’s contact. 

“A little surprise to unwrap later ;)” It says that the message has been read at the bottom of the screen. Dots line the bottom of your screen, and you bite your lip as you await his response, heat coiling in the pit of your stomach already. 

“What’re you trying to do to me, Sweetheart? I practically choked on my dinner” comes his response, and the previous heat turns practically boiling. A second text comes through a second later “I’ll be done in five minutes. Don’t you dare even think about touching yourself. Wait nice and pretty for me okay?” You double-check to make sure all your toys are charged, waiting patiently for Azriel’s Facetime call. 

You can practically feel yourself dripping down your thighs in anticipation.  

He calls four minutes later. Setting your phone up on your dresser you answer strutting over to the edge of the bed so he can see all of you. All you can hear is the sound of Az’s breathing and the lock on his door clicking shut. 

“Take it off,” he practically growls and you play with the tie before you pull it apart and let the black silk pool around you on the bed. “You look absolutely fucking beautiful.” His pupils blow wide as he looks at you feeling like a goddess with his attention. 

“Do you like it?” You tease, fluttering your eyelashes and sending him a sugar-sweet smile. 

“That’s a ridiculous fucking question, I want to devour you.” His voice is like midnight water, ripples feel like they’re caressing down your spine as you shiver. Even now, even over the phone, it thrums through your chest like guitar strings, reverberating and ricocheting around your rapidly beating heart. 

“Tell me what you want me to do Az,” you gasp out, waiting for him to give you some direction, eager to be obedient. Az takes a moment to admire how the blue lace clings to your skin, delicate gemstones glittering like you’d ripped the stars straight out of the sky. 

“Lay back on the bed.” He rumbles, shamefully stealing an eyeful of your ass as you turn to crawl up to your pillows. “And as much as I love this outfit, I need you to take it off. Right Now.” You strip yourself out of the lace set, tossing it onto the carpet. His eyes blow out as he admires your naked form. You hear Az settle himself on his own bed and the sound of his belt unbuckling makes your mouth water. You’ve seen his dick before, obviously, but you wish that you could wrap your mouth around him right now. 

“Are you touching yourself?” You mutter into the quiet, the sound like a bomb exploding around your buzzing anticipation.

“Not yet.” he grinds out. “I’m waiting for you.” his jeans and shirt hit the ground moments later. You eagerly drink in the dark ink you can see swirling around his collarbones.

“I wanna suck you off so bad.” Your brain goes into that empty fuzzy space that only happens when you and Az do something like this. A pained sort of noise falls out of his mouth, a mix between a whimper and a groan. 

“Are you wet for me?” He questions, quirking a dark brow. You hum your difference, shrugging a bare shoulder. “You don’t know? Why don’t you find out for me?” You skate your fingers down your body, gliding them through your center. Your fingers come away slick with your arousal, and you circle your clit once letting out a breathless moan that makes Azriel’s eyes roll.  

“I want you.” You mumble as you continue to toy with yourself and let your mind run wild. Images flash behind your eyelids, thoughts of Az between your thighs and him pounding you into the mattress so hard his hands leave bruises on your hips. 

“Get your vibrator.” He orders and you slip your hand into the drawer of your right nightstand. You find the pink bullet and flick it to the lowest setting. “Run it down your body, slowly.” Following his instructions you drag the toy down your body until you reach your center. You can hear Azriel’s labored breath as he exhibits self-restraint. He wants nothing more right now than to make you cry with pleasure instead of that toy. “Give me a show now, Sweetheart.” He kicks off his underwear, finally palming his rock-hard cock. 

You do exactly as he asks flicking the vibrator up another setting as you finally allow it to touch your clit. You throw your head back with a moan, fisting your other hand in your bed sheets. You imagine it’s his tongue or his fingers. A thousand fantasies flash in your brain as you push down a little harder, hips canting up to meet the toy, grinding yourself into it. Azriel jerks himself, his own fantasies playing on a loop. He keeps his eyes open though, refusing to take his eyes off of you for even one second. 

He doesn’t even think he’s blinked since the moment you answered his phone call. 

“Az, I wanna hear you cum. Please.” You beg, you need to hear him to get yourself there. Azriel bites back a guttural moan, he’s still having trouble wrapping his brain around the fact that you actually want to hear him be loud. He’s been quiet his whole life, not quite used to having someone who never wants him to stop talking. “Please,” you beg again and he snaps letting a whimper escape out of his lips. All of his moans slip out after that. It’s music to your ears as you turn the vibrator up another speed and slip a finger inside of you, curling your fingers so you can barely skim the spot that makes you see white. 

“I’m close,” he promises and that helps you push yourself toward a blazing crescendo right as Az explodes alongside you. You stand on shaking legs and collect your phone from the dresser before slumping back against the pillows. “You’re amazing,” He mutters into his pillow, eyelids drooping in his state of bliss. 

“I bought you a plane ticket.” you can’t control it as you blurt it out. “For over Valentine’s Day…if you want to come.” it tumbles out, suddenly insecure. 

“You what?” Azriel shoots up shock straight, looking at you with wild eyes. “Are you joking?” 

“No, I’m not joking. I’m sorry if it’s too forward–I can cancel it, I should’ve talked to you about it first.” You curse, already pulling up the airport's website to cancel the ticket. 

“Don’t cancel it.” Azriel cuts in, “Of course I want to come. I’ll be there, whatever it takes.”

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #acotar au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel x you

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 14

Azriel x Third-oldest-archeron-sibling!reader

a/n: small note because it’s a bit confusing, but az’s pov and reader’s pov are 24 hours apart—az is on the third day of her absence while reader is on the fourth :)

Word Count: 7,296

-Part 13- -🎇🎆-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

He knows he can withstand pressure. It makes no difference whether the weight comes from time ticking on, or the tension that coils beneath the icy bite of steel—he has withstood it all. But it’s been three days, and she hasn’t returned to her lonely room in the House. No light has flickered beneath the door’s frame, no soft taps of cotton-wrapped feet padding quietly through the halls, the corridors smelling blandly of wood and pine, lacking the sweetness he’s become accustomed to.

Maybe she’d run scared.

He should have kept a closer eye on her, especially after the fortnight had passed. Would it really have been so bad, he has to wonder. Hadn’t the years in Prythian shown her how wonderful magic could be? Why shy from it? The potential brimming from her fingertips, cauldron-gifted magic ripe and ready for use. He wonders how she sees it. It’s clearly something less appealing, if she’d taken to hiding.

Azriel stretches out, wings splaying taut at his back as sturdy muscle shudders with relief, shaking out the tightness of his shoulders, getting to his feet. He glances once more over the report Cassian had written from Day, still no closer to what they were looking for. Restlessness threads through his bones, jittery and in need of preoccupying. It’s only a matter of time before the tingling static sparks. The others may be managing on their own, but after everything that’s happened in such a condensed span of time, now with a baby to worry about—Rhys doesn’t need this too. None of them do. They may hide it well, but they all can sense that crackling undercurrent, hushed snicks of a second hand ticking down.

And now he’s scared her off, too.

For the third time in as many days, he makes the pathway to her door, spelled to keep sound trapped within, but also preventing it from seeping out. He’s no longer able to hear soft, even breaths when his shadows pass by, not even the crisp rasp of pages turning, nor the rustle of clothing as it’s moved about. He knocks thrice on the door, not bothering with calling out—the wards prevent that. He wonders not for the first time if she can even hear the knocks, he does’t know where the magic lies—if it cuts out the thud of wood. So, as usual, he slides the note under the door.

He has no idea if she’s so much as peeked at the others, has no idea if she’s even actually inside. With the noise cancelling of the wards, and the magic nature of the House, she could very well be remaining curled up in the room, eating what the House gives her, flipping through pages in her own world. He doubts it—he surely would know if she occupied the space behind the door, but remains unsure to the extent of the magic lining the dimensions of the room. It feels too quiet.

Scarred fingers raise to the handle, turning it with ease, and the door opens, left unlocked. He hears no words of protest after announcing he would be coming in, so opens it wider, revealing what he expected: she isn’t here.

The room is emptier without her sat at her desk, without the clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor and bed, without the stacks of book normally set beside her mattress—everything left neat and tidy. Hazel eyes flick to the desk, noting the absence of the bound volume, instead spotting a piece of parchment abandoned where the book would lay. He walks over but leaves it upon the surface, untouched, simply scanning the sparse note.

At Bas’.

I’ll be back shortly.

His brows narrow, at last raising the paper from the desk, inhaling lightly. The faint scent of gardenias clings to the edges, likely where her skin had brushed over the parchment, but it’s already fading. She probably wrote it that night, three days ago.

Azriel sighs, discarding the paper and turning for the door, scanning one last time over the room before leaving. They catch on the dusty red box, untouched and sealed, ribbon still wrapped surprisingly neatly over the rectangular box of the jigsaw puzzle, poking out from beneath her bed. He pauses then, eyes wandering over its form, thoughts passing idly. Then they’re shifting with purpose, glancing again to the desk, this time marking the purple and silver bookmark set aside at the edge, beside the ink pot. It’s been placed facing down. A small painting of starfall rendered in blues, yellows, and oranges in place of the irradiated greens and iridescent golds, positioned adjacent. The pendant he knows his brother chose—admittedly with a little guidance from Nesta, but no less meaningful—laying atop the bookmark. He hasn’t seen her without it since before she had it.

Some dried flowers lay separately.

His eyes shift warily to the singular shelf that’s normally holding borrowed books from the library, now only keeping the weight of one—a short romance, one he’s seen Nesta reading multiple times over. She must have returned them all before leaving to Bas’—but she would have no need to.

Turning to the closet, he pulls open one of the doors that holds a full-length mirror, smudge marks near the edges, and he notes the couple of crudely drawn smiley faces. A curved line and two dots, drawn with the tip of her finger. Inside the cupboard are the neatly folded clothes, all set tidily, and he marks the small bottle of crimson nail polish, still sealed. Beside it is the bright pink lipstick, and his shadows wrap around it, removing the lid. It looks like it’s been used a few times, though he’s never seen her wearing it. He closes the door heavily, returning the gift to its place.

That would leave only his and Elain’s presents unaccounted for, but this time he moves toward her bedside table, shadows once again in use as they lift the lid from the box, successfully locating the glimmering metal of the orrery she’d fawned over. Covered to keep it safe from dust. All signs pointing to her being gone for more than a little while.

Hazel eyes return to the underside of her bed, dipping down in search for the blue box they’d come in. The coloured ribbon that had been suggested, and remained unaltered. Instead he finds brown paper bags, and like almost everything else, they seem untouched. Left to themselves, as if trying to be forgotten. Shadows spool through the handles, neatly lifting them from the floor and carrying them out. Inside are some books, and a short glance at the first page reveals they’re owned, not borrowed. His lips push into a thin line—things from her trips with Mor.

Still no sign of that small, blue box.

He wouldn’t blame her if she’d found a way to return them. It would be better if she had, than if she’d chosen to hold onto them. To hold them dear. His jaw works, returning the bags to their selected place, standing to his full height, once again sweeping the room.

He hopes that she doesn’t treasure them. She doesn’t deserve that indignity.

Gloves lay atop her pillow, and he picks them up, once again inhaling incase they hold a more recent scent. Instead he pulls them away sharply.

The sweetness of flora soured by the damning scent of copper.

The metallic tang that’s impossible for him to forget, so soaked into his skin.

Something sharp tightens in his gut, instincts recoiling and he makes the walk to the windows, opening them to clear the stuffiness from the room. Clearing the smell, starting afresh. Right now, his next task is seeking her out, luring her from whatever burrow she’s found for herself, likely with the male she’d mentioned in the note.

Whatever happens, he tells himself she’ll have to return with him. What’s at stake is too important to risk, he’ll have to handle it delicately.

Make sure she doesn’t run at the first sense of him.

————

The silver bands gleam beneath the crisp afternoon light, crisp breeze fluttering through the free strands of hair at your cheek.

Twenty minutes, he’d given you. Glancing up at the clock tower, you can see you have closer to fifteen left, but it should be enough to at least look. You hardly understand what you’d been thinking, coming here on your own. Possessed by a abrupt urge to walk, and to move. To remind yourself of your ability to chose, the autonomy you have over your body.

Eyes run over the rings, a wonderful display of craftsmanship, intricate little designs human eyes might struggle to pick out. One band has tiny wings welded to the sides, feathers brushed with pearl wrapped around the ring. Another is encrusted with gems that glimmer beneath the watery sunlight, winking and swirling as people move at your back.

Your attention shifts to a new section of the jewellery, rings with raised platforms, holding small engravings on their perfectly smooth surface. Soft creatures bundled together, initials carved into the metal, icons carefully indented upon the ring’s canvas. Almost instinctively, as if guided, your eyes find those of a fox’s, its long fur blowing elegantly in a light breeze, snout raised to the air as it takes in what are likely the last few rays of sun for the day. It’s eyes are closed in concentration and pleasure, leaning into the wind as it wraps about the animal, tall grass swaying with the airways.

“It’s a precious one, that,” the welder says, breaking you from your examination. “Aside from its beauty?” You ask, meeting their gaze—heavy and tired. A faint smile gleams in his eyes, twinkling at the reply, nodding. “Did you make all of these yourself?” You question, re-examining each piece briefly. Again he nods, and you blink. “All of them?” You repeat, watching with furrowed brows. His features drop to displeasure, thick arms folding over a robust chest. “Think I stole some?” He retorts gruffly. “These are all mine. Not a single one you’ll find elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly, “I didn’t mean to…” But he’s already waving his hand dismissively, “I didn’t think you did. Not the type to.”

Not the type to?

“I…thank you.” He nods his head sharply, roughly, and you wait to see if he’ll say more. When he doesn’t, you awkwardly return your attention to the ring, wondering how he managed to capture the moment so perfectly. How much time he must spend simply observing to be able to recreate it with its own sense of life—how he’s managed to contain that energy in cold silver.

“I’m sorry, but are we…I mean, can I…can I look more at it? Pick it up?” You ask the welder, anxiously tiptoeing. Again with a gruff nod. “Guards’ll be on you before you clear the yard, so no running,” he warns. “Fae have lost fingers over these pieces.” You blanch, and he chuckles at the expression, making you unsure of the claim’s truth. You have no idea whether he’s lying or not.

Either way, you swallow, plucking the flat-surfaced ring from the display, wondering. It slides down easily over your knuckles, hanging loosely from the base of your middle finger. Hopefully large enough.

“Bit big for you.”

You fumble, nearly dropping the ring as you remove it from your finger. “Careful,” the welder remarks, eyeing you warily. Blood pumps through your chest, skin warming as you hold the band carefully in your palm. “How…how much is it?” You ask, nerves squirming beneath your flesh, aware of how your throat is sticking together. “3,800 gold marks,” he responds, and your heart drops. “Oh,” you mumble, crestfallen. You guess it’s out of the question, then. “I’m just pulling your leg,” he chuckles gruffly, “it’s only 500.”

“Oh,” you laugh faintly, forcing the smile. It’s still far too much than you could possibly afford. What had you been thinking?

Your eyes drop to the carving, the fox, free in its lands. Wild and beautiful. At peace.

“I…” You lick your lips, setting the ring on the table to show you won’t steal it. “I don’t suppose…I mean, do you trade?” You manage, words bumbling out clumsily, heart stumbling in your chest, breathing a little jagged. The welder pins you with a hard look, bushy brows narrowing in inspection. “What about those rings of your own?” He asks, pointing a meaty finger to you.

You blink, gloved hands wringing together. “What…rings…?” You ask, unsure of what he means. The welder gives an impatient look, and your shoulders tense at the expression. “The rings on your ears. Those look valuable.” You blink, lips slightly parted as you thumb gently over the gold and pearl slotted into the lobes. “Would these work?” You question, a shade quietly.

The welder opens his palm, beckoning. “Let me have a look.” You swallow, but manage to unhook one from your ear without tearing, keeping the trembles to a minimum as you set it in his palm. He raises it to the light, examining it carefully, performing a series of some unknown tests. “Hand over both, and it’s yours,” he offers clearly, the gruffness faded, all business now, returning the earring.

You take it, peering at the tear-drop pearl that you’d treasured. Teeth pull at the inside of your lip, glancing at the flat-topped ring. It’s about time you made some choices of your own, even if they might be bad ones.

“Okay,” you say, a little breathlessly, mostly to yourself. “Both of them. That sounds perfect.” You unhook the other earring, pressing both into his palm a little shakily, heart pounding with exhilaration and uncertainty. But it’s done now.

The welder nods his head in confirmation. “It’s all yours then. Good doing business with you,” he says, scribbling on a small piece of card before handing it over. The title of the piece, the price, and the craftsman’s name inked upon it. A nervous smile makes its way onto your lips, and you take the ring. “Thank you, good doing business with you too,” you say, “have a nice day.”

And with that you pocket the ring and card, giving one last smile to the welder before turning back the way you came, heading over the neat cobbles. Feeling a little lighter than before, breathing easier as you make for the agreed meeting spot.

A strange feeling of pleasure tingling in your chest. Something like satisfaction; pride, and the smile stays with you for a little longer.

————

He knocks thrice on the door he knows belongs to the male, looming before it as he waits.

A latch clicks, and golden eyes pierce out from the relative darkness, marking who’s darkening his doorstep, pupils tightening warily. He opens the door a little wider, shoulder leaning into the thick, wooden frame, ankles crossed, propping his weight on one leg, foot keeping the door from opening any further—also preventing him from barging in. Deceptively casual while remaining cautious, defensive.

“I need to speak with her,” Azriel says, straight to the point, shadows peeking in through the lower windows from the garden. “She’s preoccupied,” Bas informs, unblinking as he takes in the Shadowsinger’s menacing silhouette, great wings towering at his back, capable of shattering bone with a single hit, if stood too close. “It’s important,” Azriel counters smoothly, “family business.”

“I can’t help. She’ll be ready by the end of the week, no sooner.”

Shadows sneak up the vines that have crawled over the light brick walls, but his curtains have been drawn so Azriel has no way of finding her or even catching a glimpse of her condition. “I said it’s important,” he repeats calmly, lowly, eyes flicking over his shoulder to the rest of the house—or what he can see. Bas tilts his foot, not-so-subtly bringing the door to a tighter close, blocking out the view. Bastard.

“And she’s still busy,” Bas repeats, unfaltering. “If it’s so important then I can pass on a message, but she’s staying until the end of the week. You can come back then, if it’s that serious.” Displeasure has his lips pressing together in a pejorative fashion, angling his head in a way that serves as a warning, more warrior than fae, staring down at the male despite there being a mere inch between them. “What’s keeping her busy?”

Bas keeps his expression casual, but replies with surprising adamance, “something important.”

“What?” Azriel repeats, warmth vacating his features, becoming hewn from rock. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Bas remarks idly, golden eyes running with provoking analysation over the male. His mouth sharpens a little, as if finding something funny, and Azriel briefly considers the merits of roping his brother into this mess. Just by name, of course. Rhys doesn’t need the extra stress of knowing about this.

So the Shadowsinger matches the expression, cool amusement passing through cutting hazel eyes. “Would you be willing to explain her busyness to your High Lord, then?” He remarks.

Azriel doesn’t miss the tension that stitches the male’s shoulders tighter, a faint beat of pleasure echoing through his bones in response to the obvious discomfort. “It’s private,” Bas deflects, thick brows narrowing as his emotions begin to surface. “We’re her family,” Azriel reminds, “you’re an acquaintance.”

A wicked grin raises Bas’ lips, the taunt of instigation gleaming in his golden eyes. “Very well acquainted,” he drawls, peering at the Shadowsinger provocatively.

It’s enough to have Azriel pausing, considering the male before him, examining him. And then stepping forward, intruding into personal space.

Bas doesn’t yield an inch, and it has the Spymaster considering what a brawl with the male would look like. Whether blood would spray as easily as it did the last time he saw the golden-eyed male.

Bas stiffens beneath the look, pushing up from the door frame into a more secure stance. He doesn’t like the look in the warrior’s gaze, how he’s being sized up.

“Tell me why she’s busy,” Azriel commands softly, lower than a whisper and sweeter than silk, yet it has the hairs at the nape of Bas’ neck rising, warning him against something even fae eyesight is unable to detect. Instinct calling for him to back away from the fight.

The Shadowsinger marks the roll of the male’s throat keenly, attention cutting him down to size.

“She’s on her cycle,” Bas bites out at last, after a resentful glare directed his way. “So she’ll be staying here until she feels good enough to move again.”

“Do not,” Azriel whispers, “lie to me.” He steps forward, leather boots pressing hardly even an inch over the threshold, but he knows the male marks it, the blatant disrespect. The Shadowsinger’s nostrils flare delicately on instinct, as every fae’s do when entering upon a new area, and the scent of charcoal and freshly tilled earth enters his senses, along with the faintest hint of sweetness. A floral note hidden beneath the male’s scent.

Very well acquainted, the male had proclaimed.

Azriel’s features turn to ice, any previous amusement or satisfaction draining swiftly away, leaving deadly neutrality. “Find her. I need to speak with her.” Cold hazel runs over the male’s frame. “Promptly.”

“She doesn’t want to speak with you,” Bas replies sharply. “Whatever it is can wait until she’s ready. By the end of the week.”

“And I’ve told you it’s important, so either bring her down here or move aside.”

The very air crackles sharply, a pulse of magic thumping across the landscape, felt in the skies as it shocks through the land.

Gold and hazel blink at the same time, having both felt the shift, skin tingling faintly, like their limbs had fallen asleep. Pressure splitting as ears pop, feeling briefly disorientated.

Bas swallows, eyes returning to the Shadowsinger’s. “I think the fact alone she’s chosen to come here over staying with her family is enough. And I will tell my High Lord the same if you bring him.” Neither of them address the odd shift in atmosphere. “She’s come here, to my house, because it’s where she feels safe. Not with you, yeah?”

“She hasn’t spoken about you,” Azriel states coolly, staring down at the male. “So I have to wonder how honest you’re being.”

“That says more about you than it does about me,” Bas replies lowly. “Because she’s told me a lot about you.” The way he says it makes it clear exactly what he thinks of what he’s heard—and he is not impressed.

Hazel eyes narrow down on the male, pupils tightening with focus. “You’re meddling in Court affairs,” he says lowly, ice hardening his features, “bigger than you could understand. So I will ask you one more time to bring her down here.”

Rhys would have bitten into him then and there had he heard the command in his voice.

Fortunately, Rhys doesn’t have to know how his morals took a sharp turn around the time of the first war. Fortunately, Rhys believes them to still be mostly intact, not half disintegrated and little more than dust upon the cold, dark, cell-stones of his mind. There’s too much at stake for him to waste time with smooth words and idle talk, too much pressure gathering in the skies, a storm on the way at a pace none of them are able to gauge. He doesn’t need this inconvenience—not when his very life might depend on handling her correctly. As if she isn’t a clock ticking down to detonation.

The visions don’t lie, and he has heard what Elain saw, straight from the seer’s mouth. About that flash of vibrant, pale green light, then his body bleeding out on the floor. Fate exists, and there must be a reason for her magic to only now be making an appearance. There must be a reason for his death.

(There must be.)

And yet, as usual, it doesn’t feel like there’s enough time.

“Come back with someone else to verify that, and I’ll consider it,” Bas snaps lowly, hand resting on the side of the door, poised to shut it in the Shadowsinger’s face. “Until then, you keep your hands off her.”

The door shuts, and Azriel’s forced to take a step back, caught off guard. Had she told him about what happened in the library so long ago? Was that a comment about his warped palms?

Frustration burns through his blood but he knows how to temper it, attempting to calm himself despite the hurried tick of his heart. There isn’t time for this, every second is precious. He should be sending a message back to Cassian, discussing these new events with Rhys, filling the rest of them in on the vision and her magic.

Gods, he shouldn’t have allowed her those two weeks on her own. He should have put his foot down then and forced to tell her sisters at the very least. Fuck, he should have done it himself. But he’d let himself be swayed by her emotions, the deep-rooted fear he doubted she was even aware was in her eyes, shifting her scent. But it had been his own shitty way of trying to apologise, allowing her the time she needed, time Elain had insisted she needed.

He sighs roughly, hands flexing at his sides as he turns from the home, already instinctively making his way to the River House. He can’t wait until the end of the week, there’s already enough he has to deal with between her abrupt absence and having to keep monitoring everything, within other courts as well as his own.

He shouldn’t have been so lenient.

He should have pushed more.

Then she would have been able to see there’s nothing to fear.

Then there would have been more time.

————

“Like this?”

“Try it.”

Your brows furrow, but you reach forward, fingers hardly even brushing the rope before his hand is roughly gripping the nape of your cloak, yanking you back hard enough that you choke as something whistles through the air. You gasp, running your palm over where the material had dug in, oesophagus feeling swollen and large within your neck.

“Do you have a death wish?” He snarls, fingers still painfully digging into the material, inadvertently having gotten your hair tangled in his fist, making you wince, eyes prickling with heat. “Eris, ease up,” you grit out, wincing, “you’re going to strangle me.”

He releases you roughly, not missing the sharp tug he gives beforehand. “I should strangle you for being so stupid,” he mutters harshly, stepping back to let you get to your feet, take in what just happened.

You blink, heart pounding from the abrupt turn in attitude, breathing a little faster than before as you turn to peer at the ground a few steps away from the snare he’d shown you how to set—the arrow that’s lodged firmly in the soil.

“You said to try it,” you accuse, aghast at how close the projectile had come to slicing you open, spearing into your flesh. It might’ve gone straight through bone, piercing your skull.

“With a stick,” he snaps, “using a stick. Not your bare hands.” Flame blazes in his eyes, brows slightly narrowed, lips pursed in a terse, pissed-off line. “I thought you were pretending when you said your youngest sister did all the hunting,” he mutters, shaking his head lightly as his groups his long fingers over the bridge of his nose. “I can see why. You’d have likely shot her through.”

Your lips part in slight shock, a look of hurt and dismay marring your features. “Maybe if you were a better teacher that wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, getting to your feet, briskly brushing off the dirt that’s gotten stuck to the back of your cloak. “I didn’t know it would fire automatically.”

“It’s a weapon made to do exactly that,” he snaps, beginning to calm himself, though you can still make out the irritation in his gaze. “You aren’t stupid, despite what your actions suggest. It’s common sense to use a stick.”

“I didn’t know!” You reply sharply, feeling unfairly judged, walking over to where the arrow is lodged in the dirt, pulling it out with some difficulty. “Just because I wasn’t raised to kill…” you mutter.

Keeping your back to him, you pretend to examine the arrow as you wait for his reply, wondering if the comment will have gotten under his skin. But instead you’re met with silence.

“It’s common sense to use a stick,” he repeats lowly, intonation shifting. “Why didn’t you?”

You scowl at him, gripping the arrow as you fold your cloak tighter against the chill breeze. “I’ve never hunted before,” you remind him, sharply, “I didn’t even know it was called a crossbow until today.”

His gaze slices into you, feeling more invasive than usual. Like he’s discovered an opening you’d somehow missed, carefully concealed yet revealed in a subconscious lapse.

Eris stands straighter, angling his head. Cutting amber eyes pierce into you with a weight that’s unsettling, hairs rising at the nape of your neck. He’s made it easy to forget he’s as much as a warrior as the others are. As deadly.

“Do you have a death wish?” He asks quietly.

You snort, rolling your eyes, returning to the crossbow, making to reset it like he’d shown you.

The silence stretches, and you blink, spinning to face him. “Of course not,” you exclaim disbelievingly, staring at him with slight horror. “What on earth would I get out of that?” You mutter, returning to the bow, trying to remember where to fit each part, what lines up where.

“You’ve never thought it would be easier?” He says from nearer by, still in that slightly hushed tone. You frown, peering up at him sidelong. “What would be easier? Engineering my own death?” You ask humorously.

“Yes.”

You blink, hesitating. Fingers pause on the crossbow, attention shifting elsewhere.

“I suppose absence would be easier,” you murmur idly. “But the effort of ending myself would ruin things. I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.”

“About what?” He asks, moving to the other side of the bow, clicking back a part, allowing it to stretch, able to fit the arrow. “About how to do it the right way, I suppose,” you answer, slotting the small projectile in with a satisfying click. “How to keep it clean, or keep it painless. Probably trying to minimise the horror of whoever finds you—if you pass in place you’d be able to be found.”

“Sounds like you’ve given it some thought,” Eris remarks. “I’m giving you a comprehensive answer,” you retort, meeting his gaze. “Do you want me to take you seriously or not?”

“You need to close that up,” he says, nodding to the latch that will secure the arrow in pace. “Here?” You ask, clicking it down and pulling it back, tension rigid across the bow. “There,” he says, and you watch how he ties the rope to the trigger, setting it so the slightest tug will set the arrow free.

Eris steps back, and you peer at him. “What should I aim for this time?” You ask. He thinks for a moment, before a creature made of small flames appears above the rope, hovering—it looks like a deer.

“Anywhere on the main body would do, though the heart or the throat would be best. Equally through the skull, but that’s a smaller target,” he answers, and you grimace. “The legs would suffice this time, since the snare would keep it place. Though without it you’d have to go to the effort of tracking it down, which if you’re having to resort to a crossbow, I don’t imagine you’d want to waste time over.”

“So I just have to hit it?” You ask dryly, giving him an unimpressed look.

His eyes gleam, corners of his mouth sharpening, “if you can.”

————

“Would an arrow have worked on the…” you fumble, not sure what to call it, wrapping your cloak tighter to keep out the autumn chill. “On the creature…? Two days ago?”

“You’re not serious,” Eris muses from your side, piercing amber eyes darting from stall to stall, walking out through the market to get to the main shopping district. “A no would have sufficed,” you reply, laughing a little. “You don’t have to always put things in their coldest form, you know.”

“I thought I’d make you aware of what an idiotic question it was,” he remarks, pausing to glance at a table, lovely silks draped over various racks and hangers. “Weird how I don’t know about something I know nothing about,” you huff, pulling the fabric tighter. “It’s almost as if I’ve never hunted before.”

Eris rolls his eyes, and a faint smile tugs at your mouth at the open show of irritation. “Have they not even taught you how to fight?” He asks disapprovingly, tracing his fingers over the stitched hem of a scarf. “Why would I need to know how to fight?” You reply earnestly. “The war’s over.”

His fingers pause, and he glances at you sidelong. A beat stretching between you as he quietly stitches things together. “Indeed it is,” he says at last, gaze sliding back to the stall, though his attention doesn’t fully shift.

Your brow furrows at the odd exchange, before glancing elsewhere, wondering if you’d be able to spot the welder’s table from here. You peer about but don’t recognise anything, instead gorging your eyes on gleaming jewels and dazzling finery. Is this all second-nature to him? Does any of it amaze him, or will everything inevitably lose its potency when digested continuously? Would even perfectly soft beds, and heated slippers become part of the relentless drag of life?

You can’t imagine ever being unhappy with warm slippers, though. Maybe it’s a poor comparison.

“Take your hood down,” Eris instructs.

You blink, reluctantly lowering the fabric, shivering as a cool breeze bites at your collar bones; the tops of your shoulders. He pushes the scarf into your hands, already in motion as you start to keep in step. “Now put that on and stop looking so feeble,” he mutters. “Something as simple as the cold shouldn’t be bothering you so visibly.”

The silk is surprisingly warm beneath your fingertips in spite of its thinness, and you fumble for a second before neatly wrapping it over your shoulders, concealing the little skin that’s been left unprotected against the harsh chill of autumn.

“Thank you,” you say a touch faintly, almost scared to brush against the delicate fabric wrong, though it’s undoubtedly tough enough to hold up against your hands. As long as you don’t spark up, that is.

“I know I said I wasn’t surprised you hadn’t the foresight to think ahead, but not even a scarf?” He mutters under his breath, glancing down at you distastefully. “If you’re so easily affected by the weather you should have taken precautions. Why didn’t you bring something heavier?”

“I’m never accepting anything from you ever again,” you mutter back, tucking the end of the fabric beneath your cloak. “Especially if you’re just going to use it as an excuse to tell me everything I’ve done wrong. Surely by your logic it would be better to let me freeze as a way to learn the lesson.”

“I don’t need an excuse to tell you everything you’ve done wrong, but it’s embarrassing to have you shivering so obviously at my side,” he replies.

You stare at him for a moment, a little offended. “What do you mean, everything—”

“I mean, everything, because it’s a lot,” he says, cutting you off. “Really, had you even tried accessing your magic before coming here?”

“Of course I had,” you snap, sobering up a little as you remember the attempts. “But it’s a little hard to keep morale up when the results are so…” you trail off, subtly gesturing to your hands, ashamed to have them connected to your wrists despite the gloves you’d brought with you.

“Of course you’d bring gloves but forget a scarf,” he murmurs under his breath, making you grit your teeth against a scowl. “I didn’t forget a scarf, I don’t have any,” you snap at him. “Don’t have any?” He asks, doubt in his voice. “I find that hard to believe. Doesn’t Rhys keep you fully stocked on everything you could ever want?”

Eris marks the way you avert your eyes, head lowering a little as though there’s an invisible weight around your throat. “He does,” you reply quietly. “But none of that’s mine.”

“I’m pretty sure if he’s paid for it, and had it put in your wardrobe, that means it’s yours.”

You look up at him then, an indecipherable expression on your face. Conflicted.

“It wouldn’t be right, though,” you mumble, looking away again, shifting back to step in his footsteps. “Not when he’s done so much for us. Kindly given us a place to stay, and made our lives so much better in ways I hadn’t even dared to dream of before.” Your hands wring together, and he catches the slight flinch as you accidentally graze over what’s probably a new bruise or bump. “Especially not when he probably wouldn’t even… Not when I’ve…”

“…run straight into the enemy’s arms?” Eris finishes dryly, a wry look on his face. “Your words not mine,” you shoot back, before once again quietening. “But yes. It would be like spitting on his kindness, and I can’t…I can’t do that.”

He listens to your breathing, a little uneven. You feel quieter after that dive into your thoughts. “Good to know you’re fine if it’s my money being spent,” he remarks flatly, continuing forward. Really, you practically shrivel up and die whenever he brings any of them up. Maybe there’s a reason you’re so clueless to the larger picture.

“But I don’t owe you anything,” you murmur, hardly louder than a breath, and he’s so caught up in examining that angle he almost misses your reply. Possibly the root of all your problems. If not the foundation, then certainly the stem.

“Something tells me he won’t be charging you for every piece of gold you take up,” Eris replies, glancing back at you, slowing his paces to remind you to keep up. It’s plainly odd to have a conversation with someone trailing at your back.

“He doesn’t need to, but that doesn’t mean everything’s forgiven,” you counter, pulling the cloak closer, arms folding over your body, tucking in tight. “I can’t just accept everything he’s done—everything they’ve all done—and pretend like we’re all happy and equal. There’s a debt.” And it’s been a struggle to even keep your head above the water.

“So that’s what convinced you to come to me? So you can learn how to become useful?” He doesn’t seem particularly impressed, and something simmers in the pit of your chest. “A reason is a reason, isn’t it?” You reply lowly, brow narrowing. “Why not work with them? Save yourself the grief of having to face them when you return?” A faint smile sharpens his mouth, but it’s not of the ones you’ve become accustomed to. This one’s cold, the look in his eyes hinting at something vulpine lurking just beneath his skin. “I can’t imagine any of them being particularly pleased with your choices.”

“Is this another one of your tactics?” You ask abruptly. “Trying to make me anxious and tense so that I might lose control again and spark up?”

“We’re in the middle of a marketplace. I would hope not.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?” Again, that slow smile that has the hairs at the nape of your neck rising. The glint in his eyes as he guesses at the reaction—pleased with it. “Simply gauging the distance,” he muses, forging on ahead as you step to be at his side, pushing away from his trail of footsteps.

“Why? You’ve never show any interest in my relations before,” you point out, keeping an eye on him in your peripherals, now beyond the palace’s borders, moving for a road that will lead to the larger shopping district. “Haven’t I?” He remarks, something to his tone that makes you question yourself. Has he done any prying without you noticing? Your brows bunch a little, small worry lines creasing between them.

“You wouldn’t get anything, anyway,” you say defensively. You don’t have anything to give. “Don’t you think it’s strange how out-of-the-loop you are?” He asks, making you pause.

“No. I don’t.”

“You have no interest in the inner workings of your group?”

“I… Should I?” You ask, questioning yourself as you peer at him. Cutting amber spears into you, surprisingly intense as he pauses outside the defensive walls of the Palace.

The wind dies away, and you become aware of how still and silent the surrounding forest is, as if enchanted by something not entirely good. The world seems to slow to a eerie drag, black pupils contracting as they pierce into you, cold and experienced. You’ve never really considered any of them old, at least in the sense you’d grown up with, but now, as he’s stood before you with such horrific stillness, such an indecipherable look on his honed features, the sheer difference might have begun to dawn on you.

“Events happen in this world—it’s a condition of life. Of nature. Instinctive or otherwise, everything will naturally fall to chaos if left unchecked. Keeping yourself distanced, pulling away from the events of your life will not force them to remain a constant but instead facilitate that inevitable shift towards chaos.

“You have the potential for control yet choose to discard it, choose to avoid it. You allow things to happen to you, to sit back and put yourself at the mercy of external forces in being so complaisant. I don’t understand how anyone could be so content with inaction, and I don’t think you truly are, yet your choices suggest otherwise. You stay in your House, reading your life away, all in the pursuit of discovery, yet hardly seem to apply those interests to yourself.

“That’s not—"

“Shut up.” Pure ire blazes within his irises, and your mouth snaps shut of its own accord.

“You are idle and resigned. Too quick to accept what happens to you, and it’s pathetic.” The words smack across your skin, cracking down like a whip but he forges on. “I have told you before, and I will only tell you once more: you do not have the luxury of inaction. So don’t waste my time with a pretence of ambition when in the end you’ve already chosen to lie down and die.”

His words ring in the overwhelming silence of the forest, blaring through your world, resonating with a frequency that stirs cogs and sets wheels into motion, synapses sparking with powered charges as they snap and crackle.

“Use it,” he commands lowly, taking a step forward.

You blink, uncertain about what he means.

“Use it,” he repeats, rougher this time, gripping your wrists and holding them up. Thumbs slipping beneath the gloves, then turning them to ash.

“Eris, no— The last time—”

“Was for less than a second,” he says lowly. “Sustain it.”

“I don’t know how,” you grit out, hands bunching into fists.

“Use it or I’ll send you back.”

The fight drains from your body quicker than a millstone dropped in water. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says calmly, an intimidating ferocity underlying his words. “It’s been nearly a week, cygnet. I’m not going to parent you forever. Stand on your own two feet now.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Birds aren’t born knowing how to fly.”

You stare at him, wide eyed. Breathing shallow and stuttering. Hands shaking. But he does nothing without considering some sort of benefit. You’ve known from the beginning he’s manipulative; self-serving. Have been warned about his nature countless times.

He’s by no means foolish. Why place a bet if he thought he would lose?

You place a bet to win.

In his own way, he believes you’re capable of showing strength. Or at least harnessing it. With little to no faith in yourself, you’d never be able to make the leap, but with the trust placed in someone else, someone who has never pretended to be something he isn’t to you. It’s worth something, right?

Teeth bite together, pain creaking through your bones, groaning how furniture does when it’s on the verge of breaking. Aches sing through your palms, blossoming through your skin as pale green light flickers at your fingertips, irradiated and glowing. Gold shimmers at its edge, looking so familiar yet not. Like Starfall, but…more.

Either way, it’s enough for now. You’ve reached the bar he’d set, and can’t help but gaze in wonder at the view you’re presented with. How colour flickers and floats around your palms, glowing and waving with an unheard heartbeat.

“So you can summon it if you put your mind to it,” Eris muses, a hint of smugness to his voice that you would glare at if the cockiness wasn’t earned.

“You were trying to make me anxious,” you accuse.

“And it worked,” he counters, making you want to roll your eyes. “It seems to spark up in response to whatever imagined ending you think is coming along. An act of resistance before the fall.”

A faint glint of amusement sharpens his mouth, eyes gleaming. “Almost like a death surge.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #cbmthy

[hellcat8908]

Love Lost 3 Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Self-Hatred

please read the previous parts before continuing if you haven't already.

One Two

You woke to the delicious smell of soup and found a bowl on your nightstand with some warm bread. "You slept through dinner, so I brought you some soup." Eris says as he puts down the book he was reading. "Thank you." You say as you gently pick up the bowl and start eating. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here." You tell him between bites. "Glad to have you back for as long as you choose to stay." He turns his attention back to his book and lets you eat in peace. Once you're done, you get up to take your dishes back to the kitchen. "Leave them, I'll get them later." He says, closing his book and sitting it down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks. "Which part? Azriel breaking my heart or failing at carrying my baby?" You ask, regretting the tone in your voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out like that." You apologize. "Stop apologizing for everything. You're allowed to feel however you want, and after everything you've been through, I don't expect you to be cheerful." Eris says. "I feel like a failure, Eris. My body couldn't carry the baby. Madja said there was no way of knowing and nothing that could've been done."

You try blinking away your tears. Eris holds your hand as you continue. "I know how badly he wants a baby but then to be cursed with a mate who can't carry it. I've failed him and now he resents me. I'm not even sure I can go through this again even if I wanted to try for another baby." You admit as your head hangs low and the tears fall. Eris wraps his arms around you, "You're not a failure, and you're definitely not a curse. You're one of the strongest women I know to go through this. I know none of this is easy for you, but you're being too hard on yourself." He says.

"Be gentle with yourself, especially while you heal. You've been through enough that you don't need to fight yourself on top of everything else." He says as he comforts you. You start to calm down, and the tears stop. "You need to get some rest. You've had a rough day." He says as he stands and gathers your dishes. "We'll spend some time together tomorrow, maybe a walk through the forest." He says, making you smile. You used to love walks in the forest when you lived here. "Goodnight, Eris." You say before turning off the light. "Goodnight, y/n." He says before shutting the door.

Azriel knelt on the ground as his wings sagged around him. Cassian had never seen him look so broken. "What do you mean you're the reason?" Cass asks again. "I'm not good enough to be a father. The mother realized it and took the baby before I ever had the chance to try. Y/n was meant for being a mother. You've seen her with Nyx. I'm being punished for never being good enough." Azriel says as his eyes water.

"Azriel, Madja said there was no way of knowing this would happen, and there was nothing that could've been done. You need to quit blaming yourself for this. The only thing you should be punished for is abandoning your mate during the darkest part of her life. That's what you should feel guilty about." Cassian says. "What matters most now is what you do now." He says, placing a reassuring hand on Azriel's shoulder. "I need to see her, to try to fix this, if not fix it at least talk to her and tell her eveything."

"We'll go, but if she doesn't want to see you, we're leaving. She's been through enough, and you're going to do this on her terms." Cassian states. "Understood." Azriel says as he gets to his feet. "Rhys will meet us there." Cassian says before they winnow to the house. The house is dark and quiet as they enter. Azriel calls your name as he makes his way towards the bedroom. He calls several more times after finding the bedroom empty. "Azriel, you're going to want to see this." Cassian calls from the kitchen. Azriel quickly makes his way downstairs, finding Rhys and Cassian standing at the table.

He picks up the note, and with each word, his heart breaks more and more. "She's gone. She told me when I left to remember that when I walked out the door that I made the decision. At the time, I was too angry and upset to realize what she meant. I've lost her, and I lost the best part of my life." He says as he heart shatters with realization. Tears fall from his eyes as Cassian and Rhys help him into the chair. "We'll find her." Rhys says, trying to comfort Azriel. "You'll only find her if she wants to be found." Azriel says, "and I've given her every reason to not want to be found by any of us."

"Cassian stay with him, I'm going to inquire if any of the other courts have seen or heard from her, also I'll check with Feyre and Nesta and see if she said anything to them about where she was going or where she might go." Rhys says before heading back to the river house. "You should try to get some rest." Cassian says. "How can I sleep when it hurts this bad?" Azriel says. "What about the bond? Can't you try to reach her that way." Cassian asks. "The bond has been sealed off from us since I shut her out. I doubt she'd open it back up now. And knowing her, she's probably shut Rhys out of her mind as well." Azriel says as he stands and grabs a drink from the cabinet, pouring one for him and one for Cassian.

Next Part: 4

@crazylokonugget

#acotar #batboys #sarah j maas #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar angst #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten

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.

Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Gwyn says hi by the way.” 

Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found. 

Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.

“Calm down you idiot.” Nesta’s voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began. 

“Y/n’s not here. You’ll have to walk around half-naked some other time.” 

Azriel winced. “That isn’t what—”

Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.

“How is Gwyn doing?” he asked gingerly, casually. 

“She’s fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.”

Again he flinched. “I’m sorry, Nes,” he whispered rather pathetically. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.” 

There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien — especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things he’d made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him. 

Two years ago he’d challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elain’s hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. The mistake they’d made together. 

“Call it off,” she’d commanded him, blocking Lucien’s bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumn’s sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, “Do this and I will never forgive you. What we did… it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.”

A mistake, she’d called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. They’d chased him into Gwyn’s kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Mor’s coming out and… well he had a lot of work ahead of him. 

He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didn’t mean he’d twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythian’s publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books — the raunchier the better — and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. He’d sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they weren’t being opened or they weren’t bothering to respond. He wouldn’t blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him. 

That cold stillness in Nesta’s eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nesta’s system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity. 

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just give them time, Az. They’ll come around. If they did it for me, they’ll do it for you.” “I think our situations are rather different.” 

“I don’t.” 

“You didn’t try to kill anyone.”

She grimaced. “I came close.”  

He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard. 

“Can you—can you please not tell Y/n?” he begged. His voice was small and quiet. He’d been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. They’d all lived more in his mind than in his heart — people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. They’d been safe. Easy. 

It didn’t feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if he’d only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before you’d even become his to lose. 

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If you’re going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.”  

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want to get it right this time.” He had to get it right this time. “I want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I want…” I want to be worthy of her.  

Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like she’d gone mad.

She giggled again. “It’s funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.” 

Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you. 

You shoved the notebook off Rhysand’s desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves. 

“I told you notetaking was a futile effort.” The High Lord didn’t even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.

You groaned and dropped your head against the book he’d handed you two hours before. 

Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). She’d been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk — a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.

But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth — until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away. 

But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldn’t be controlled by logic or studying. 

You shoved against that power now.

“Good,” Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, “You’re getting better at it.” 

He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysand’s presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chair’s leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood. 

It wasn’t like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill — you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him. 

Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound. 

You held a music book between your hands — Nyx’s to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody. 

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be — silent. 

Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part — not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero. 

Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again. 

You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.

Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded. 

“Perfect timing. We’re done for today.” 

“I can go for longer,” you pleaded. 

“I know you can.” Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.

Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel — Starbreaker, Night Herder — after whom the mountain is named. They don’t move with the cold winds anymore, even if they’ve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they don’t make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a close—

Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. “I also know that the moment I dismiss you, you’ll scamper off to the Library to work until you can’t see straight.” 

You shifted in your seat. “I like it there.”

“That’s besides the point. If you keep going at this pace you’ll burn out. Then you won’t be able to help anyone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” 

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “I know what it feels like to burn out and it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.” 

Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. “And here I thought I worked too much,” he muttered beneath his breath. 

You carried Henna’s journal tucked within your new Librarian robes — black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow. 

But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.

You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. You’d effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysand’s lessons. Helion’s most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherp’s resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing — the ones that people knew about at least. 

The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmen’s Bard, and most recently, Argot’s.

 Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as they’d sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony. 

No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know what’s happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. I’ll write to you again when I can.

~ Helion 

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. “None of this makes sense.” 

You’d used every ounce of Rhysand’s training on the book. You’d imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. You’d glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object. 

When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your father’s court. You couldn’t content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysand’s office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown. 

The pattern was shockingly simple — Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Henna’s book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled. 

If you were Koschei you’d go after Godswoods next — the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows — the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. You’d spent a great deal of time there following your mother’s death, and you could picture it now — solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky. 

You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.

You held the paper out in front of you, Helion’s glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helion’s office.

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire. 

What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert? 

Henna had been careful. She’d stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out. 

It all felt… juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadn’t been tested yet and wasn’t listening to Koschei’s commands in their entirety. 

Azriel. 

You couldn’t help but think of him. 

Azriel was nothing like that. 

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t vy for attention. He didn’t seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one who’d seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.

No. Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel’s eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows he’d left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist. 

She’s been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you. 

Azriel smiled. He’d thought about you as well. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” 

You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. You’d developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but you’d caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom. 

You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you. 

He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home. 

“I flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.” With you. 

He’d gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that he’d flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, you’d not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity. 

“And how were the Mortal Lands?” You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.

You’d never been that far south. You’d never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Mor’s domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.

Azriel shook his head. “Quiet. Koschei hasn’t touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens don’t care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because he’s agreed to bargains with them in the past.” 

You made a noise of disapproval. “Like they handled Hybern? The only reason they’re still standing is because fae fought their war.” 

The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. They’d either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. “But they are still standing. They don’t know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. That’s the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacent” 

“It would seem we have the opposite problem. We can’t help but remember everything,” you said, with no small amount of bitterness. 

He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You weren’t aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further he’d traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didn’t feel like such a strenuous burden.

He smiled. “I think that’s just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.” He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight. 

Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the wind’s rough edge. 

It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight. 

“Like who?”

“Cassian.” 

You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flame’s gaping mouth. 

Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day. 

Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it. 

“How are the others? Rhysand told me Feyre’s sister is down there along with your friends.” 

Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. “Yes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.”

His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.

“And? Are they alright?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, she’d wake up in the morning still within the manor’s grey stone walls. Safe. Home. 

He shook his head gravely. “They’re nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and he’s been allowing her to stay, but… everyone’s just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day he’ll take her back.”

You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldn’t imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself. 

“I’ve heard of her. The firebird.” You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, “Ares House records all wartime information. I read the reports. We’re very thorough.”

Azriel smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

Silence passed in comfort, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Vassa.

“Do you think they’d be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?” 

“I don’t know, Y/n.” And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.

“I hate this,” you spat out, “The not knowing. I hate it.” 

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching. 

You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger. 

“How are things going? With the book?” 

You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch. 

“It’s going.” You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldn’t even stand to look at it after the hours you’d spent agonizing over its pages. “Rhysand’s been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.” 

But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you. 

Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. “That’s good.”

“I just… this may sound silly but, I’m not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and I’m just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I can’t do the thing I was brought here to do and I… I don’t like feeling this useless.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didn’t pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch. 

Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasn’t there at all. He seemed too good to be real. 

But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks. 

“You’re not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldn’t matter. You’re worth more than the things you can do, remember?”

“I remember.” Your voice was quiet and thick. 

You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily. 

Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azriel’s touch. 

“Did you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?” Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop. 

“I confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that you’re here, I’ll start again,” you mumbled into the encroaching dark.

“I look forward to it,” were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows. 

Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees — just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed. 

Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhys’s chest that kept Velaria’s plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing. 

“Uncle Az!” Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.

Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azriel’s chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another. 

Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azriel’s lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes. 

Rhysand rubbed Nyx’s shoulder and kissed Feyre’s cheek.

Let them sleep, Nyx. We’ll get breakfast at Huth’s today.

Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. He’d never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life. 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #everyone deserves a person who'll help them relax enough to fall asleep #late night conversations and barely there touches and longing and asdfbaefnaks #AZRIEL FREAKING MADE HER NEW ROBES SO SHE WOULD FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE #He's trying to grow and do right by his exes so he will feel more worthy of Y/n and I just ugh #i'm giving him Mr. Darcy energy I don't give a shit

[throneofsapphics]

taking a vacation with feysand and/or nessian

poly!feysand x reader & poly!nessian x reader

summary: for poly!acotar week day 4, adventure

warnings: none, very brief suggestiveness

a/n: look ... I messed up the dates and it might be barely but I still made it. here's some drabbles/ headcannons!

poly!Nessian x Reader

Perhaps surprisingly, Cassian insisted on planning it all as well as keeping it a surprise. Normally, he’d give in to either of you with enough pestering, but this time he was an iron wall, not a single clue or hint given to either of you. 

He pinched his thumb and forefinger together before drawing them across his lips, even miming tossing a key over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes, but a fond smile crept on to your lips.  “What if I promise not to tell Nes?” He snorted, and you lifted and dropped your shoulders. It was worth a try - but they both knew you were terrible at keeping secrets from either of them.  "It was worth a shot," you mumbled, redirecting your attention to the book on your lap. A shadow covered you, two fingers tilting your chin up. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, chapped lips lingering for a few seconds. "It'll be worth the wait," he reassured, confidence flowing through every word, not a hint of bullshit. Your eyes narrowed, but you gave a nod. Seemingly content, Cassian placed a too-brief kiss to your lips before making his way out of the room.

Nesta was a tad anxious over how his planning would turn out 

“It’s not if it’ll be a disaster, it’s how much of a disaster.”  “Have a little more faith in him,” you chastised, quickly looking away as she turned her glare on you.  “We don’t get much … time free together,” Nesta sighed, and you carefully covered her hand with your own. “I want everything to go well.”  “We’ll be together,” you insisted. “That’s good enough for me.”  Her mouth curved at one corner, a grateful look shot your way, her hand turning up so your palms met, her fingers wrapping around yours and squeezing. 

Cassian was impressed with himself, and firmly believed he had every right to be. He hoped both of you would as well. Mother above, he’d sworn an oath to Tarquin for this. 

“The blindfold is a little extreme,” you grumbled, fidgeting with the cloth knot at the back of your head. Cassian gently swatted your hand down.  “We’re almost there.”  Nesta was quiet next to you, her hand steady in yours, but you could nearly taste the anxious energy rolling from her. You gave her what you hoped was a comforting squeeze.  Salt, and sea, and sand hit you at once, along with a scent distinct to one place …  The knot loosened at the back of your head and you tore the cloth off, rapidly taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in Adriata, but it was unmistakably the summer court.  “Cassian,” you hissed, “you’re banned, for life.”  “I promise we’re fine,” he grinned, and produced a paper from his pocket, holding it out to you with a flourish. Nesta peered over your shoulder as you carefully unraveled it. A letter - attesting Cassian and company were allowed to access this beach and a rental vacation home for the next seven days, signed by Tarquin himself. 

poly!Feysand x Reader

Feyre and Rhys argued over where to take you - in their minds, of course. It seemed the only thing they could agree on was to keep it a surprise. You watched them, eyes glazed, but lips pursed - obviously in some kind of mental argument with each other. A crease formed between Feyre's brow, Rhys's lips pressing into a tight line. You didn't like that. Especially considering you were nearly certain it was related to you somehow, otherwise they would've spoken aloud. Clearing your throat, you tried your best to get their attention. Nothing. "Right, I'm heading out," you finally called. Still no response. The sting and small sense of hurt came naturally, and you let the door slam behind you a little louder than you usually would. Rhys's muffled voice came after the slam but you were already out the door. "I'll make it up to you later, darling," Rhys's voice slid into your mind, smooth and full of promise. "I'll look forward to it," you didn't know if it was possible for your voice to be breathy in your own head, but you certainly gave your best impression of it.

Feyre packed for you, of course.

You perched on the edge of the bed as Feyre started rummaging through the drawers. First, she picked up a sundress with thin straps and flowing fabric that would just brush the middle of your thighs - ideal for hot weather. Next came a thick woolen cloak. You tilted your head, catching her eye in the mirror. "How many places are we going?" "Oh," she carefully folded a long sleeved shirt, "just one." Your mouth parted, but she answered the next question for you. "We can't have you spoiling the surprise." A laugh bubbled from your chest. Their secrecy had only made you more determined in turn, and it turned into something of a game for you over the last week.

Rhys had scouted the location no less than six times in the week before, Feyre accompanying him for a few of the trips. He knew it was safe, but with you he had to be certain.

Your back pressed against his chest, his hand covering your eyes, you winnowed - holding your breath at the sensation that never quite felt comfortable. As soon as you hit solid ground, you attempted to peel his fingers away from your eyes, but his grip was firm. "Rhys," you hissed, and he laughed but released you. Jaw dropping, you spun in a circle. Feyre stood with her hands clasped in front of her, shifting back and forth. An island. "Where," you cleared your throat, "where are we?" "An island not far off the coast," Rhys wrapped an arm around your waist, slowly turning you. You felt Feyre smooth fingers grasp your other hand, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. Rhys was still speaking, you realized and focused back in. "You can see Velaris," his voice was laced with a touch of amusement that told you he was well aware your attention wandered. Sure enough, there was a cluster of lights, but appearing barely larger than your fingertip. Twisting your head over a shoulder, you spotted the ... cabin was an understatement. Mini-palace waiting for you. Shrugging away from Rhys's grip, switching to grasp his hand instead, you tugged them both forward, their laughter trailing behind you.

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly!feysand #poly!nessian #acotar drabble #poly!feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x reader #feysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!nessian x y/n #poly!nessian x reader #nessian x y/n #nessian x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #nesta archeron y/n #nesta archeron x reader

[florence-end]

Damsel in distress

Azriel x reader (use of Y/N a couple of times)

Warnings: a little bit suggestive at the end but nothing major

Summary: Rhys and Cassian have been training you to fight and control your powers. They decide to kidnap your mate as a little extra incentive.

You were so so tired. Spending your mornings training with Cassian and your afternoons training with Rhys was more draining than you could have ever predicted when you agreed to letting them help you hone your power, and your lack of progress was really starting to get you down.

Your power was linked to the passage of time; you could slow down everyone around you or make yourself so much faster than them that they couldn’t see you moving. Of course this would be so valuable in a fight… if you could use it. So while Cassian has been teaching you how to fight and strategize physically, Rhys has been teaching you to control your power mentally and manipulate it to your will. You were slowly improving but it’s exhausting and you just wanted one quiet night in with your mate.

Azriel isn’t allowed to partake in your training anymore after Cassian arrived at the training ring to find you both springing apart, hair messy and fresh hickeys on your neck. Rhys was equally displeased when you couldn’t concentrate on his training that afternoon with the memories of your morning with Az still fresh in your mind. The forced separation during the day made your evenings together more precious and you intended to enjoy it.

You and Azriel were curled up together in the library, books open in your hands and steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table in front of you. Your legs were resting across his lap, his thumb rubbing little circles on your knee and your head leaning against his shoulder as you embraced the peace.

The short-lived peace.

In the blink of an eye, Rhysand appeared behind Azriel, making you jump back in surprise. As soon as you were no longer touching your mate, Rhys grabbed his arm and winnowed them both away without a word. You caught a glimpse of the mischievous glimmer in the high lord’s eyes and your mate’s perturbed expression as they disappeared, and were unsurprised to see a note float down to your lap a moment later.

If you want your mate back, you’ll have to fight for him.

Although the magic was Rhys’, the handwriting was Cassian’s messy scrawl so you knew he was in on whatever plan had been hatched. There was no way Rhys would encourage fighting anywhere in the House of Wind other than the training ring, so you hauled yourself up and quickly ascended the stairs that took you up through the house.

As you emerged into the training area, you immediately clocked your mate crudely chained to a chair on the other side of the ring looking equally annoyed and amused. The chains were clearly not locked around him, and although he sent an affectionate tug through your bond when you entered, he didn’t say anything out loud.

Rhys and Cassian stood between you and Azriel in the centre of the training ring, grinning like Cheshire cats. You glanced around to see Feyre and Nesta sat to the sides. “Sorry Y/N, we tried to tell them to leave you alone but you know how they are,” your high lady shrugged apologetically.

“What is going on? You know he can just escape from that, right?” You directed your question to the smug males, gesturing to your bound mate.

“Ah my dear Y/N, he cannot. At our last poker night, I won an unspecified favour from my brother. I’m sure you noticed the new vow brand on his shoulder. I’m calling in said favour tonight, and Azriel is not to speak or stand from his chair until you beat both of us and rescue him,” explained Rhys.

“Rhys,” you whined, stomping your foot like a toddler. “I’m tired and it’s my night off. You already don’t let me see him during the day, you can’t take my evenings too.”

“You’d better save him quickly then kiddo. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Cassian stretched his arms above his head as he settled into a fighting stance. Rhys followed suit.

Sighing, you stepped into the ring.

Az is in danger. I need to save Az. He needs me.

You repeated this over and over again in your mind, willing your power to come to the surface. The two illyrians were beginning to circle you now, preparing to attack, but you couldn’t even muster enough power to slow down a leaf falling from a tree.

Cassian strikes, knocking you to the floor before you could defend yourself. You rolled away from him, springing back to your feet. The girls shouted their disapproval of the rough treatment but you knew Cassian was pulling his punches to avoid any real damage.

The males moved towards you again as you continued to scramble for any tangible magic within your body.

Rhys attacks this time, feinting to one side before whipping around you and pulling your back into his chest, one arm around your neck.

“Come on Y/N, what are you going to do when poor Azzy is really in danger? Are you going to leave him chained in a Hybern dungeon?” You knew he was only taunting to motivate you, but it was working. You could feel your power swirling in your chest and threw your weight forward to free yourself from his grip. Azriel tried to send soothing comfort down the bond to assure you that he wasn’t actually in danger but you slammed up your mental shields to concentrate on your magic.

This time, when Rhys and Cassian lunged at you, you stopped them. They continued to move at a fraction of the speed, and you used your opportunity to swipe their legs out from under them. They caught back up to normal speed as they hit the floor. The girls cheered, and you grinned at their sprawled forms through your gasps for breath as your power drained more of your remaining energy.

The males jumped back to their feet, on the defensive now but you had found your stride. Channeling the magic on yourself this time, you sprinted circles around the Illyrians, moving so fast they could hardly see you. At first, you didn’t attack and instead opted to tire them out as Cassian had taught you. You’d run toward them, feint to the side, and retreat only to attack again. Once, you ran toward Feyre and Nesta, just to show the once-smug warriors that you could reciprocate their actions and take their mates if you wanted. Finally, once sweat dripped from every pore on their faces and you could feel your magic dwindling fast, you pounced on Cassian’s back, pulling him to the ground. Before he could recover, you flipped Rhys into the air, ensuring he landed on top of his brother in a heap. Slowing down your unnatural speed, you looked down on the pile of Illyrian limbs and wings and rested your foot on Rhys’ back in triumph.

“That was so hot!” called Nesta from her seat, glass of wine in hand. She ignored her mate’s protest from underneath the high lord.

“Do you yield?” you asked smugly. The groans from the brothers was agreement enough.

You skipped across the ring to the chair that still held your mate. Pride and love and lust glowed in his eyes and you winked at him as you approached.

“Hey princess, need some help?” you teased as you pulled the chains from his arms and torso.

Az growled, immediately snaking his liberated hands around your waist. “It would be worth getting captured by Hybern if you come to rescue me like that,” he whispered. You giggled and tangled your fingers in his hair.

You could hear the sounds of Feyre and Nesta helping their mates stand up behind you. Despite their groaning, you could hear the pride in their voices as they shouted for you and Az to come down to the balcony for a celebratory drink but you both ignored them.

“Az? Y/N? Come on, let’s go!” Cassian demanded as Nesta fixed his messy bun.

Without looking towards his brothers, Azriel tugged you to straddle his lap and slid his hands down to your ass. You let out a quiet whimper.

“No guys, you know the rule! Not in the training ring!” The General complained as he realised Azriel’s plan for revenge.

Your mate began kissing up your throat to your jawline, making your squirm on his lap.

“Azriel, behave yourself!” demanded the high lord, trying to maintain some of his authority but you could hear the amusement in his voice as Cassian continued to whine.

You finally met Azriel’s lips with your own, feeling his smirk matching yours. Feyre and Nesta whistled as they dragged their complaining Illyrian babies back into the house. You felt Feyre’s whisper of approval against your mental shields and the door swung shut just as Azriel lay you down in the centre of the training ring with only the stars above you.

I hope you enjoyed reading! All feedback is welcome💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you

[surielstea]

Ballroom Secrets (pt. 11)

Based on this request.

Read pt.I here.

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Cassian finds out about readers secret relationship with the High Lord of Autumn.

Warning: Angst | Slight description of depression | hurt/comfort | happy ending

5.6k words

A/N: Sorry this is so long 😭😭 I just really wanted to get the angst right so it got long quick, hope you enjoy! :)

I sat in the sitting room of the river house cuddled up next to Morrigan who was splitting a bottle of wine with me.

"Where'd you get this?" Mor asks, pinching the silk of my new dress between her hands. "Oh I'm not sure, it was a gift." I smile, remembering the way Eris handed it to me for no particular reason other than the fact that he wanted to take it off of me. "From who?" Feyre asks in her own chair, Rhysand standing beside her, leaning against the arm rest. My mouth goes dry.

"It's a male, look at the way she's blushing." Azriel hummed, leaning back against the wall. I cast him a glare but he only returns it with a soft smile. "The same male that gave you this?" Mor points to my neck. "Gave her what?" Cassian perks up from his sprawled out position on the couch, Nesta's feet in his lap. "Yeah, what?" I look to Mor confused. "A hickey." A smirk curves her lips and I slap my hand over where the mark lies.

"By who?" Nesta sits up, gods even she was interested. "No one, I don't know— just some guy." I stumble over my words, cursing myself for my horrible lie. Azriel nearly laughs and rightfully so, his shadows were probably picking up on every nerve that tensed in my body.

"Is that why you've been missing training?" Cassian raised a brow and I can't will the words to leave my mouth. I've always been a horrible liar, Eris has tried to teach me his ways of deceit but it was no use when every time I tried to be quick witted or malevolent it failed miserably and I made a fool of myself. "I've been missing training because you schedule it for the asscrack of dawn." I grumble, half truths however were my forte. Cassian narrows his eyes on me and I swallow thickly. "Oh leave her alone already, let the girl have her fun." Amren speaks up and I silently thank every god I can think of. "Cauldron knows she's had the three of you Illyrians hovering over her shoulder since she was born." The eldest of us finalizes and the conversation thankfully ends there.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I was in the middle of reading a novel in my bedroom of the river house when a note fluttered down onto my chest, appearing from thin air. A soft smile comes to my lips as I close the book and pick up the note, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

Will you be home soon?

I twist my lips to the side and dwell over the question before flipping on my side to grab a pen from my nightstand. I quickly write back and watch the note disappear from my hands.

I'm waiting for everyone to fall asleep, we're all night owls evidently.

It takes only a minute for him to reply and the words on the paper make me audibly giggle.

Drug them. I miss you, and I'm tired.

Can't sleep without me?

Apparently not. I smile widely at the sentiment. I'll leave soon, just for you.

Soon isn't soon enough

I roll my eyes at his childish impatience but a smile forms over my face as I write out my retort.

Shut your whining up, I'm trying to read

You're so mean to me (I like it)

I don't write back, deciding that if I say anything else he might winnow here himself just to take me back, which wouldn't be good. I opened my book back up but as soon as I was getting back into the story there was a knock at my door. I sigh and use Eris' note as a bookmark before shutting it. "Come in." I call, sitting up.

Cassian enters, taking up the whole entry way as he shuts the door behind him. I smile at my brother as he looks to me with his warm hazel eyes. "I thought you were going to bed?" He creases his brows skeptically and I roll my eyes. "I say that, and then I read my romance novels." I lift up my book and it was his turn to roll his eyes, taking a seat on my bed.

Cassian isn't my brother by blood, but he might as well be. I can't remember a time when he wasn't taking care of me. When he was only seven years old he offered me shelter in his tent. I was six and lost, my parents deserting me, or so I presumed. He tucked me under his wing and shielded me from the rain until arriving back to the tent. He snuck me food from Windhaven and even stole maids clothes off of laundry lines. If it weren't for him I most likely wouldn't be alive today, ever since then he's been particularly protective of me, even towards friends from other courts. I wasn't Illyrian either, but he always said I acted like one. Perhaps that was an insult, but I took it as a compliment.

"What's up?" I shift in my bed so my legs dangle over the side and he's right beside me. "We haven't talked in awhile, I miss you." It was true. It feels like it's been months since it's been just him and I. Realization dawns upon me that all of my free time has gone to Eris, he's my mate sure, but that doesn't mean I want to leave the rest of my family in the past.

"I know. I'm sorry." I lean my head on his shoulder. "I've been busy." I murmur, fiddling with my hands.

"Alright, Who's the lucky guy— or gal, I don't discriminate." He hums and my heart drops. Gods I did not want to expose my relationship with Eris right now. Not ever. "Can we not talk about this right now?" I say, my voice gentle and pleading. "C'mon, you used to tell me everything." He groans and I lift my head from his shoulder, my hands coming to my knees to stop from fidgeting. "This is different." I shrug.

"How so?"

His question is met with silence, I was weighing whether or not I should just kick him out and tell him I'm tired. He'd leave if I asked. But I didn't want him to, just didn't want to talk about this.

"I'd like to meet who's got my sister glowing like this." He bumps my side with his. "Doubt it." I grumble, then curse myself for letting that slip. "What's that supposed to mean?" He snorts a laugh and I look at him nervously, gripping my knees tighter as his smile slowly drops. "I've met him?" He arches a brow and all I can do is slowly nod. Is this it? All that sneaking around summing up to this very moment? "Do I like this guy?" He guesses like this is a game and the health of our friendship isn't in my hands. "Not really, no." I answer honestly, lying is impossible and staying silent will only cause his thoughts to drive him mad.

"Well if he's got you this happy, I'm willing to reevaluate." He shrugs, carefree. He clearly doesn't understand the situation. "It's not that simple." I shake my head, looking away from him and back to my lap. "Talk to me, I won't judge." He reaches over, placing his calloused hand on my clenched ones. "Promise." He gives them a reassuring squeeze. A pit forms in my stomach. My nails dig into the skin of my knees and he understands, pulling his hand away. My eyes widen and I can only pray he doesn't hate me for this.

"Before I tell you, try not to be too mad okay?" I crease my brows, swallowing thickly and looking to him. "Uh, okay?" He looks at me foolishly. "I'm serious." I stress with wide eyes. "Okay, okay, I won't be mad." He promises and I force myself to take a deep breath. This truth that I've been hiding for nearly a year now about to be exposed. All because I forgot to glamour a fucking hickey on my neck. Gods how could I have been so stupid?

I realize the quiet has been dragging on for far too long and that if I don't tell him now I never will.

"Eris."

Silence. He doesn't make a sound and he doesn't move. A weight lifts from my shoulders and for a second it's bliss. "What?" His voice lacks emotion and a new weight envelopes me. Fuck. "Eris is the male I've been secretly seeing." It comes out in a pitiful whisper. "Are you mad?" I was quick to ask, but he doesn't reply for a long moment. Allowing me to think of everything I've done. All that I've risked just to be with my mate, to be happy.

"Please tell me you're talking about another Eris." He tries to remain calm but I can hear it, the quiver of his voice, the clenching of his fists. I shake my head no and I swore I could feel the heat radiating off of him, pure anger. "You promised you wouldn't be mad!" I stand to look at him, a fire in his eyes that is pure rage.

"Well that was before you let that bastard into your bed." He stands and my neck cranes up to keep eye contact, the power dynamics making my legs wobble. Gods I felt useless.

"It's not like that—" I try to defend but he doesn't let me finish. "What? Don't tell me you think he's in love with you?" He scoffs like it's the most improbable thing on the continent. Tears well in my eyes at the idea. "You don't know him." I defend. "I don't want to, for all I know he's probably using you for a good fuck—" He starts. "Stop it." I demand and he clamps his mouth shut. "He's better than you think." I will my voice not to break. "Has he brainwashed you? You can't be serious." He nearly laughed at the idea. I don't say anything, allowing him to get his anger out before I plead my case.

"Or have you forgotten what he's done to Morrigan?" A shutter racks through me and I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes. "That story isn't true." I rasped but I doubt he hears me. I must sound insane to him. "Do you know who his parents are? How you'll be treated if you ever married him?" He goes on but it's not true, none of what he says is true. "You'll be a fucking brood mare, forced to give sons over and over again. Do you understand that?" His hand comes to my shoulders, squeezing tightly. "He's not Beron. We've talked about it, he doesn't even want kids unless I'm willing to give that to him." My words are just above a whisper and he lets go of my shoulders like he's repulsed, as if I hold a virus and he doesn't want to get infected.

"It doesn't matter. Eventually you become parents." He whispered. "You really believe that? Tell that to Rhys. To Morrigan, or Azriel. Tell that to fucking Nesta." I grit out, whipping my head up to look at him and his hypocritical statements. I allow him to see the fury in my eyes, the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Leave her out of this." He narrows his eyes on me.

The first argument to this level we ever had was over his mate. I hated her, loathed every part of her and what she made my brother go through— and now she's one of my most trusted friends and one of my favorite people. A laugh escapes from my body. I must've looked crazy finding amusement at a time like this. "It's the same thing." I bring my hands up to wipe my tears. "Gods were so fucking predictable." I sigh out. He looks at me confused, eyes analyzing my body language. "Nesta is just like him, and you know it." I narrow my brows at him. "This is different." He clenches his fists at his sides. "How so? Give me one good reason as to how this is different?" I will him. "Eris hurt Mor." He says the crime like it's dirt in his mouth. "Nesta hurt Feyre." I reason with him. He grits his teeth. "He hates Illyrians. He hates you and I because of where we come from, do you understand how fucked that is?" His hands come to my wrists, as if pleading me to listen.

"His father hates Illyrians." I correct. "And stop saying I'm an Illyrian I'm not." I pull at his grip but it's iron. "Fine. But he hates me, are you picking sides right now?" His brows crease like I've betrayed him. "No! I—" My breath gets caught halfway up my throat. "I don't want to pick sides, I want both." Tears continue falling and I don't bother wiping them away anymore. "And Nesta hated the Fae entirely, don't be so certain that makes them different." I seethe out at him and he narrows his eyes at me. "We're mates. Nesta and I are cauldron willed, you can't ignore something like that." He says and I stare at him unwavering, not bothering to say anything but rather dropping my glamour around the mating bond connected straight to the high lord of Autumn.

His eyes widen and his grip on my wrists loosens but I don't pull away. "No," His voice is a whisper. I nod. "Reject the bond, you deserve better than him I don't care if you love him." He rules. "I already accepted it, nearly half a year ago." I expose. If I was going to be honest I might as well lay it all out. "Half a year?" He rasps and I nod gravely. "You've been lying to me for half of a fucking year?" His tone is louder, more angry. "I don't understand why you care so deeply, I gave you my reasons now leave it alone." I match his lever of voice. "Why I care? I've always cared, you're my family—" He begins and I tear my wrists from his grasp. "You're not even my real brother!" I yell at him and I swore the world stopped spinning. Pain flashes across his eyes and he stumbles back, his mouth falling open before he clamps it shut and swallows thickly.

"Cass I didn't—" I try. "No." He looks at me like he's never seen me before. "You've made your point clear." He walks to the door. Every fiber of my being wants to beg him to stay. But my feet can't move and I stare aimlessly as he leaves, the door clicking shut with a gut wrenching softness. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I use whatever remaining energy I have left to winnow back to my apartment. Where I knew Eris impatiently waited for me to return. I land wobbly on my feet, tears slowly cascading from the wells of my eyes. Eris who was laid on the couch with a book sat up alarmed. I remove the walls around our bond and allow the misery that overwhelmed me to flood into his end of our connection.

He rushes toward me alarmed, fire raging in his eyes but not toward me, toward whoever made me feel this way. "Eris," I murmur, I was sure I was going to collapse. "My love," He brings a hand to my waist, keeping me steady but that didn't stop a choked sob from escaping me. "What's wrong?" His other hand comes to my cheek, wiping away my tears. "Talk to me." His brows crease and this feels so wrong, seeking comfort in the very reason Cassian is mad at me in the first place.

"He knows." I whisper. "Who knows?" His brows crease in confusion, before they relax with realization. I grip his shirt in my fists, looking up at him like a lost animal. "I'm a horrible sister." I confess, my voice breaking on the final word. "No," He shakes his head, pulling me into his chest, holding me close and warming me up. "No love, don't say that." He whispered into my hair, his arms tight around me.

Another sob racks through me but he doesn't shush me, he allows the dam of tears to break and every emotion I've kept bottled up for the past half year comes flowing out.

I tell him everything. From the moment Mor noticed the hickey to the point when Cassian left my bedroom. My voice shook when telling him of what I said to my brother. "And now I'm here and, and I don't know what to do." I sobbed, looking up at him as he ran a hand through the ends of my hair. "I see." His voice is soft, caring. "I was so mad, I wasn't thinking and with all the words he said about you I just— I hated him at that moment." I cup my mouth at the realization. I never wanted to hate anyone, especially not someone I love so much. I never want to feel that uncontrollable emotion ever again.

"It's not your fault." He stresses. "We'll figure this out together alright?" His thumb traces along my cheek and I nod, blinking away my final tears. "But what if he never wants to talk to me again?" I whisper. "What if he hates me?" My lip quivers at the thoughts, I don’t know how I’d live with myself if Cassian ever hated me. "Your brother loves you too much to ever consider that. Alright?" His hands grip my face slightly as if to stress his point and I nod meekly, slipping my hands around his waist again and hugging him tightly.

He releases a deep sigh and hugs me back, his touch warming my skin in a way that comforted me more than he could ever know. In the hug I begin to wonder how he feels about the world knowing. I hoped he knew how much he’s helping me, how much I appreciated that he’s here for me. Then I realized that he might be thinking of leaving for my benefit, so I can return to Cassian and tell him everything he said about Eris was right and I can stay with my family. I didn’t want that. Gods, why can’t I have both? The cauldron must’ve been playing a cruel joke on me. "Please, don't leave." I beg of him. He bends down and places a hard kiss to the temple of my head. "Never." But he would, if I asked.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next few days were long. I barely slept, every time I tried I'd be reminded of the words I spat at Cassian. I couldn't face him, didn't dare go back to the River House, much less the House of Wind. I stayed in bed, staring out the window of my bedroom, watching the sunset shining against the Sidra, the water refracting in rainbows as stars awakened in the sky. Another day passes.

I felt hollow, my limbs heavy and my stomach a pit. I knew I'd have to face Cassian soon, see him and the others. I wonder if he told them, warned them all to no longer speak to me. All because of who I'm in love with. Anger consumed me for a few days, thinking him deserving for what I said. Who was he to pick who I can and cannot love? I spent hours cursing him as a hypocritical bastard, spewing lies to convince myself I was in the right.

I slowly came to, deciding I needed to stop avoiding my own fate and face what truly lies at the root of the problem. The rest of the days of my solitude was spent in grief.

Feeling sorry for myself wasn't any better than the raging nights. It was truly pitiful how I ended up here.

There was a knock at the door frame. I didn't have to look to guess it was my mate. "I'm not hungry Eris." I say plainly, continuing to stare out at the river. "Have you eaten today?" I don’t expect his voice to be behind me as he slithers into the bed beside me, curling an arm around my waist. “I had a bowl of soup not too long ago.” I answer, flipping onto my side to look up at him. His golden eyes that rolled with sadness, he couldn’t help blaming himself for my situation and I hated that he did. “Okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I have to return to Autumn later tonight, high lord stuff.” He grumbled and I groaned, tucking closer to him. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He promised. I huff, wrapping an arm around his torso and burrowing into his chest. “Unless, you want to come with me?” He arched a brow and I look up at him, my head propped up on his chest. “To the Autumn court?” I ask. He nods, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I haven’t been to my mates court since Eris’ coronation because it’d raise suspicion if a girl from Rhysand’s inner circle began to roam the markets of the foreign court. But I suppose that didn’t matter now if our secrets out. “You think your people will react well?” I ask anxiously. “After my father ruled over them they’ll take anything they can get, and if a pretty high lady is an option I think they’ll be over the moon.” He offers me a gentle smile. “High lady?” I can’t help but smile at the idea of ruling a court together. He nods. I fantasize about the idea for a moment, until the thought of Cassian finding out about me proudly wearing an autumn court crown settles over me. He’d fall into a fit of pure rage and I’d never forgive myself. “Can we wait?” I ask. “Just until all this is resolved with Cass, and then yes. I’d love to be your high lady.” I nod. He gives me a comforting expression. “Of course my love.” He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. I him against the action and kiss him back. Wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. His lips slotted perfectly against mine and the feeling that bloomed in my chest when kissing him filled the pit of my stomach and the hollowness of my heart. I felt lighter. A knock sounds at the front door, loud and demanding. My ears perk at the sound and I pull back, he seems to want to chase my mouth back to his but he freezes too when another impatient knock rings through the house.

I sigh and sink down into the bed. "You can answer it." I say, removing my arms from his neck. "Are you sure?" He asks, his own warm arms slipping from my waist and I wished they didn’t. "They all know by now, what's the point of hiding it?" I grumble, and he nods as he stands from the bed, my eyes watching him as he does so. "Alright." He nods. “If it’s not Cassian I’m not interested.” I voice. He glances to me and only nods in reply.

He leaves the room and my eyes go back to the window. I strain my ears to hear for the voices in the living room but I can only hear Eris.

"She doesn't want to see you." He said. A mumble of a voice replied, it was soft, must be female. My hope diminished when I realized it's not my brother. "In the bedroom." Is the next thing I hear from my mate and I mentally prepare for whoever is about to walk into my room.

The door creeks open but I don't move. I stay looking out the window, watching as dusk now takes over the sky. "Gods its dark in here." Nesta.

I don't have the energy to reply, giving her enough of an answer with my silence. "Look, I know I'm not who you want to see, but he's in a similar state as you." She hums and that fact settles deep into my bones. I adjust, sitting up and facing her, leaning back against my headboard.

"He throws up every night too?" I ask with a wry sense of humor. Nesta tossed a glare toward Eris who stood at the doorway like a guard.

"No, much worse. He won't stop training." She hums, crossing her arms and sitting on the edge of the bed beside my thighs. Her eyes go distant as she thinks about her mate. "He's spent more time in the training ring than sleeping as of late, he doesn't joke anymore, and I haven't seen him smile in a week." She confesses, her brows creased in concern.

"Are you telling me this to try and make me feel better?" I murmur, avoiding her gaze.

"You know me better than that." She scoffs. It was true, Nesta is one of my best friends. The three Valkyries all are, but especially the eldest Archeron. I remember all the things I said about her, how I boiled her down to all of her faults. The hollowness returns and another thing I will never forgive myself about forms. "I care about you, but I care about him more." She stands up, Eris growls from the doorway but I wave him off, understanding what she meant. "And I just need the two of you to figure your shit out so he goes back to his usual self, it’s so quiet at the house." She crosses her arms over her chest defensively but her tone is soft. "He misses you." She reveals. "He won't admit it but he wants to see you, stop by the house, please." She finalizes, before turning on her heel and walking towards the door.

"Nesta," I call, she whirls around to look at me. "Thank you." Is all I can get out. She nods, then turns back around and exits the way she came.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The house of wind was emptier than I expected it to be. Eris offered a dozen times to come with me last night, saying that he’d cancel his meetings in the Autumn court so he can offer some sort of support but I told him he had to tend to his own court, that I had to do this on my own. So here I was, about an entire day after Nesta's speech, ready to face my brother. Or at least I hoped I was.

I wandered the halls, stretching ny hearing for any sound but I was met with nothing. I remember Nesta mentioning the training ring so I ascend the steps to the roof.

The clang of metal swords clash loudly as I welcome myself onto the landing, staring at my brother and Azriel who were sparring just to get frustration out. Cassian was sloppy with his moves, not breathing through each step the way he usually did. And Azriel was going easy on him. It was rare for the competitive shadow singer to sympathize but in this instance he was working Cassian like a charity case. The general knew it too and only fueled more of that anger he held in each of his swings.

Azriel and I make eye contact and his movements freeze, shadows pooling at my feet as Cassian struck him down and pinned him with his sword. "Again." My brother demanded, reaching his hand out toward the spymaster. Azriel remained looking at me and with the distraction, Cassian whirled around to look at me with narrowed eyes that quickly turned wide.

His sword clattered down onto the mat as he let it slip from his hand. "Cass." My voice is a rasp. He takes a step out of the training ring until he's right in front of me and I'm looking up at him again.

Tears well in my eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said I just—" I tried to speak but was cut off by his large arms wrapping around me tightly into a warm hug. I melt into it, releasing a soft sigh of relief and hugging him back. "You were right." He confesses. "I was just hurt and wasn't thinking about how you might be feeling." He mutters into my hair. "No you were right to be mad," I shake my head. "I kept it a secret from you for a long time, I should tell you everything." I admit and he backs away from the hug.

"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things, I reacted poorly." He sighs. "I did too, the things I said about Nesta were uncalled for. You know I love her." I say with tearful eyes. “I know, it’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing me tighter and lifting me up off the ground slightly with his height. "But, I'm not sorry for being with Eris." I assert as he places me back on the ground and he backs away. His eyes soften and he wipes a stray tear from my face. "I know, it'll take some time for me to get used to but I want you to be happy." He utters and that's all I needed to hear. "I can't promise he'll be invited to all the family dinners." He scratches the side of his neck and I offer him a relaxed smile. "That's okay," I nod my head. "I doubt he'd want to come anyways." I shrug. "The prick should consider himself lucky for even being able to look at you." Cassian grumbles. I give him a reprimanding look and he puts his hands up like he's been caught for a crime. "Sorry, I'll be better." He promises. "Thank you, brother." I pull him closer into another hug. "Means the world to me." I mumble and he presses a kiss to the crown of my head the way he's always done for the past five hundred years.

"You're sweaty." I grimace, breaking away from his hug. I lean to the side of him to see Azriel waiting impatiently for him to return to the training ring. "Do me a favor?" I look up at him. "Anything." He hums without hesitation. "Kick Az's ass for me?" I arch a brow and a menacing smile curves his lips. "I heard that!" Azriel calls from a few yards away, dammed shadows.

I look at the blue siphoned male glaring at me as Cassian retreats back to his sword. I blow the spy master a kiss and he waves me off. I smile contentedly and winnow back home.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Eris leaned against the kitchen counter with a furrow in his brow, waiting impatiently for me to return. I was surprised at his early arrival, he said he’d be home tonight but the sun had barely left the horizon. I suppose he wanted to return as soon as possible. He pushed off the counter and looks at me expectantly. A bright smile curves my lips and I jump into his arms, he catches me without so much as a stumble back, his warm hands coming under my thighs and heating me up like a cozy fire. "Everything's okay?" He asks worriedly, I don't reply and instead bring my hands up to his sharp cheekbones and pull him in for a kiss.

It was soft and lasting, like he was afraid I was going to tell him to leave after this ends. That Cassian somehow convinced me my mate was some maniacal creature who didn't deserve love. He wouldn't blame me, he'd go if I asked him and that fact is tearing at me. So I deepened our kiss, pulling him closer with a hope to reassure him.

"Please tell me everything's okay." He begs against my lips and I nod. "Everything's okay." I whisper with a small smile and he releases a hefty sigh, the weight of a world lifting from his shoulders. "Cass said he'd try his best. But then he followed up by saying you're a prick so?" I scrunch my nose at the way it sounds and he grins widely. "Sounds about right." He nods, placing me atop the countertop.

"Thank you." I say, wrapping my legs around him. "For what my dear?" His brows crease. "You took care of me when I was at my worst, I appreciate it." I softly say, his eyes glaze over for a moment but the sheen quickly disappears after he blinks. "You would've done the same thing for me." He shakes his head, leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of my lips. "I think I'll miss sneaking around with you." He admits and I chuckle. "Me too, but think about all the things we can do now that we don't have to be a secret?" I grin wildly at all the possibilities. His eyes light up and a smirk curves his sensual lips.

"What?" I ask him nervously when he doesn't say anything. "How would you like to be crowned high lady now?" He suggests and my cheeks heat. "But you've already been crowned, can we still do that?" I tilt my head. "It's my court love, I can do whatever I want." His arrogant tone makes me roll my eyes. "And what do you want?" I tilt my head, running my hands through the tufts of his deep auburn hair. "I want you on my throne." He purred, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "That can be arranged." I grin, throwing my arms over his shoulders.

"Anything else high lord?" I give him a seductive smile and he gets the hint. "I also want to fuck you by the fireplace." He confessed, pressing light kisses up the side of my face. "Then what are you waiting for?"

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#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #x you #fanfic #sequel fic #suriels tea

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 4: Lost in history /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: The research for a way to send her back started, but they come to the conclusion that there's only one person that can help them now.

Word Count: 2,1K

Warnings: Just our babygirl Y/N being sad.

Notes: We have some Elriel content and i admit that it feels werid writing about them but soon things will change hehehehe

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

“This is all I have that mentions other worlds.” The red headed female from yesterday's training spoke, her red hair was covered by a blue hoodie, a stone resting peacefully against her forehead. Just like Petrah wore too. 

“Thank you..” She motioned for the female so she could tell her name.

“Gwyneth, but you can call me Gwyn.” She nodded. 

“Thanks, Gwyn.” The female smiled at her, before spinning on her heels and leaving her alone, walking away.

That morning, Rhysand had appeared again, she had to hold herself as she stared at those violet eyes, he wasn’t like Maeve, he already proved that. He had told her that they were already looking for answers, ways of getting her back to her world. She had asked him how she could help, and that’s how she ended down there.

The priestesses walked around in silence, their dresses rustling against the marble floors, books and more books adorned the walls, the smell of dust and parchment filled the cavernous space. Aelin Galathynius would love a library like that one. The two had discovered a common interest in books during the time she spent in Orynth. 

The dream of creating their own book club felt like a very distant memory now. She was rather fond of the Queen, Aelin was just amazing, and she saw her for what she truly was, a survivor, just like Y/N. So young having to deal with all of that, she admired her strength, the courage to wake up everyday and fight for the world she wanted.

She shook her head, thinking about it wouldn’t help, and she would just be sad, more than she already was. So she stuck her nose on the pages and read everything she could about other worlds. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

She closed the last book with an annoyed growl. Nothing. Absolutely nothing helpful on those pages. She wanted to bang her head against the nearest wall, the whole fucking day spent in theories, nothing concrete in how to access those said worlds. 

“Nothing?” A deep voice sounded, she turned her head, Cassian was standing there. “I won’t say we're having much more success than you.” She took a deep breath, getting up and stretching her muscles.

“I sat here for hours and not a single thing was useful. For a library that big, someone would think you have more information than that.” She started to follow the male. 

“Thank you, I've been saying that for centuries.” He led the way towards the endless stairs that would take them back to the surface.

“How old are you exactly?” His head turned to the side just enough so he could see her from his peripheral vision. 

“I’m 539 years old.” She stopped in her tracks. “I know it sounds old for such a young female like you.” He turned fully to her.

“How old do you think I am?” A smile danced on her lips.

“I don’t know, 22?” She then laughed, walking past him, starting to go upstairs to get out of that library. 

“Thank you, but I'm 105.” She explained and Cassian gasped loudly. 

“You’re not.” She nodded her head.

“I am. Witches tend to age very slowly.” She emphasised the world very, and Cassian found himself intrigued. Obviously they also aged slowly, but he didn't imagine the same happened in her world as well. 

The rest of the way was silent, as they made their way towards the House of Wind, as Nesta had introduced yesterday. The house responsible for her warm bath and fresh clothes this morning as well. She had thanked the house quietly, but Azriel had caught the faint whispers, so used to them, thinking it was very sweet of her. 

More people had joined the dinner, the smell of food lingered in the air, conversations floated around and she found herself surrounded by more strangers. A female holding a baby that looked like a younger version of Nesta. A black male with white hair, sitting by the side of a small female with silver eyes and short hair. 

She greeted all of them, introducing herself and waiting for them to do the same. The male was called Varian and Amren was by his side. Feyre and Nyx were High Lady and heir to the night court. They all looked at her with curiosity, everyone seemed to look at her like this lately, even when she was back at her home. 

“So you are the pretty female that the skies blessed us with.” Amren spoke. She reminded her of Lin, with her narrow eyes and deep black hair. 

“Amren, will you keep what I told you in secret, please?” Morrigan exclaimed, sipping on her wine. The smaller female just rolled her eyes, waving her hand in dismissal.

“Well, I guess so.” She poked a piece of lamb. Her goblet filled with wine but she craved something else. She craved blood. 

“Hopefully you had more success than us.” Feyre spoke, her sweet voice sounding like a fresh breeze. The baby slept clutched to her chest. Y/N knew she was staring at him, but she didn’t care, her memories drifting to a distant time, where a baby just as tiny as him never had the chance to live, and she paid a bitter price for her actions. 

“I.. hmm…” She cleared her throat, everyone was waiting for an answer, their eyes glued to her. Her scar throbbed with the attention and she had to hold back from flinching with the pain that pulsates on the skin. “No, I have found nothing useful.” She concluded, sipping on the wine, making a frown at the taste, blood tasted way better. 

“Not fond of wine?” Amren mocked, like she knew exactly what she wanted. 

“I just like something a little bit different, that’s all.” She didn’t want to disrespect them in their home, Asterin would be disappointed if she did so. So she downed the wine with the food, pretended to participate in their conversations and watched as the night progressed out of the window.

“We need to check Koschei.” Rhysand spoke, this caught her attention and she started to listen again. “It’s been weeks, we need to know what he’s been up to.” The name caused her blood to run cold, she didn’t know what, but something about this creature left her on alert.

“Who is Koschei?” She asked, their heads turning to her, Rhysand shared a look with his mate, like they were having a silent conversation before he spoke again. 

“He’s a powerful sorcerer bound to a lake.” He started. 

“For now.” Morrigan corrected. 

“Yes, for now. We want to defeat him before he becomes an even bigger problem than he already is.” She studied them, how the whole table felt tense with the conversation, like they were afraid of this thing, something told Y/N that she should feel afraid too. 

“Maybe he knows something.” Nesta started. “He’s from another world as well.”

“What? Do you want to go there and ask him how to open a portal to another world?” Amren mocked and Nesta gave her a hurtful look. 

“No, but maybe we can find a book about him, someone that knows his history or something like that.” She defended herself.

“Nesta is right.” Cassian spoke, hand squeezing her thigh under the table. “We’re already looking for a way to free Vassa, we can ask Lucien to try and help with this too.” 

“That is a great idea. I’ll send him a letter, it’s already time for him to visit us.” Feyre chimed in, her blue eyes sparking with happiness at the thought of seeing Lucien again, it’s been months since he left with the Band of Exiles. “You’re going to love Lucien.” She turned to Y/N.

“If you think so.” Meeting more people, she was so excited for that. With a loud yawn, she excused herself and retired to her room, she had to wake up early to go for a ride on Meraxes, she could hear the winds calling for her.  

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

“I swear there’s nothing going on.” Azriel promised, but Elain still refused to hear him. After their argument the day before, she had come looking for him in the training field, just to find her glued to his back, and Azriel allowing it as she claimed.

“What I saw yesterday would love to disagree with you.” She poked her untouched food, they were in a reserved table on a restaurant across the Rainbow, he just wanted that argument to be over. 

“It was just training, my flower.” He begged, rubbing his hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself, he didn’t know what else he could say to convince her. “You chose me and I chose you, despite everything, that female cannot change that.” 

If he only knew how wrong he was. She looked at him with that spark in her eyes, hands clutching his scarred ones and bringing to her pink lips in a sweet kiss.

“You are right, she’s not better than me and she never will.” His shadows moved as if they disagreed, they were always quiet in Elain’s presence and he never knew why. They didn’t darted towards her like they did with Y/N more times than he could count in the short period she was there.

“Yeah, let’s just eat and go home, please.” He begged and Elain nodded.

The rest of the dinner felt bitter against his lips, his head throbbed and when he rested his hands on her lower back to lead the way home, it felt wrong, so wrong. He swallowed the feelings and kept trying to convince himself that he chose this, this is what he wanted. Three sisters to three brothers or whatever. 

Elain’s hands cupped his cheek, and she lifted her body to the tip of her toes, kissing him lightly on the lips, saying her good night to him, disappearing into her room at the River House. 

He closed the door behind him, flying towards the House of Wind in a starless sky, dark clouds covering the beautiful night. When he landed on the balcony, he slowly stalked towards his room, but his shadows urged him away from it, towards the library. 

From the open arch on the stone wall, he could see her, a tiny nightgown covering her body, some strands falling loose from her braid. A book clutched in hands as she sat against a window, eyes glued to the sky. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He said, his voice hoarse. She turned to him, those beautiful eyes penetrating his soul. She closed her book.

“There’s a storm coming.” She raised her finger, pointing outside. 

“How do you know?” Stars still littered the sky from where he could see. 

“I can hear it's calling.” Azriel nodded. She had a defeated expression on her face, all he wanted to do was to soothe the furrowed eyebrows and tell her everything would be fine. “Do you think I'll ever find my way home?” Tears glistened in the moonlight, burning her eyes. 

“I don’t know.” He answered with honesty, he didn’t have the answer for that, and as much as he wanted to help her, something inside him didn’t want her to go back. He shushed that part of him, hiding them in the shadows of his heart. 

“I wonder if they miss me.” She looked outside again, ever since Asterin died, she felt like she lost her space in the world, like she didn’t belong anywhere, if she disappeared would anyone notice? Would they find a way to get her back? All those questions and self doubt weighed on her soul, crushing her until she couldn’t breathe. She blinked the tears away. 

“I’m sure they do.” She could hear the pity in his tone, and she hated that, she knew that if she looked at him he would have that look on his face, the one everyone had when they looked at her. Manon, Fenrys, Aelin, Shearah, Elide and all of them, the same pitiful glare reserved just for her. She didn’t want to face that here as well.

So she got up, leaving the book behind and walked past him, as fast as the winds, but his warm hand caught her arm, forcing her to stop. Her head whipped back, eyes locking with his golden ones. 

“I’m so sorry if I offended you.” His voice was gentle, calming.

“I don’t need your pity.” She barked in anger. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” He promised, and she just nodded, freeing herself from his grip, going to her room, locking the door and throwing herself under the blankets. The skin of her arm felt warm where he had touched. And that night, after tossing and tuning for what felt like an eternity, she dreamed about that male again.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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#acotar #sarahjmaas #azriel shadowsinger #moonlightazriel #azriel x y/n #velaris #night court #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #worlds apart fic

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Under a Star-Flecked Sky

Author's Note: This was supposed to be some Rhysand x Reader fluff, but the depression brain-rot got the better of me and I wrote some angsty, post-UtM Rhys moments instead (don't worry there is some fluff at the end). My baby just needs a hug, and honestly I think SJM did him dirty by brushing his trauma Under the Mountain under the rug.

Warnings: Mentions of Amarantha, Rhys' Post-UtM Trauma

Summary: You're Rhys' mate, having already been with him before the Mountain, and are navigating Rhys' healing journey as best you can.

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

The bed was cold; the realization jarring you from the deep clutches of sleep. Your bed was never cold, not when your mate was in it. Rhysand ran warm, your own personal heater, usually spending the night curled around you, cocooned inside the safety of his wings, but those great wings and the male attached to them were nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed empty, the sheets rumpled, blanket haphazardly clinging to the side of the mattress like he'd flung it off in a hurry, even though you hadn't heard him get up.

You sat up, shivering in the chill coming through the open windows, the satin curtains billowing in the autumn breeze. It would be too cold to leave them open soon, a fact you knew often put your mate on edge, especially after...

You called for him down the bond you shared with your mate, worried. It had been a couple months since Rhys had returned home to Velaris after Amarantha; the nightmares had been constant the first couple of weeks, at one point they had gotten so bad he'd started spending the night at the Moonstone Palace, claiming he had work to do to avoid you and the rest of the Inner Circle from seeing him like that, but with some help from Madja and some other healers in the city he'd been able to get a handle on it. Usually. Some nights were worse than others. You'd tried to be as supportive as possible, even going down to the Library to read up on ways to help. There were calming teas you'd started making for him before bed, the recipe tucked in one of those old books, but you suspected Rhys drank it just to make you feel like you were helping, the cup still half full on the bedside table. You'd drifted off shortly after handing it to him last night.

When there was no answer down the bond, you crawled out of the bed, dragging the blanket with you. The black silk slip you wore did nothing to stave off the cold, you'd worn the birthday gift from Rhys down to its threads over the years he was gone. He'd offered to buy you a new one--multiple in more colors--but you'd refused. It was your favorite, you'd find some magic to keep it held together if you had to. Still, it was the wrong time of the year for it, and you opted to stay warm under the blanket instead of pausing to change into something else as you left the room in search of your mate, still calling for him down the bond.

He gave no answer, his end silent. As silent as it had been for the last 50 years, that great, formidable wall of adamant shielding him from you.

You bit your lip as you checked each room in the house, all empty, save for the one Cassian was snoring in at the end of the Hall. They'd started taking turns sleeping over, keeping an eye on their brother. Azriel had stayed the night before, Mor the night before that. They stole your wine and played old board games until the early hours of the morning, trying to get Rhys' to laugh, or smile at the least. He didn't do a lot of that these days.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. He'd been through so much and half the time he'd just shut down and shut you out, unable to explain what had happened. What she had done to him. Most nights you wondered if there was a way to let you into Hell, just so you could kill her a second time. You'd had a long time to think about what you'd do if you ever had the chance to get your hands on her. Not that it mattered in the end, you'd never been able to get into the Mountain. You'd failed him then and it was starting to feel like you were failing him again now as you all but sprinted through the house.

It took longer than you would like to admit to notice that the balcony doors in the living room were open. Rhys left the windows open, never the doors, even if Velaris was the safest place in Prythian, he'd never leave you vulnerable like that, not unless he was nearby.

Tears pricked your eyes, your lower lip bleeding from how hard you'd been biting down on it as you stepped out into the frigid night air. The lounge chairs and tables along the edge were all empty, no glass of Rhys' favorite whiskey in sight.

Your heart thundered in your ears, thoughts racing. Where the hell was he? Had something happened? Was he in danger?

You were about to start calling his name in desperation before a shifting tile on the roof caught your attention. One of the pieces had been knocked loose--a new occurrence because you'd had to replace them after a drunk Cassian had tried to do a back flip off it last week.

Clutching the blanket around your shoulders with one hand, you used the other to pull a chair over to where the corner of the roof hung over the balcony, and carefully climbed up. The townhouse roof was not as steep as the Palace roof, or even the cabin in Illyria, where you and your mate used to sit and talk about all his plans for his city and his people.

That ache in your chest returned tenfold as you spotted your mate, sitting at the highest point of the roof, knees to his chest, wings wrapped around himself to fight against the cold. His head was tucked against his knees, ebony hair covering his eyes. This was not his spot to stargaze. This was not like all those times you'd sat together, whispering your dreams to the stars, so hopeful and eager for the future. This was not the ambitious and hopeful High Lord who had swept you into the glittering world of the Night Court and mapped out a future among the stars with you all those years ago. You had gone to the cabin in Illyria only once while he was away, and the loss of him, the bond so quite and empty and cold in the place you had formed it had been so devastating you'd almost ripped the place apart one wood plank at a time. At the time you had been so sure you had lost him forever that you'd nearly ripped everything you had built together apart in your grief. You had left all those dreams you shared in those woods and vowed that you would never whisper any prayers to the stars ever again. Not if their heir was gone and their reflection in his violet eyes would never look your way again. You had stopped dreaming in his absence. Nights like this you wondered if he had too. Perhaps the Mountain had taken more from both of you then you dared to admit, even to each other. What good were dreams if the stars no longer listened, if they would no longer answer you?

It was an easy climb to him compared to all the other roofs you had climbed to sit with him in the past, even with the blanket still clutched around your shoulders.

Rhys didn't look up. You weren't even sure he'd heard you. Still, you lowered yourself to sit next to him, the worry swirling in the pit of your stomach only beginning to settle as you took in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. This was the part where you said something witty, threw the blanket around him and chastised him for leaving you alone, but maybe those were games for the people you were before. The last time he hadn't heard you coming, too caught up in his own head to hear you, he'd flinched so hard his powers had knocked a bookshelf over, panic flooding the bond. He accidentally showed you a flash of red hair and pointed nails, scratching at his back before he'd ripped the memory away and locked himself in the bathroom. You'd been trying to find ways to avoid doing it ever again.

It was a long, tense few minutes before Rhys lifted his head off his knees just enough to look at you. "Did I wake you?" His voice was raw, like he'd been screaming.

You wanted to touch him, to hold him in your arms and stroke his hair and make it all better, as his touch had always done for you, but everything was so different. Sometimes you were sure he let you hold his hands because he knew you wanted to, not because he wanted to.

It had been a long couple months, you'd been weighing and measuring every word, trying not to startle him, trying not to make him feel any guilt or shame. He had saved you, and your family, had given everything he'd had to ensure that she didn't taint any bit of your home, you owed him a solid front, a shoulder to lean on. You had not spoken of how scared you had been, how cold and empty and wretched you had felt for every moment of the last fifty years. You'd crafted a nice mask for the court to see, holding steady in his absence, not taking it off, even after his return in hopes that it would ease his burden. But the words came tumbling out of you, the tidal wave of emotions bubbling up and bursting out in a rush, "You scared me."

He sat up a little straighter, pain flashing across his star flecked eyes.

"The bond was quite," tears pricked your eyes. "Cold. You wouldn't answer me. You'd shut me out." It was that last bit more than anything. You could handle the nightmares. You could handle this new version of your mate, because truth be told there had been times you weren't sure he was ever coming back, whatever shape he was in was irrelevant in the long run as long as he was alive. All the newness, the unease and uncertainty, the new quite version of him was easy to handle. But the quiet, knowing he'd shut you out again...

"I know that you need time, and space, and I'm trying to give that to you, Rhys, but..."

He unfurled his wings enough to wrap one around you, an arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered against your temple, planting gentle, feather light kisses against your skin as you buried your face in he crook of his neck.

He was here. He was safe. This was real. All things you often had to remind yourself of.

"Please don't shut me out like that," you whispered, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. "Not again. I can bear a lot, Rhys, but not any more of that."

His wings came back around to cover both of you as he stroked a hand through your hair. Still, aside from a few more whispered apologies, he didn't speak, didn't attempt to explain himself. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, he didn't have to explain, he'd earned the right to keep whatever he needed to to himself, if he wanted to tell you he would. But he still had not lowered his shields, did not project anything down the bond. A part of you wanted to scream, grab onto that tether that linked your souls together and shake it like you could somehow force life back into it. Maybe things would be better if you could. Maybe they'd be worse. You tried to tell yourself this was enough.

"There are things," he said finally, his voice pained like he was having trouble putting it together, no sign of that silver tongue of his. "Things I can't... can't talk about."

You laid your hand over his heart, feeling the uneven beat. It was rare for Rhys to be so obviously anxious.

"Things I won't talk about."

"It's not healthy-"

"No," he growled, tightening his grip on your waist to keep you from pulling back to look him in the eyes. By the uneasiness of his breathing you thought he might be crying himself. "You do not need to know. You will hear enough of my sins from everyone else."

Sins, as if he had done any of it willingly, as if he'd had any choice in it.

"You didn't have a choice," you began.

"It doesn't matter," Rhys countered. "That is not the story they will tell."

He would be the villain, the little lackey that did her dirty work, the monster that ripped people's minds apart for his evil queen. You'd heard the story in the High Lord's meetings over and over again--and worse, especially from Beron and Tamlin. "I don't believe anyone else's stories. I don't care what they think you've done, or why you'd done it. I don't care, Rhys, because it's not true."

He buried his head in the top of you hair, a shuttering breath ripping out his chest.

You shot as much understanding and love down the bond as you could, hoping some of it would eventually break through that wall between you. "I love you, I'll always love you, Rhys, nothing will change that."

His wings tightened around you, soft moonlight shining through the soft membrane, highlighting centuries worth of nicks and battle scars. You longed to run your fingers over them, familiarize yourself once again with the patterns and feelings you had forgotten in the last fifty years.

"But how are we supposed to move forward if we don't talk to each other?" You whispered. "I miss you. I miss talking to you. You're my best friend, my mate, we promised to always be honest and open with each other."

You twisted to be able to look at him, pulling away just enough to catch the glimmer of tears in his eyes. You reached out gently to wipe one off his cheek and he shuttered at the contact.

"It doesn't have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I know that you need time, and I am not asking you to give me details you don't want to, but there's gotta be some way for us to talk to each other again, isn't there?"

He tilted his head to kiss your fingertips. "I'm sorry, I know I've hurt you," he murmured against your fingertips, his lips soft and warm against your chilled skin. "I'm trying." He moved his lips to your palm, placing featherlight kisses on the way down, his offering of another apology, as if to tell you he was sorry you had to be there to wipe away any tears. He'd been like that before, but not this bad.

"I know," you said, "but in the mean time, can I at least have a thought for a thought?"

He hummed against your palm. "You first."

"I'm thinking we really should have put in more comfortable roof tiles," you said, twisting against the tile that was biting into the underside of your thighs.

He shifted and pulled you to sit in his lap with a huff of what was almost a laugh. The shift in conversation was good, kept you both from spiraling further into all the uncertainty the future still held. If you couldn't talk about the past, at least there were things in the present to talk about.

"And I'm thinking," you added as you settled against his strong chest, his heartbeat a bit more steady against you now. "That you make a very comfortable seat."

"That's two."

"First one was free," you say, resting your head against his shoulder.

He was quiet for a long moment, just the two of you wrapped in each other under the stars.

"I'm thinking..." his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands finding yours so you could intertwine them. "That I clearly need to get you some new socks, your feet are freezing!"

He was clad in nothing but his underwear, you only now realized, and you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his, seeking any kind of warmth you could find. There wasn't a full sleep set between the two of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, even if this wasn't how you'd hoped the conversation would go, at least it was a conversation. "You know I hate sleeping with socks on, that's not fair."

"Slippers than," he conceded.

You intentionally brushed your cold feet up the side of his leg. "Fuzzy ones. And only if they're bright pink."

"Ridiculous," he huffed, "but if you insist."

"I want them to look like cats too."

"Pink cats?"

"Pink cats."

"Pink cats it is then."

You grinned at that. "We can go to the Rainbow tomorrow for them?"

"First thing in the morning," he promised as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

"We should go for breakfast. There's a new bakery on the Sidra. Well, new as in neither of us have been there, it's technically been open for awhile."

"You didn't go?"

You two had met in a bakery in Illyria, had fought over the last chocolate croissant until the shop owner had kicked both you out for scarring the other customers, it had become something of a weekly tradition to find which shop in Velaris had the best ones since. "I was waiting for you."

The arms around your middle squeezed a little tighter.

"I have a list of things for us to do, actually. A lot changed and I thought if, maybe I kept making a list it gave the Mother a reason to bring you back to me." It felt stupid, now that you'd said it aloud that you had hoped depriving yourself of a chocolate croissant would somehow force the Mother to bring your mate home, but you had been desperate, you weren't always thinking clearly.

Rhys nuzzled into the side of your neck. "Thank you, for waiting." You knew him well enough to know he wasn't talking about the bakery or the croissants.

"I would have waited a thousand years for you," you whispered.

"That's a long time without chocolate croissants," he teased.

"They're worth the wait," you replied, hoping he knew you well enough to know you weren't talking about croissants either.

He merely hummed understandingly as he settled against your shoulder, his breathing evening out against your back. You relished in the rise and fall of his chest, of his warm breath against your throat. He was alive, he was here, he'd made it home.

"What else is on this list of yours?"

"There's a new dinner cruise around the Sidra, an art exhibit in the Rainbow, three new plays," you counted them off on your fingers, trying to remember all of them now. Sleep was beginning to beckon again, your eyes heavy, speech slowing. "The Night Orchestra is coming back into town, you missed them twice. There's a new ice cream shop to try..." there was something else, but your mind was growing hazy. A yawn escaped you.

Rhys tried to stand, but you grabbed frantically at his wrists. "I'm ok. Wanna stay here with you."

He settled back against the roof, laying back now with you tucked into his side. The blanket had gotten twisted between the two of you, doing little to keep out the bite of the roof tiles. You didn't care.

"Oh! There's a new place that sells some lacy things I think you'd like," you mumbled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in deep.

"For you or me?" He teased.

"For you to rip off of me," you said.

He kissed your temple, "We'll definitely have to stop there then."

You were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, really you were, but they were growing heavier and heavier, the stars over head blurring in your vision. Maybe you had been wrong to stop wishing on them, despite all your pain, your mate had still returned to you, that dream had still been answered.

"We're gonna be ok, you know," You murmured into his neck.

"You think so?" He whispered.

"I'll wish it onto every star I see until it's answered," you vowed.

Rhys gripped you a little tighter, you gripped him back, eyes drifting shut fully now.

"Maybe I'll start making wishes again too," he said in your ear. You hoped, as you drifted off, that the stars heard him and would answer this wish too.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader fluff #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand fic #fanfiction #writing #a little hurt/comfort for my other depressed bitches