#cassian really tries my patience

[tadpolesonalgae]

They get turned on when you’re angry — headcanons

a/n: thank you 🩰 for this thought, and thank you anon for requesting it 🧡💛 (this is ever so slightly unserious, please accept my apologies)

warnings: starts out suggestive, derails into smut :)

Rhysand:

“You can’t keep insisting you’re the most handsome High Lord at the High Lord meetings, Rhys!”

You’ve got him sat on the edge of your bed as you scold him for his behaviour, Rhys waiting patiently as he watches you trying to ply the clips from your hair, your own patience wearing thin as frustration builds at their refusal to budge

“I mean really Rhys, I understand you’re no longer acting out a cruel persona, but a little tact, no? Just some discretion? Not cracking jokes left right and centre!”

You hiss as one of the clips snags on a strand of hair, cursing both him and the clip out under your breath

“Darling, will you please just allow me to—”

“Don’t you dare move, Rhysand.”

Colour warms the tan skin of his cheeks, eyes appreciatively running down the trail of your spine, heat gathering at the spankable curve of your hind. The tone you’d used…

“I know you think you’re charismatic and charming, but your arrogance is getting out of hand,” you continue, oblivious to the dark dip in his thoughts, “I suppose it’s inevitable when you have no one to keep you in check, but—”

“No one to keep me in check?”

You whirl on him, hair at last free and unbound, whipping over your shoulder as you turn to him

He’s undone the top most buttons of his shirt, leaned back on the bed, long legs parted—not at all ashamed of the reaction he’s having to the sharp, clipped tone you’d been using on him

“Rhysand!” You hiss, “I’m trying to…”

But he’s not hiding anything, arousal heating the glimmering bond that lies between you, skin tingling with awareness as warmth pools in your belly

“What was it you said again? That I have no one to keep me in check?” He muses, hand shifting over the muscle of his thigh to the obvious hardness between his legs. “No one to remind me of my place?”

“Rhysand,” you warn, “we have a dinner tonight, do not…” but you trail off when he palms himself through the fitted fabric of his trousers, a low groan coming from the back of his throat.

You pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth, delicately licking over dried lips, an action he marks eagerly. “I suppose you could serve being taught a lesson to two…”

Cassian:

“Cass, hurry up! We’re going to be late! Again!”

Really, you would have thought as a General he would have excellent time management skills and would never struggle with being late. And usually, that’s true. But something about going out to dinner to see his family just sends all of that training out the window

“Cassian?” You question, leaning over the banister to call up to your mate’s room. “Cassian, are you nearly ready?”

A series of knocks are landed to your front door, and you blanch, wondering if it’s another pair thinking of walking with you to the River House. But when you open it, you’re greeted with a proudly grinning Cassian, wings tucked in tight against the chill breeze

He must have flown out the window and round to the front again.

“Cassian!” You snap, “I was stressing! Why can’t you just please be on time and save me the anxiety?”

He opens his mouth, pride gleaming in his eyes at what he no doubt thinks is a clever trick, but the amusement has already seeped from your bones.

“For goodness sake,” you mutter, “you haven’t even—” You push up onto your tiptoes, leaning flush against him for support as you set straight a curled lock that was blown the wrong way, flopping to the wrong side of his head

You huff impatiently, settling back onto the flats of you feet, lightly smacking your hand over his chest as you reassess him. “Right. Good. Let’s go.”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” he tries, realising too late you’re genuinely bothered, agitation zinging down the bond. “They won’t even—”

“Cassian, I am not in the mood at the moment,” you snap sharply. “How many times have I told you. We need to be ready to leave half an hour before hand. You’re a General for crying out loud, put your knowledge to good use.”

You’ve never snapped like that before at him. He knows you get a little tightly wound when it comes to time management, but never anything like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten your gears turning like that. But your arms have crossed over your chest, drawing his attention to the dip in the neckline, a little further than usual. The strict set of your brows, and the disapproving cut of your mouth…

He zones back in when you click your fingers in his face, “are you even listening to me? For Mother’s sake Cassian, will you at least pay attention when I’m talking to you?”

“I’m paying attention,” he manages, caught off guard by the arousal that’s stirring in his stomach at the terseness of your question. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. Now hurry up and let’s—”

“Don’t cut me off like that,” he breathes lowly, pupils dilated as he stares down at you. The rise and fall of your chest as you glare impatiently…holding your ground…

“Cassian!” You inhale sharply as his large palm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his heat, nosing at your neckline, his scent wrapping around you, and— “Cassian…” you whisper, back curving with arousal

“Where’d that attitude go?” He asks breathlessly. “Bring it back for me. Won’t you do that, sweetheart?”

“Cass…we’re going to be late…” you manage to get out, knocked off your feet by the abrupt display of hunger

“We won’t,” he murmurs, pressing hot kisses to your throat as he works his way down. “Besides, what were those thirty minutes originally put in place for?”

You flush at the reminder—at how frequently things like this would happen so you would both agree to prepare in advance in the case of certain appetites arising

“Though if you want to keep using that tone on me…” his hips roll against yours, pressing the hard outline of his cock into your tummy, groaning at how it feels. “I don’t think I’d mind…”

Azriel:

“Azriel.” You hiss, gripping his hand by the wrist, tight. “Don’t even think about it.”

The shadows scuttle away from beneath your skirts, while the others peer up at the painting Helion’s currently showing off.

“You can’t just put your hands on me whenever you feel mildly compromised,” you whisper sharply, hoping the others won’t notice how you’re lagging behind.

“He just invited you to his bed,” Azriel growls lowly, pupils contracted as he stares razors into the High Lord of Day’s turned back. “And you hardly mustered up a refusal.”

“I was being polite. And of course the offer wasn’t serious,” you hiss back. “Besides, he’s invited you to bed plenty of times, and you never see me getting all territorial about it.”

“I wish you would,” he breathes, voice roughening as he flicks his wrist out of your grasp in favour of gripping your hip lightly, pulling you a little closer. “At least then he’d get the idea.”

“He’s doing this because you’re making it so apparent we’re recently mated,” you snap, “obviously he’s going to enjoy at last being able to get a rise out of you.”

“I need him to know that you’re mine.”

Heat flutters between your legs, suddenly feeling breathless. Your tongue flicks out over dry lips, and that familiar warmth zips down the bond, still so new and sensitive to every change, keyed to one another.

“You keep that sort of nonsense in the bedroom, Azriel,” you manage to hiss to him. “I do not belong to you. I am your mate.”

You can feel even on your side how overpowering, how dominating those instincts are, made worse by the unwelcome and incessant advances from another male. Can feel how he’s straining under the urge to claim you in a very obvious way.

“You belong to me, as I belong to you,” he growls lowly, darkness thickening at his back as those great wings flare menacingly.

“If you belong to me then I command you to be quiet and behave,” you hiss, the crackling tension between you having you snap, frustration simmering beneath your skin as you’re forced to keep your hands off each other until this bothersome tour comes to an end.

It seems to be the last straw for Azriel, however.

He releases a snarl that sounds mixed with a groan, starving lust barreling down the bond as he’s no longer able to keep his side entirely concealed, large palm shackling your wrist as he drags you away from the others, too hungry to wait

The command had been his breaking point, arousal burning through his blood at the sharpness you’d used

He hopes you’ll use it on him again, even once the initial frenzy has at last faded…

Eris:

“Either make me cum, or I’ll find someone else who will,” you hiss, nails scraping over his scalp, gripping the silky locks in your fist

“I wouldn’t recommend that, fawn,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing his body tight to yours, so you’re trapped between him and the wall as his thigh is pushed flush with your heat. “Besides, you’re already dripping all over me. You think you’ll be able to find anyone else who’ll give you the intensity of one I can?”

“I don’t care at this point,” you counter. “Either give it to me or I’ll have to use something else.”

The impatience catches him off guard. You’re usually so sweet and docile—he wonders where the spark has come from. It seems rather fun to tamper with

“Like your fingers? Your pillow?” He asks, voice deepening as he presses his hips to yours, grinding into the softness of your tummy as you try to rub over his thigh, to get some kind of pleasure. “I’d love to see you try,” he whispers breathlessly

“Fuck you,” you hiss, heat fluttering between your legs, mind turning dizzy with hunger as your arms wrap tight over his broad shoulders, leg weaving round his to try and get him closer—

“Quit it,” you snap, flame blazing in your eyes as your lip curls when he pulls his thigh back, leaving you without stimulation. “You’re being a fucking pain,” you hiss, tugging on his hair

His eyes flutter, hips bucking against you with hunger as he dips down, attacking your neck with kisses and nips, arousal having him firmly within its grasp at that demand

You moan at the sensations, back arching up into him as you feel the pronounced outline of him against you, twitching as he grinds against you

“Fuck, Eris…” you pant, so near the verge of pleasure.

“Get on the bed,” you whisper, hands shakily pushing him away, so he’s stood to his full height, looming over you

When he doesn’t move, you snarl, too impatient to wait for his games. “I said get on the bed.”

The intensity of his arousal hits you then, practically knocking you clean off your feet, both of you seemingly taken aback at just how heavily affected he is

“You like this?” You breathe, pulse spiking as you peer up into his eyes, irises almost fully eclipsed by hunger

He doesn’t need to answer as your hand slips between the two of you, cupping him, feeling just how hard he is, how hungry he is… You curse lowly

“Oh you’re going to pay for every damn teasing thing you’ve ever done to me,” you whisper over his mouth, pushing for him to walk back until his legs come into contact with the bed

“And you’re going to pay tenfold.”

Lucien:

“I just don’t get it, Lu,” you sigh frustratedly, pacing back and forth as he watches you from the plush armchair. “I’ve tried so many different things, she just seems to have it out for me.”

“Are you sure you’re not overthinking this?” He suggests wryly. “We both know you have a habit of assuming the worst when it comes to how other people perceive you.”

“I’m not overthinking this one,” you snap. “She blatantly cut me off and turned her back on me during tea the other day. I don’t know what it is other than she just dislikes me.”

“And wouldn’t it simply be the end of the world if one female didn’t absolutely adore you,” he drawls, stretching out in his seat, long legs crossing at the ankle

“Don’t take that tone with me,” you say sharply, spinning around to face him, glaring

Lucien stiffens under the fire in your gaze, the anger simmering away as you stare him down, surprised by how hot his skin feels beneath that look

“I know for a fact I haven’t done anything wrong this time—and I’m certain of that,” you huff, beginning to pace back and forth, allowing him a moment to grapple with the reaction searing through his body

“Why is she trying to bring me down? I don’t understand it. I’ve never done anything, said anything that could harm her standing in some way, so why is she trying to bring me down?”

He listens to the harsh puff of breath, the sharp sighs coming from your lips, the clean cut of your steps as you spin at the end of a pace—pulse increasing as he slips a long finger beneath his collar

“We females are already at a disadvantage,” you go on, brow tightening now with anger, “can’t she understand that? We should stick together to help one another, not step on each other to further ourselves. It’s so backward! Why are you fighting against me when the problem is with the males in charge? Do you see what I mean? Lu? Lu—”

A hot flush warms your cheeks, thoughts instantly fading from your mind, replaced by the view before you

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to readjust the tightness of the already close-fitting riding trousers he wears. “Continue,” he manages thickly, “I’m listening.”

But you’re done with the conversation already. Done the second you looked at him, the outline of his arousal for you so clear and prominent

“I’m glad you are, but I’m certainly not,” you murmur, already walking over to him, putting yourself into his lap, straddling his hips as you pull your skirts up, feeling that delicious press between your legs

“I think I’m in need of a distraction anyway.”

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

#rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #eris x reader #lucien x reader #acotar #drabble

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hi, I have a request if you don't mind...

Any of the batboys [Or poly with all of them ;)] with an ultra-feminine Reader, with a filthy *wink* *wink* mouth.

She is very into dresses, makeup, dressing up and everything that is considered 'girly', and their mate just thinks she will be all soft and innocent too, how most guys think "Just how females are supposed to be" (Obv, not the bat boys cause they love their women all loud and powerful)

But she literally has the wildest, dirtiest, most unhinged thoughts and just says them without a second thought

and the first time it happens, during IC dinner, she says a string of swears or just says the most sexual thing to her mate and everyone in the IC eyes them and Nesta/Elain (who was a little cold to her for whatever reason) just goes "Ok I was wrong, I love this bitch"

Dirty mouth.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; SWEARING :') , suggestive

Masterlist.

Hello I really hope this is what you had in mind! I had so much fun writing this! If you don't like it you can always ask me to rewrite it I won't get offended. Hope you enjoy it! <3

When you first met Azriel, and the bond snapped you felt like the luckiest female in the world. The shadowsinger was the best mate someone could wish for, he treated you like a queen and even though it had only been six months since you accepted the bond, you felt like you knew everything about him.

You couldn’t say the same for him though since you decided to keep your bolder personality hidden not wanting to scare him away. Azriel only saw a female who cared about clothes and shopping with her friends, he told you how sweet and delicate you are multiple times and always tried to be soft in bed. At first you enjoyed all the protectiveness and affection but as the months passed you decided to stop overthinking before you spoke and let Azriel see who you really are.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“You should try these cookies, I got them from the new bakery” Feyre exclaimed and placed a big box on the dining table.

You were in the dining room at the house of wind with the inner circle, Azriel was sitting next to you with one protective wing wrapped around you.

Everyone took a cookie, including your mate who took a bite and let a soft moan.

“What was that?” Cassian chuckled.

“Oh he really likes it, that's the noise he makes when I suck his cock” you giggled.

Azriel choked on the cookie, Rhysand and Cassian gaped at you and the girls burst into laughter. You quirked a brow at Nesta who always gave you a hard time and she winked.

“What did you say?” Azriel asked when he stopped choking.

“That’s how you moan when I suck your cock just before you finish in my thro…” he covered your mouth with his palm and stared at you wide-eyed.

Nesta went hysteric and shouted, “okay I love you”.

That was the first time Azriel saw your true self and as the days passed and you made more comments like that and started cursing too his whole attitude changed and he finally started treating you like he wasn’t afraid of breaking you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were in a meeting with the inner circle and Eris to find a way to kill Beron, the Autumn heir though kept making offensive comments to your mate and you could feel your patience running thin.

“How does it feel to be touched by those disgusting hands?” Eris asked you and silence filled the room.

“Most of the times I squirt” you replied with a smirk. Eris frowned while Azriel’s breath hitched.

“What happened lordling? Cat got your tongue, or you just can’t process the fact that the shadowsinger fucks better than you?” you teased him and got up.

You grabbed the Truth-Teller from your mate and approached Eris.

“Do you know how many times he has fucked me with this?” you asked and touched the tip of the dagger on his cheek. Rhys tensed but Cassian grabbed his shoulder with a proud look.

Azriel’s face flushed, and he gaped at the scene in front of him.

“Do you want to have the honor to feel this inside you too?” you asked, and he shook his head, his face paled.

“Then I suggest shutting your fucking mouth before I sew it.” You growled and walked back to your mate.

The meeting finished after a while and Azriel cupped your jaw staring deep in your eyes

“You never fail to amaze me” he mumbled and kissed you “but to be honest you are scaring me a bit” he continued and smiled.

“And you haven’t seen all of me yet” you replied and pecked his nose before exiting the office, leaving a very worried shadowsinger inside.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time it happened you were having a game night with your friends, you and Azriel were winning but Cassian and Nesta were close behind only two points away.

“You have 7 red” Nesta said.

“Siphons” Cassian exclaimed.

“Oh and Azriel’s siphons are..”

“Blue”

“Time!” Feyre said.

“It’s a tie” Rhysand announced.

“Oh come on those were so easy like asking him what his name is” you protested and Azriel chuckled.

“No I’m just better than you” Cassian teased you.

“Oh fuck off brute” you scoffed, Azriel spat his wine and stared at you.

“Seriously you have to warn me before you do that.” He mumbled and grabbed a napkin.

“Does it hurt to share the victory you little bitch?” Cassian smirked.

“Does it hurt to know that your mate fakes it every night?” Cassian turned to Nesta who was laughing uncontrollably.

“You’re a cocksucker” He shouted and winked to show that he was just messing with you.

“And a good one, ask Azriel” your mate shook his head and glanced at Feyre who was covering Nyx' ears.

After a small fist fight with Cassian, you both burst into laughter and hugged.

“You act like babies” Rhysand spoke. “Shut up” you and Cassian said simultaneously making the high lord lean his head back with a desperate look on his face.

“Okay I think you had enough wine for tonight my little cocksucker” Azriel teased and grabbed your shoulders “Let’s get you in bed”.

“I will show you how good I am” you winked and let him guide you into your shared bedroom ignoring Cassian’s gags.

After a while Azriel got used to your dirty mouth and the way you threatened whoever disrespected him and actually enjoyed it. He felt good having someone to protect him for a change and fight his battles. A few months later he noticed that he started cursing more and was horrified when he realized that he was acting like you, later he started making vulgar comments too and everyone groaned “Now we have two of them”. You had never felt prouder for your mate.

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #rhysand #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #shadowsinger x reader #night court #inner circle #acotar fanfic #cassian acotar #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta acotar #nesta x cassian #the night court #velaris #city of starlight #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #acowar #acomaf

[itsphoenix0724]

Promises Pt 2 (Rhysand x Reader)

Summary: You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from. But, you can certainly try.

Part 1

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi loves! Thank you for all the love on Promises! I'm so so happy everyone liked it, and I got a lot of really positive feedback and interactions! Here is the awaited part 2! I hope you all enjoy where I've decided to take it and the ending! As always constructive criticism is welcome!

You found Mor when you arrived at Athelwood. You had reached out to her mind to mind and she came right away. You spent an hour crying collapsed in her arms cursing the world, the mother, the cauldron, and your husband.

You didn’t leave your bed for another two weeks.

Mor tried to convince you to eat, but you rejected the offer every time. All you did was stare grimly between the gap in the curtains. 

Mate. One word, four letters. Who knew such a small word could rip your heart to shreds?  

You couldn’t stop replaying your argument with Rhys over and over. “She is my mate and I don’t know what to do.” and “It's just more complicated” rattled against the walls of your brain like a twisted symphony. You could only shut your eyes and turn away from the dying sun to try to drown out the noise. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Night Court was in absolute shambles. It had only been a few weeks, but Rhys quickly realized how greatly the absence of his queen was felt across the entire territory.

After his return from Amarantha’s rule, you had shouldered the majority of the workload to give him time to recover. Theoretically, it made sense. He was out of practice and you had been ruling the court for 49 years by yourself. However, he was just now realizing how out of practice he was.

Rhys had never been a particularly good diplomat.

He was a good leader and a fantastic battle strategist, but he needed more patience for paperwork and meetings.

You always did say he could win a war before he understood the workings of city planning.

Now, there was a pile of letters on his desk asking him when the services the Queen had usually provided were going to resume.

He didn’t realize how much you did daily. How much improvement you made over almost 50 years of ruling by yourself.

You had established a grief counseling service for the war, there was a refugee center you helped run for Illyrian women who needed shelter, and you and Cassian even made biweekly visits to almost all of the Illyrian Camps to ensure they were upholding the new laws about wing clipping. You were even fielding talks with Keir in the Court of Nightmares.

You always did hate the way Rhys chose to handle that.

It was the way his father had taught him and his grandfather had taught his father, and even though you hated Keir, you hated seeing the rest of the court punished.

You had established an exchange program of sorts. Apparently, you had allowed a select few merchants to come to Velaris almost monthly to sell their goods, and you had a group of 20 children that would come attend schools in the City of Starlight. The work kept piling up, he had so many letters marked urgent on his desk that he was starting to go cross-eyed.

The only thing that he could think of was that he failed you. He failed his court, and there was nothing but deep unsettling loneliness clawing its way through his ribcage and straight into his heart. The only thing he had been trying to do was reach you. He had been trying to talk to you through your mind but he was met with cool obsidian walls banning him from entry. 

Then, there was the matter of the unanswered mating bond pulling in his chest. 

He never wanted Feyre. At least not in the same way he wanted you.

He never intended to accept the bond, but he wanted to help her. She had brought him back to his family. To his Queen. He refused to let her waste away in Spring. He thought he could use the mating bond as an excuse to get her away from Tamlin, and once she was settled he could break it off and set her free.

He had made the stupid mistake of not being honest with you in the first place.

He didn’t want you to scent the mating bond and get the wrong idea, so he stayed away for the week until he could finalize his plan.

Instead, he made the mistake of not telling you and it seemed like he was having an affair.

It had been a fair assumption to make, given his piss-poor excuse for an explanation, but the thought of being with another person made him sick to his stomach. Running his fingers over the band of your ring he knew he had to fix this. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You distantly felt Mor sit down on the bed. A soft caring hand brushes through your hair as she calls your name softly. You turn, and blink up at her with weary eyes.

She sends you a sad tight-lipped smile before telling you why she disturbed your hibernation. 

“We need your help.” She says it so softly you almost don’t hear her, “Please. The Court is running itself into the ground. Your people need you,” she pauses again like she doesn’t know if she should say what comes next. “Rhys needs you.” You bury your head back into the pillow and allow yourself to relish in the darkness a minute longer. 

“Winnow us to the House, and then give me an hour.” Mor’s face lights up with a blazing victory as she reaches out to grab your hands, and then deposits you in the Oueen Suite at the house of wind.

You flinch at the bright light and want nothing more than to crawl back into bed and wallow in the crushing sadness. 

But you are Queen of the Night Court, and you made an oath to your people before anything else.

You refuse to let them be punished for the mistakes of their stupid High Lord.

The House had run you a bath, and you sink into the boiling water trying to scrub away the remains of the previous two weeks. Once you’re done you sit down at the vanity in your room and go through the motions. You brush your hair, apply some makeup, and put on all the pieces of jewelry that mean the most to you like armor.

It feels like you’re suiting up for battle to go see your husband. The floor-length black slip you chose might as well have been made of steel.    

You do your best to pointedly ignore your bare ring finger. 

You stare at the crown you never quite thought you were worthy of. Of course, the cauldron would make Feyre Rhys’s Mate. She was the curse-breaker and Rhys was the most powerful High Lord in history. 

What were you?

You push the negative thoughts away and rest the crown on your head. You need to focus on your people. They were the important factor here. You stand up and find Mor in the hall, She looks over you with immense approval before winnowing you down to Velaris.

You walk around the city before you face Rhys at the townhouse.

You visit your favorite bakery, you visit all of your charities, and you walk along the Sidra greeting the townspeople as you pass. It fills you with renewed vigor as they greet you with their warm smiles. It makes you feel like you deserve to be here. 

This is your city, nothing can take you from it. 

The door to the townhouse opens for you, and the first thing you smell is the stench of old wine. You wander through the house and find that Rhys hasn’t moved any of the things you made in the kitchen before you left. You found Rhys leaning over his desk. He must be out of it because he doesn’t hear your approach.

He looks tense, the muscles in his back are as taught as a bowstring. His hair looks run-through and ragged even from behind, and you bet if he turned around there would be dark purple half-moons under his eyes.

You clear your throat and Rhy’s head shoots around to look at you. You’re expecting anger, regret, and maybe even resentment to reflect in his eyes. The only thing you see looking back at you is palpable remorse. He pushes back from his desk so hard that his chair knocks over. He rushes over to you and looks like he’s going to wrap you in his arms, but he drops them at the last second. Rhy is staring at you like he doesn’t believe you’re real and his violet eyes have taken on a glassy tint. 

“Hi,” you mumble carefully, not quite sure if you’ll spook him into triggering another argument. You not knowing how to act around your husband is an unpleasant foreign feeling. Rhys clears his throat and lets out a teary sort of laugh

“Hello my darling,” he tries to smile and fiddles with his hands in a way that is so uncharacteristically like Rhysand it makes your heart lurch for him in your chest. “I’m assuming there’s a lot you want to talk to me about.” You nod and Rhys casts his eyes downward before he nods at you in encouragement. 

“Do you want a divorce?”  It’s the first thing you blurt out, but you’re not sure if you want to know the answer. You have to know, you need to know before you can continue on further. If Rhysand was going to rip out your heart again you’d rather him just get it over with already. Instead, he looks up at you with the most alarmed look on his face you’ve ever seen, and he reaches out to grab your hands in his.

He opens his mouth and then closes it again before he drops to his knees before you. 

“No love, I do not want a divorce. I never want to be separated from you ever again,” He presses kisses into your knuckles “Please, let me explain myself.” He looks up at you in permission and you give a subtle tip of your head. “I never wanted Feyre. Ever. I only needed the mating bond to help save her. I was always going to reject the bond after she was safe.” You hesitate, and he can see the trepidation in your eyes. “Please believe me,” Silver lined the bottom of his violet eyes

“But why,” your voice cracked, and the sobs you’ve held in through you’re entire time apart came rushing out of your chest like hot lava. “The cauldron gave you a mate that matches your power. I’m just me. I’m nothing.” Rhys rises from his knees and holds your face in his hands.

Claiming and steady so he can soothe your sobs. 

“Damn the cauldron. I love you to the end of this earth, and the next earth beyond it. I made mistakes, and I handled this situation completely the wrong way. I am so sorry Darling. I am lost without you, when you’re not here I am missing half my heart. Please, come home.” Another sob bubbles up from your throat and your husband pulls you against him, rubbing soothing circles into your back and apologies into the crook of your neck. Once you both calmed down he pulls back from you and offers you your ring. The sight almost makes another sob bubble in your throat. “Well? Could you forgive me?” 

You nod and Rhy’s whole body almost sags in relief at your words as he slips the sapphire back onto your finger. It’s like a void in your soul has been filled.

You and Rhys certainly still have a lot to talk about and a lot to work on, but you know you’ll do it together.

Just like you always have. 

“So, I heard the Court is falling to pieces without me?” You look back at Rhys’s desk in question and he sends you a guilty look in return. He scoops you up in his arms, despite your shout of protest, and starts walking you toward your shared bedroom. 

“Love you don’t even know how lost I am without you, but we can get to that after I’m done thoroughly apologizing to my Queen.” His voice sends a shiver of dark promise down your spine, and you have the settled feeling in your stomach that everything will turn out just fine.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhys x reader #rhys acotar

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 48

One part left and an epilogue to go!! 🎉 What is lifeeeee? The fact that this story is literally almost over is just insane to me. Thank you to everyone who kept up with this one. I know it's been a long, long ride. Your patience and kind words have meant the world to me. 💜

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 8,481

Elain’s consciousness tugged at the front of her mind, slowly trying to pull her from her slumber. Warmth radiated from the other person she shared her bed with, his cedar and mist scent a balm to her soul. As she slowly came to, she realized that Azriel was not the only one in their bed that morning, her son’s voice catching her attention even though her husband tried to keep him quiet.

“Not so close, buddy,” Az murmured, and she felt Kaden’s small body being pulled slightly away from her. “We have to be careful of Momma’s tummy.”

A little body shuffling jostled her but she kept her eyes firmly shut, simply enjoying the tender moment with her boys.

“Like this, Daddy?”

Her heart melted. The night before came perfectly clear in her memory—how Azriel’s face morphed into quiet joy from Kaden finally calling him daddy. She saw every emotion behind his eyes, every prayer being answered: that their son would finally view him as his father and not just a guardian.

“That’s perfect, bud,” he choked out in a hoarse whisper. It was obvious how much it meant to Azriel to hear that name coming from Kaden’s lips.

Elain knew that her husband was aware of her being awake; he always seemed to sense her presence even before she opened her eyes. He confirmed it when Kaden tried to whisper, “When is Momma going to wake up?”

Az’s answering chuckle was the first indicator, followed by “Soon, I’m sure.”

She took that as her queue, stretching out her aching body—pregnancy really was a bitch—yawning until she opened her eyes.

“Momma!” Kaden shouted in glee, throwing his arms around her shoulders.

Elain let out an “oomph,” laughing as Azriel chastised their rambunctious four-year-old.

“Easy, Kaden.” He scooped his son back into his arms, kissing him all over his face and making him burst out into a fit of giggles.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, smiling at the sweet display. “What time is it?”

Az settled their son between them, his bright eyes glancing at her. “Just before seven. The Moonbeam twins will be here at nine to collect you and Kaden to head to the baby store in Hewn City.”

Elain could see the change in her husband as he spoke. How he wanted them to go with them and that it made him nervous to stay behind while they were in another territory. She reached out, cupping his cheek in her palm, and let her thumb swoop over the apple of it. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered, hoping to reassure him.

He sighed heavily, twisting his head to kiss the inside of her hand. “I’ll be better once you’re both home and safe.”

“Momma, I’m hungry!” Kaden announced, breaking the spell that had woven over them.

 Azriel rose from the bed, turning to face them. “I’ll make breakfast. What do you guys want?”

“Pancakes!” they said in unison.

Her husband huffed a laugh, eyes rolling because that’s what Elain always wanted for breakfast. “Why do I bother asking?” And then he swooped down to toss their giggling boy onto his shoulder. “Alright, free-loader… you’re going to help me make pancakes this morning,” he called out as he threw a still-giggling Kaden over a shoulder and muscled his way out of their bedroom.

“Bye momma!” their little boy called waving at her enthusiastically.

She wiggled her fingers at him, giving herself another moment to lounge in bed. One of the twins stretched out, their little foot pressing against the inside of her stomach hard enough to see the outline of it. She could even make out their little toes. Elain let out a breath, running her hand over her belly to soothe the child. “Make yourself comfortable, little one,” she teased in a soft breath. 

Shuffling herself off the bed, she waddled into the large bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

Forty-five minutes later, she padded her way downstairs to the kitchen in a pair of leggings, one of Azriel’s oversized sweatshirts—because it was the only thing warm enough that fit her at the moment—and sneakers. She found her boys at the stove, Kaden pouring the last remnants of the batter onto a hot skillet while Azriel flipped pancakes to perfection.

Elain took out her phone and snapped a photo of the two of them, intending on getting it printed and framed for the house. She glanced down at the finished pancakes, noticing the wonky shape from her boy’s pouring skills. Her lips turned up into a smile as she made her way to the fridge to grab the carton of orange juice for herself and milk for Kaden.

Azriel caught her movement, eyes quickly looking in her direction before returning to the stove. And then his whole head snapped toward her, taking in every inch of her and what she was wearing.

Truth be told, Elain knew what wearing Az’s clothes did to him. He had always had this masculine pride whenever she paraded around in his t-shirts and such. But she typically wore them around the house, unless he happened to drape something on her while they were out. His eyes darkened, and he stepped away from the stove to prowl over to her.

The look he shot her had a pleasurable chill running down her spine. How Elain could be seven months pregnant with fucking twins and still be turned on by this man was beyond her. But he took advantage of her raging hormones when they could.

A scarred hand reached out to run down the length of her sleeve. “You’re wearing this out?” he asked, voice low and sensual.

She felt herself twinge between her thighs. “It’s big and comfy,” she told him. “Is it all right if I wear it?” Elain knew the answer before he even voiced it.

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “Fuck yeah, you can wear it. Look at my wife, knocked up and wearing my clothes. Do you know the kind of message that sends to people?”

She huffed a laugh. “That you’re territorial and a caveman.”

Azriel claimed her lips in a heated kiss, stepping into her space until her rounded belly was pressed against his abdomen. It was obvious he wanted to finish what they started last night, the way his tongue slipped into her mouth and how his palms cradled her body indicated it.

Frankly, she did too. Elain didn’t think Az could be more attentive to her needs, but while pregnant, he managed to kick up his wicked talents until she passed out from coming so many times when they got hot and heavy.

His mouth moved dominantly over hers, prying her lips apart so he could stroke his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

It took a splat sound, followed by an “Oopsie,” from their son for them to break apart.

Azriel whirled around while she stepped to peer around his shoulder at their son holding the spatula in his tiny fist, a guilty look spreading across his face in the form of a blush.

Her eyes glanced down at the floor, finding a half-cooked pancake staining the wood.

“Kaden,” Az started, voice alight with humor. “Watcha doing there, bud?”

Those tanned cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink. “I was trying to flip, Daddy!” he says exasperated.

Her husband let out a chuckle, moving to help their son climb off the stool he was standing on. “Well, it looks like we might need to practice that next time. Go sit down at the table, Kaden.”

Azriel cleaned up the mess in their kitchen while she finished setting out dishes for breakfast.

Elain loved mornings like this. The three of them—soon to be five—sitting around eating their breakfast together. She wanted to make this a weekend ritual, especially when the kids were young. Weekdays were difficult to get all of them around the table and she and Az took turns preparing breakfast for Kaden before he went to school and they to work. Actually, Azriel typically took care of it most mornings now since she was running slower, but this, this sweet family time…Elain wanted nothing more than to have this with her husband and children.

The doorbell ringing pulled her from her reverie, Azriel announced he’d get it, then dropped a kiss on the top of her and Kaden’s heads.

She heard the tale-tell sounds of the Moonbeam twins entering their foyer.

“Good morning, Elain,” Fenrys bellowed, dropping a kiss to her cheek followed by his brother more politely. Both men ruffled Kaden’s hair and took a spot around their breakfast nook.

“Morning, boys. Thanks again for taking Kaden and me to Hewn today.”

Connall flashed a brilliant smile. “It’s always a pleasure, Elain.”

She gestured to the table still full of food. “Please help yourself to breakfast. Kaden helped make the pancakes this morning.”

Fenrys twisted to the little boy. “Kaden, you made the pancakes?”

Her son beamed at the question. “I did, Uncle Fen!”

He grabbed one of the oddly shaped flapjacks and bit into it, groaning. “Well, that’s the best pancake I’ve ever had, isn’t Con?”

Connall took one as well. “I think we’ve got a little chef on our hands,” he said, earning a little blush from Kaden.

She grinned at the conversation, loving how her boy had become more comfortable with their security team over time. One of the babies sent a swift kick to her lower stomach causing her to wince. The conversation stalled as all three men at the table took notice.

Az’s large, scarred hand slid across her belly. “Are they kicking?” he asked with a sweet, hopeful look in his amber eyes.

She nodded, a grin playing on her lips. “They’ve been making their presence known this morning,” she murmured, looking down at her pregnant stomach.

Fenrys rounded the table, looking at where the baby was moving beneath her skin. “May I?” he questioned.

Elain took his hand and placed it right where one of the twins sent two jabs.

The golden twin’s smile took up his entire face. “That’s a strong one you got there.” Both Fenrys and Connall had grown even closer to her since she got pregnant. They often asked to feel the babies kicking if they happened to be active whenever they were around. She was surprised that Azriel showed no displeasure or territorialism when they did. He’d been particularly protective of her, especially around others, and didn’t like when others touched her without asking first.

Rhys found out the hard way a few weeks back, having had his hand snatched off her by the wrist in Azriel’s brutal grip. “Ask first,” he growled at his brother, a lethal look in his eyes.

She had been a bit blind-sighted by the interaction, as was the rest of their family, but not a single one of them touched her again without getting her explicit permission first.

Luckily, both the Moonbeam brothers always asked and she never had an issue with them. 

The commotion around her fluttering belly grew the attention of Kaden who pushed his way around Fenrys’s legs. “Momma, can I touch your tummy too?” His little lip quiver had her reaching for him and tugging him closer.

“Of course you can, sweetheart.” Kaden was the only other person freely allowed to touch her stomach, Azriel often encouraging him to feel them or listen to her stomach so he could connect with his siblings early on. She gripped his small hand and placed it right where one of the babies had been kicking. Up until that point, Kaden had missed every time they kicked; the twins already giving their older brother a hard time.

His brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t feel anything,” he said, deflating.

Her lips quirked up. “Give it a second.” And as she predicted, a hard kick was sent straight to his palm.

He whipped his hand back, shock plastering his face. “Why are they kicking you, Momma?”

She felt the attention of her husband and security detail on them, listening to his curious mind. “They’re not trying to kick me, baby. They’re just trying to get comfortable with the little room they have in Momma’s tummy.”

His green and gold eyes dragged from her stomach to her face. “Can’t they come out here?” He threw his arms wide. “There’s lots of room!”

The adults chuckled and she reached out to lightly tuck a curl behind his ear. “They’re not ready to come out yet. But they’ll be here before you know it.” Elain tapped his button nose with the pad of her finger.

His face scrunched up adorably. “Why are they in your tummy, Momma?” he asked, head cocked to the side as he studied her moving stomach.

She leaned back in her seat. “Babies need time to grow big and strong. Mommas help them by keeping them safe in their tummies for a while until they’re all ready to come out and join us.”

He seemed to think about that for a minute, then asked, “How’d they get in there?”

Azriel choked on his coffee.

Silence descended upon the kitchen. She glanced at her security team across the table, both of them wearing shit-eating grins, and then her husband who looked conflicted in answering at all. Fucking traitors. “Well, Daddy put them in me so I can grow them.”

There, that was safe, right? Truthful but not explicit.

But of course, their curious son had too many questions and wondered about too many things. “How?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, son,” Azriel finally swept in with the saving remark.

Seemingly appeased with that answer, Kaden leaned forward and lightly patted her stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered, kissing her roundness like he’d seen his father do so many times.

There was a collective aww from the group before her husband rose from behind her. “Come on, Kaden. Let’s get you ready so you and Momma can go with Uncle Fen and Uncle Con into the city.” He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Nice save, Mom.”

She shot him a menacing glare as they strolled for the stairs.

Fenrys poured himself a glass of orange juice, snickering behind the cup. “Well, that was fun.”

Elain turned her glare on him. “Oh, yeah. So much fun for me. Thanks for the help, guys.”

“One,” Connall, started, flicking a finger up, “he’s not our kid. And two,” his middle finger joined the first, “I really wanted to hear the sexual education course from an actual doctor.” He took a bite of his pancake, smirking.

She groaned. “It’s far too early for the sex talk.” Elain threw back her orange juice like it was a shot of tequila. “Azriel can have the talk with the boys. I’ll give it to our daughter.”

“Unnecessary because our daughter is never having sex,” Az announced, striding back into the kitchen.

“Is that so?” she questioned, leaning back in her seat.

He nodded affirmatively. “I’m officially joining Cassian on the ‘our daughter is never dating’ pact.”

Elain rolled her eyes so far back into her head, she swore they nearly stuck. “You do realize you can’t physically stop her from having sex, right?”

A thick brow rose. “I’ll scare off anyone who so much as looks in her direction.” He said it so casually, she was starting to get concerned he was serious.

“What if he’s just like you?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Then he’s definitely dead.”

Elain glanced at the Moonbeam twins for help, but they were dutifully ignoring her pleading looks. Yup, fucking traitors. She pushed herself from her seat. “Azriel, we cannot hold our daughter to a different standard than our son’s. That’s not fair and you know it.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers. “Fair enough.”

“Good.”

“None of them are allowed to date,” he announced like it was the most obvious answer.

“Azriel!” she hissed, swatting his shoulder. “You overbearing, protective man. Stop this.”

He tugged her in his arms, a grin fighting its way onto his lips. “I can’t help it, El. They’re my babies.”

She reached up to cup his stubbled cheeks in her palms. “They’re mine too. But they’re going to need to spread their wings eventually. We can’t protect them from everything and we can’t stop them from living their lives.”

“I know, I know.” He sighed heavily. “A man can dream, can’t he? That they’ll stay little and dependent on us forever?”

Elain laughed softly. “You’re a perfect father, my love.” She pressed her lips to his, sighing into his mouth when he deepened it.

It took a very subtle, but very prominent, throat-clearing to pull them apart. They turned to look at the twins, both wearing mischievous grins.

“Sorry, we weren’t sure if you wanted to give us a front-row seat to the live-action, baby-making ritual,” Fenrys tossed out.

“Jesus Christ, Fen,” Elain muttered while her husband shot him a death glare. “Where’s Kaden?” she asked him instead, regaining his attention.

“I left him to brush his teeth and get dressed. He said he could do it on his own.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you pull clothes out for him?” Kaden was in his stage of throwing on whatever he found first, which meant his outfits of choice would sometimes consist of long pants, a tank top, one rain boot, one flip flop, and the occasional beanie. And somehow, everything was always a different color.

A few weeks back, Kaden had decided to dress for school and ended up in a full meltdown when she said he couldn’t wear his pajama pants with one slipper and a light-up sneaker. She ended up being late for work and Azriel had to leave an early morning meeting from his home office to come help handle the situation when she grew lightheaded enough from the stress.

“His entire outfit is lying on his bed and I told him to put it on after he finished his teeth.” Az planted a kiss on her cheek.

“If he comes down in a T-rex costume, you’ll be dealing with it on your own.”

A brow raised. “Does he have a T-rex costume?”

She shrugged, sighing. “I don’t even know.” They really did spoil their children.

Fenrys and Connall snickered at the exchange. “Do you want us to take the SUV?” the latter asked, redirecting the conversation to her husband.

Azriel guided her back to her chair and helped her sit. “Yes, anytime they leave the city they must be in the SUV.”

Elain nearly rolled her eyes. A few weeks before they bought the house, she and Az had agreed to get a new car since their current one wouldn’t be able to handle the size of their growing family. Elain left it up to her husband, not caring about what he got, but he had some specific requests. It had to have high safety reviews, fit their whole family, and be luxurious. Frankly, she only cared about the former two, but he insisted they should always ride in comfort.

What she did not expect was for him to upgrade every window to bullet-proof glass. The damn thing was safer than what a president or the royal family would be escorted in.

“Just a precaution,” he had told her. “More like overly excessive,” she shot back.

She just huffed out a breath, finishing her juice. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked her husband, eyeing his casual attire.

He flicked her nose, making her hiss. “Meeting’s at ten. I’ll change when you guys head out.” Grabbing her dishes, he padded to the sink to wash them, always taking care of her.

Twenty minutes later, they were loading into the car, Az getting Kaden into his booster seat while she slid into the back. He kissed his son’s cheek, eyes finding hers. “Be safe. Call me if you have any problems.”

Elain offered him a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” He leaned farther in, stealing a quick kiss from her lips, then shut the door.

She watched him speak with the Moonbeam brothers outside of the vehicle, likely giving them the protection order for her and their son. After a couple of minutes and a few nods, they took their respective seats in the front.

Fenrys flashed a grin from the driver’s side. “Ready, fam?”

About an hour later, they pulled into a parking spot outside the large baby store Elain had been dying to get into. She tried to keep most of her purchases to local businesses in Velaris, but there were just some things she couldn’t get there and had to resort to one of the chain stores.

The minute the car was in park, the men jumped out, opening their doors. Connall unclipped Kaden from his booster seat and helped him out, taking his hand until they met on the other side of the car and she could take over.

Their focus was the double-seated stroller, but she did want to look at the pack-n-play for when the babies started to really move around. They still had their co-ed baby shower the following month at Feyre and Rhys’s for any last-minute items.

They slowly made their way into the massive store, Connall disappearing to grab a cart. As they walked, they passed the toy section, and Elain saw how Kaden’s eyes lit up like it was Solstice morning.

“Momma, can I go look at the toys, please?”

She glanced at the golden twin, then back at her son. “Sure, sweetheart. Why don’t you and Uncle Fen go pick out something small for your brother and sister?”

The little boy squealed, taking Fenrys’s large hand in his and pulling him away.

“We’ll be in the stroller area when you’re finished.”

She and Connall continued their perusal through the isles until she found what she was looking for—of course, the prams were at the back of the store. Elain already knew which one she wanted; the stroller was top-of-the-line, grew with the babies, and had the best reviews on the market.

But when they stopped in front of the shelves, she realized their mistake. “I think we’re going to need a flatbed. These won’t fit in the cart.”

Connall stepped up to her side. “Yup, I’m realizing that right now. Damn. Sorry, Elain. Let me go grab the other cart. You okay here?”

Elain huffed a laugh. “Well, I can tell you I’m not walking back to the front of the store and back, so I think I’ll survive the few minutes of your absence,” she teased, flashing him a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes at her, a smile toying on his lips. “You’re so sassy pregnant.”

“You’ll do well to remember that.”

Connall chuckled, heading back to the front of the store. He left the cart at her request, just in case she needed it.

She grabbed one of the large boxes from the lower shelves and yanked. The box barely budged. “Oh, come on,” she muttered, trying again.

“Can I help you with that?” a male voice asked, coming up behind her.

Elain whirled, taking an involuntary step back at his proximity,

His lips curled up in the corner. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her eyes ran over the length of him. He was an attractive man. Older than her, likely close to forty if she had to guess. He was tall, well over six foot with golden brown skin and dark hair. He looked familiar in a way that tickled the back of her mind but couldn’t quite place.

He nodded at the stroller box. “Did you want me to grab that for you?” he asked again.

“Oh. Yes, that’d be great.”

The man stepped around her, reaching for the handle of the box and slid it out for her to inspect, the suit jacket he wore stretching over the defined muscles of his shoulders and back. “Here you go.”

She ran a hand over the box, double-checking the name and product code. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, leaning a hip against the shelves and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “How far along are you?”

Elain tucked her hair behind her ear, looking back up at him. Again, the prickling sensation rubbed at her mind, almost like in warning. “Right around seven months,” she said. It wasn’t too personal to admit to a stranger. Carrying twins, Elain looked ready to pop anyway. “Is your wife pregnant? Girlfriend?” she asked, redirecting the attention from herself onto him.

His lips turned up again. “Sister-in-law.” He let his eyes rove over her form, sending a chilling sensation running down her spine. “I’ll admit it’s been a while since I bought anything from a baby store…any suggestions?”

Her brow furrowed. It seemed odd he’d come into the store without having any inkling of what to get. “What is she having?”

Again, a smile touched his lips, but Elain thought it looked a little more sinister than genuine.

“Twins,” he announced carefully.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Her heart began racing in her chest as she started to connect the dots of who this man was. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any suggestions for you.”

He huffed a rough laugh. “No?” His thumb rubbed his lower lip in contemplation. “I would’ve figured you could’ve given me a good idea of what to give her and her husband.”

Elain took a very subtle step away, putting the stroller box between them, but of course, those fucking hazel eyes zeroed in on the movement, his mouth pulling up. “Nope,” she said, popping the p sound. “Can’t help you.”

The man stuffed his hands into his pocket, a casual look of grace and sophistication, but he also radiated a dark and dangerous vibe. A lethal combination…just like her husband. “What was your name again?” he asked casually, head cocking to the side in a predatory-type of way.

“I didn’t give it,” she snapped back. Her red alert sensors were going off in her mind, and here she was, all alone with her son somewhere else in the fucking store. But Elain didn’t dare take her eyes off the man who was looking at her too closely.

He chuckled, the sound sending nerves flooding her stomach. “Smart girl. You’ll have to tell Azriel that Frankie says hello. It’s been a very long time since we last saw each other.”

And there it was. The truth of who had somehow managed to track her down in a baby store in Hewn City. What her gut had been screaming at her since he said he was buying something for his pregnant sister-in-law. She knew she recognized him, he bore some similar markers of her husband and Nicklaus too. The same jawline, the same nose. But where Azriel’s hazel eyes had flecks of emerald, Francisco’s were much lighter, giving him an almost feline look.

Elain took another step back, one he countered with a casual step in her direction. “You shouldn’t be here,” she stated, trying to keep her voice calm and not betray her terror. Because this man, this man was utterly lethal. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab her or her son.

“Shouldn’t I be?” he asked cooly. Too cooly which only made her more anxious. Yup, there went her blood pressure. “After Nicklaus met you, I was quite curious myself about the woman who captured my brother’s black heart.”

“You know nothing about his heart,” she snarled. Her voice turned venomous, something he seemed pleased about.

He chuckled again. “I know he keeps very little in it. You.” Frankie flicked off an invisible piece of lint from the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Your adorable little boy, Kaden.”

Elain froze, true terror turning the blood in her veins to ice. “Keep his name out of your mouth.” She had to find Fenrys and her son. She had to get out of this goddamn store. Elain just prayed Fenrys was vigilant in Kaden’s protection, but she knew he would be.

“I’m sure you already know, but in case you don’t, Lorenzo won’t be a problem for you anymore.”

She blinked, the words rattling around in her skull. Lorenzo showed up dead just before Kaden’s adoption approval. “What did you do?” He’d been a part of the Illyrian Mob. It made no sense to kill one of their own.

He shrugged. “I took care of a problem.” His eyes seemed to look through her and directly down into her soul, the filth of his sins leaked from him like blood upon the tile floor, staining her from the inside out. She didn’t like that one bit. “Consider it my present to you and my brother on the adoption of that sweet boy.”

“We didn’t ask for that.”

Again, he raised his shoulders in indifference. “Azriel is my brother—”

“You are not his brother,” she hissed.

That seemed to irritate him, a crack in his calm demeanor for the deadly male to peek out from beneath the mask. “We are of flesh and blood.”

It may have been the most reckless thing she ever did, but Elain squared her shoulders, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “Blood does not make you brothers. Where was this brotherly bond when you held him down as a child while Alec mutilated his hands? While you allowed him to be tortured and burned.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Azriel has two males he calls brothers, but neither of them is by blood.” Where the fuck was Connall?

He crossed his arms. “And here I thought we were making headway, Elain. Perhaps when my gift for the twins arrives, you’ll reconsider.”

“We don’t want anything from you,” she snarled, face going warm in fury.

“They’re going to want to know their Uncle Frankie,” he murmured, quickly taking too many steps forward and reaching out as if to touch her rounded stomach. But a tanned hand shot out and gripped his wrist.

“Do not touch her,” Connall growled, fingers tightening.

A dangerous glint flashed in Frankie’s eyes. “Remove your hand from my presence before I put a bullet in your head.”

Elain thought she was going to pass out. Her chest ached from the racing of her heart. Blood rushed in her ears drowning out everything around her. And then she heard him.

“Momma?”

She chanced a glance as Kaden and Fenrys came around the corner of the aisle, toy in hand. Elain shook her head at Fen, a silent order to keep her son back. She didn’t know what she would do if Frankie tried to grab her boy.

Reading her request, and the fear in her eyes, Fenrys snatched Kaden into his arms when her son tried to get to her, toy clattering to the floor.

“Momma!” he cried, sensing the seriousness of the situation but not understanding what was going on.

Knowing her son was as safe as he could be, Elain returned her attention to Frankie, who was eying the little boy trying to push his way out of his protector’s fierce grip.

Her hackles rose and she took a deliberate step in front of him, forcing his gaze to return to hers. “Connall, let him go.” It was an order, one the dark-haired twin obeyed immediately. She kept her eyes on Frankie; let the frost she felt in her blood come out in her words. “We are not interested in whatever it is you want. If you come for my family, I will kill you myself without even blinking.” His eyes widened imperceptibly, but she didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “Let’s go.”

Connall moved to cover her back, ready to take a fucking bullet for her and her babies.

Kaden was still crying in Fenrys’s arms and though she knew he was too heavy for her to carry, she took him anyway, propping her as best as she could on her hip while the latter took his place close to her side and protecting her son’s back. Kaden sobbed into her neck, his arms tightening around her neck. “You’re okay, sweetie,” she murmured kissing the side of his head and running a hand up and down his back.

“Are you two packing?”

“Always,” Connall answered gruffly, clearly pissed off at the situation.

She nodded. “Good. That was the head of the Illyrian Mob and I can guarantee there are more in here. Get Azriel on the phone, now.”

Fenrys was already pulling the device from his pocket while Connall stepped up close enough to tell her, “I’m so fucking sorry, Elain. I should’ve had Fenrys come back to you. I should’ve—”

“Connall,” she said, interrupting his apologies. “This wasn’t a coincidence. He sought me out and he would’ve shown up whether you two were there or not,” she told him earnestly. They didn’t have time to dwell on the what haves. “Let’s just get out of here.”

He swore under his breath, still pissed with himself.

“Yes sir, they are both with us. We’re heading back out to the car,” Fenrys said into his phone. He looked at her. “She’s holding Kaden right now. I’ll hand her the phone once we’re securely in the car.”

Something prickled at her skin as they reached the parking lot, eyes darting around the asphalt. That’s when she saw them. One man by the entrance, another near one of the cart returns; two were next to identical-looking SUVs. Everywhere she looked, she saw a suit-clad man just standing there. Waiting… And every single pair of eyes were on them. On her and the distressed child she was carrying.  

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. “We are being watched,” she announced to her security team.

Both of the men reached for their weapons as Fenrys relayed the information to her husband.

Elain threaded her fingers through Kaden’s thick locks, holding his head tucked into her neck so he couldn’t see what was happening.

Not a single man moved toward them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to try anything. The Moonbeam twins were deadly accurate, but it didn’t matter though. They were outnumbered. She had already counted ten of Frankie’s associates, and those were the only ones she could see.

Something flashed in the corner of her eye. She twisted her head to catch a bike flying toward them, coming to a screeching halt right in front of them.

Fenrys and Connall had their guns drawn as the person took off their helmet, platinum white hair swishing as she shook it out. Golden eyes turned on her. “Mrs. Archeron-Knight?” she asked.

Elain blinked, but Fenrys snarled out, “Who the fuck are you?”

She flashed a deadly smile. “My name is Manon Blackbeak. Your husband,” she nodded at Elain, “has asked me and my team to escort your SUV back to Velaris.”

A roaring sound echoed in the distance and then there were twelve other bikes, paired up as they flew across the parking lot to stop behind Manon.

“I—” she stuttered, not knowing what to say. “Who are you?”

“We’re called the Thirteen. He will explain what we do once we get you home.”

Elain was about to demand more of an explanation, but then she saw the men retreating. Every single one of them. Her eyes slid back to the woman in front of her, then down the team she had with her, all women if the body shapes were anything to go by. But then a phone was being placed against her ear and her husband’s voice was speaking.

“Elain.” He sounded terrified. “Love, Manon and her team are on my payroll. You can trust them to get you and Kaden home safely. Please get into the car.”

Just hearing his voice sent relief washing over her. Because if he trusted this woman and her team to keep them safe, then she knew she could too. “Let’s go,” she commanded, moving forward. Only once they were all inside the vehicle and back on the highway did she speak to her husband, reassuring him they were okay and giving him a lowdown on what happened.

He was in the garage when they pulled in, Manon and her team circling the driveway once and then departing with a salute to Azriel and her.

She was crushed in his arms, his mouth kissing her fiercely. “Are you guys all right?” he breathed, holding her at arm’s length and inspecting every inch of her.

Connall pulled Kaden from his booster seat, the little boy running around the car and slamming into his father’s legs.

Azriel wasted no time in lifting him onto his hip, kissing his temple before pulling her back into his embrace.

“We’re okay. Startled and anxious, but otherwise fine,” she reassured him.

He pulled them into the house, the twins slipping in behind them on silent feet. Az set them in the living room, tugging her down beside him while Kaden clung to his strong shoulders.

“How’d you get a team there so fast?” she asked, still trying to figure it out. Fenrys approached from the kitchen, handing her a cup of hot, peppermint tea. She smiled up at him in thanks.

“They were in Hewn for another job. I sent Manon an SOS text that took priority over what they were doing.

She raised a brow. “What other job?”

Azriel took her hand and placed a kiss across her knuckles. “Handling the remaining members of Hybern’s gang. I’ve had them hunting down the last of them since that night in the warehouse. There were rumors they wanted to seek revenge for the killing of their leader.”

The words were bloody and brutal, but she didn’t flinch. Not when those men held her captive in a warehouse, stabbed her thigh leaving a permanent scar on her pale flesh. No, she understood why her husband continued his pursuit of those animals.

She squeezed his hand in the reassurance that she understood why he was doing what he was, that she was okay with it, and that she agreed with his methods. His grip tightened in response.

They spent the following hour going over the next steps in how to handle the situation. Thoroughly exhausted from the ordeal, Kaden had fallen asleep on her husband’s shoulder and was now lying across one of the plush chairs with a blanket. The twins departed not long after Kaden fell asleep, leaving them to figure things out.

“I know you want to keep us safe, Az, believe me, I get it, but we need to figure out a compromise with them. I don’t want our children growing up always looking over their shoulders, just waiting to be attacked or kidnapped.”

He was hunched over, elbow braced on his knees. “There is no compromise with them. Frankie and Nicklaus are utterly ruthless.”

She gripped his bicep. “Everyone has a compromise. We just need to know—” Elain froze, the words falling from her lips.

Az swiveled his head to look at her, sitting up straight at whatever was showing on her face. “What is it, Elain?”

Brown eyes blinked, going back to the conversation she had with the eldest brother. Something he said was starting to tingle that sixth sense of hers. “He has a kid,” she breathed.

Brows furrowed. “Frankie?” Azriel asked, clearly confused. “No, he doesn’t. I would know if he had a kid. There’s not even a whisper of him having an heir.”

She shook her head. “Even if the child was over ten years old? You weren’t involved in their doing when we graduated high school, Az. And even the first few years after. What if he had a kid before then?”

He was looking at her now, eyes flicking between hers as he contemplated her words. “What did he say to make you think he has a kid?”

“He was trying to hint at what to get us,” her husband growled at that and she squeezed his arm again to stop him from interrupting. “But he said it had been a while since he bought anything from a baby store. I can’t see him buying baby things for somebody else, but I can see him doing it for his flesh and blood.”

Az was out of his seat and pacing the length of the living room. “That has to be it. He’s got a kid.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “If they were born when my father was alive, Frankie would’ve done anything to prevent him from finding out. He’d never let the bastard get close enough to hurt something so precious to him.” A colorful curse passed from between his parted lips. “I need to call Ruhn. If there’s a child, he has to be sending money to them and their mother. There’s no way he’d just abandon them, not if he took caution to hide them.”

“Azriel,” she said, rising from her spot on the couch. “If he does have a kid, what are you going to do with the knowledge?”

He met her gaze, and read the underlying question she didn’t need to say out loud. “I’m going to offer him a deal.”

~~~~~

Azriel rode up the elevator to the top floor of the building where the Illyrian Mob gathered to conduct their business. It wasn’t as large or fancy as his empire, but they also didn’t make the money that he did. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug about that.

In the metal box with him were four armed guards. He was stripped of his weapons upon entry and patted down indecently enough that he told the man to at least buy him dinner first. The comment, it seemed, wasn’t appreciated.

Nobody else was with him. He hated thinking about how hard Elain cried last night when he told her that he was entering the metaphorical lion’s den defenseless. Azriel knew that a lot of Elain’s emotions were hormone-based, which was why she couldn’t see his reasoning behind the need to go alone.

“Take the twins. Take Ruhn for fuck’s sake, Az! Just please don’t go in there alone.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

He stooped down to kneel in front of her. “Love, I have to go alone. If anyone else comes with me, they’ll deem it a threat. You know it has to be this way.” He reached up to wipe the tears away with his thumbs.

“I need you, Azriel,” she whispered, terrified. “Kaden needs you. Our babies need you. Please don’t go alone.”

There was nothing he could do but hold her as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Elain.”

It was the only time he’d ever disappoint his wife. Because here he was, weaponless and alone entering the office of the two men he hated most in the world. One of the guards knocked on the large doors, waiting for the snarled, “Enter.”

Like he was the motherfucking king, the guards gave him a double-door entrance, catching both of his brothers off guard.

Surprise, motherfuckers, he wanted to say, instead, settling on a lazy grin.

Nick reacted first, drawing his gun.

But Azriel threw up both of his hands in surrender. “Relax, Nicklaus. I am unarmed. Your guards downstairs made sure of it.” He dropped his arms when his brother lowered his gun slightly. “Do they always manhandle your visitors or am I just special because they know I got the impressive size of the family?” He was asking for trouble, but after getting his cock cupped by the fucker and still hearing his wife’s desperate pleas in his head, he was in a mood.

They ignored the quip. Damn.

Frankie leaned back in his seat. “Well, this is a surprise.”

Az cocked a brow. “Is it, brother? After you went after my wife and child?” He couldn’t stop the iciness of his tone, still raging over what happened a few weeks before. It had taken some time to track down what he needed to have this conversation and since then, he’d been on fucking edge.

“Did I actually go after them?”

He didn’t dare let his mask waiver. “Seeking her out at a baby store, sending an assault-sized team there, seems like an attempt to go after my pregnant wife and son.” He moved to take a seat across the desk from them, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat. “But I am willing to let that go.”

That had him frowning, the other looking equally as puzzled. “All right, I’ll bite,” Frankie said at last. “Why would you let that go?”

Azriel slipped his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, unlocking it and bringing up the image of Frankie’s best-kept secret. “Because of her.”

Silence wrapped around them like a shadow of discomfort as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

Frankie shot out of his chair, gun raised and poised to fire. “What the fuck is this, Azriel? Have you come to threaten me on my own turf? Because I swear to God I will fucking end you here and leave your wife to raise those spawn by herself.”

He let the threat roll right off his back, already expecting that reaction, which confirmed what he knew to be true. “Relax, Frankie. Nobody’s threatening anybody.” Az swiveled his phone to look at the girl on the screen and then began reciting the information he had gained about the girl. “Anya Velasco, sixteen; daughter of Delilah Velasco and,” he paused, glancing up at his fuming brother, “Francisco Matteo. Nice try in the change of the last name. Even on the birth certificate too. As if you could wipe your tainted image from her record” His eyes flitted back to the screen. “She’s pretty. Looks just like her mother, thank fuck, but I can see you there too. Her cheek structure and coloring. That’s all Illyrian.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you here,” Frankie snarled, finger never wavering from the trigger.

Az sighed, like this was the most inconvenient part of his day, tapping on the video call for a number labeled as “Rico’s Pizza.” It was Ruhn’s number, answering the call so that it showed Anya walking between classes at school. “You did a pretty thorough job in trying to hide her, Frankie, I’ll give you that. It took a lot of digging into your financials, but something stuck out to me. A random off-shore account that has been linked to your empire making very large donations and monthly payments to a private school housed deep in the northern mountains.” He grinned; letting a little bit of that darkness out with it. “Well, I for one, thought that seemed suspicious.

“Here’s what I think happened. You got the girl pregnant in high school. Wanting to protect her from father’s wrath, you hid her, I’m assuming with help…” he eyed Nick briefly, but he would’ve been fifteen at the time. “Alec if I had to take a guess. He was father’s right hand and you his. You could trust him. So, you paid off the girl and sent her up north to some remote area, paying her handsomely for her troubles and keeping her hidden for the last sixteen years. How am I doing so far?”

Frankie’s tanned face was flushed red in fury.

Checkmate brother.

“Choose your words wisely, brother,” Nick snapped, gun held tight in his grip. “They may be your last.”

He raised a brow. “Would be a shame if that happened,” Az muttered, clicking the end button on his video call. “Because if I don’t give the all clear to my associate in the next ten minutes, he’s to take both Anya and Delilah and run. And believe me, his resourcefulness means you will never see them again.”

“I thought you said you weren’t threatening,” Frankie demanded.

“I’m not. I said take, not kill.”

The brothers shared a look. “Why are you here?” Nicklaus finally asked.

His mouth curled up in the corner. “I’m here to make a deal. But first, you two need to lower the fucking guns before I get pissed off.”

It took them a few heartbeats, but finally, Frankie lowered his gun, setting it on the table so it still pointed at him. Nicklaus followed not a second after. “What’s your deal?” the former questioned.

Azriel reclined in his seat, fingers steepling together. “No harm will ever come to Anya and Delilah. Not by me or anyone on my crew. And they would have the full protection of the Velaris Mob. Between the two of us, they’d be untouchable.”

Frankie considered this. “And in exchange?”

“You provide the same promise and protection for my wife and children.” Az didn’t expect an agreement immediately, so he tossed out there, “If I found them, that means somebody else could as well. I know you like to keep your cards close to your chest, Frankie, but I’m sitting here with a royal flush and you know it.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “If somebody threatened them—”

“Then you would have my full support to wage war against whoever did so. Just as I would have yours if the roles were reversed.” And he meant it. Azriel had no desire to see harm come to that child, and he’d never allow Ruhn to hurt her or her mother just to get Frankie to agree to this. They would live in hiding, but they would be well cared for. And anyone who tried otherwise would face his wrath.

His brother looked at Nicklaus and sighed. “All right, Azriel. You have yourself a deal.” He reached across the desk, taking his hand in a tight shake.

As he rode down in the elevator, collecting his weapons and making his way to his car, Az sent Ruhn the all-clear signal. He called Elain on the way home, letting her know he was safe. She sobbed into the receiver, her overwhelming relief that he was returning to her. He soothed her as best as he could, but during that call, Azriel saw an image of his life in the future. He and Elain stood watching their little ones running around the backyard of their home, happy and laughing and full of so much life and love that his chest physically began to ache.

Because for the first time in a very long time, the dream Azriel pictured for himself was finally coming true.

~~~~~

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[olenvasynyt]

Does Azriel have a hero complex?

So I think a lot of SJM characters have a hero complex (Rhys and Aelin especially) but I want to talk about Az specifically because I think it is an essential part of his character.  

Now since barely get any POVs with Az we do not really know the inner workings of his mind and almost everything that we know about him is from other characters’ perspectives.  So this is all based on my interpretation of him and his actions, and not every action he makes is a result of a hero complex.  And I also don’t have a psychology degree or anything like that this is just for fun and a savior complex is not something you can diagnose anyway.  This is just a character analysis!  It’s fun.

Saving people

The basic definition of a hero complex is the constant need to save people.  Most people think of the knight and damsel in distress when a hero complex is mentioned, and this is true with Az: he has rescued Mor and Elain and Gwyn.  And rescuing people is of course part of it, but it’s a lot more intricate than just that; there are tons of other tendencies someone with a savior complex can have, and I personally think Az has tons of these tendencies.

2. very perceptive and sympathetic

A person with a hero complex is very perceptive and sympathetic.  They’re usually drawn to people who’ve had a lot of trauma.  They have a lot of empathy for others who are suffering.  They’re good at knowing what a person needs.  

You see this when he teaches Feyre to fly: he offers his backstory on how he learned and his love for the Nephelle philosophy to sympathize with her and this is actually the first time we hear Az talk a bit about his own past.  He is very sympathetic and perspective with Elain.  In ACOWAR he’s very quiet and courteous with her and offers to take her to see the garden.

I really like this quote: 

Page 334 of ACOWAR: It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her.  The male who heard things others could not…Perhaps he too had suffered as Elain before he understood what gift he possessed.

3. Doing the dirty but necessary work

A person with a hero complex does the dirty but necessary work that most people don’t want to do.  I would argue that being the court torture-master is doing the dirty work.  And Rhys’ father used him and his shadow abilities when he was alive and high lord, and he is part of Rhys’ inner circle so he is important and he votes on things, etc, but he still does the dirty work, he does the spying and the torturing.

Quote on page 175 of ACOMAF: “It’s hard to tell with him—and he’d never tell me.  I’ve witnessed Cassian rip apart opponents and then puke his guts up once the carnage stopped, sometimes mourn over them.  But Azriel…Cassian tries, I try…but I think the only person who ever gets him to admit his feelings is Mor.  And that’s only when his infinite patience runs out.”

Cassian says Rhys’ father ”kept [Az] for himself as his personal shadowsinger—mostly for spying and dirty work.” 

And you can’t really tell if as likes this work but it is important.  

In ACOMAF page 288:  ”Does he mind what he does?  Not the spying, I mean.  What he did to the Attor today.” ”It’s hard to tell with him—and he’d never tell me.  I’ve witnessed Cassian rip apart opponents and then puke his guts up once the carnage stopped, sometimes mourn over them.  But Azriel…Cassian tries, I try…but I think the only person who ever gets him to admit his feelings is Mor.  And that’s only when his infinite patience runs out.”

4. Dismissing their own needs/pain, neglecting self-care

And that sort of brings me to my next point: 

They dismiss their own needs and continue to help others even if it negatively impacts them.  Not only does he keep secrets about his past, but he doesn’t like when people worry about him.

ACOMAF page 288: ”Are you worried about Az going to the mortal lands tomorrow?”  ”Of course I am.  But Azriel has infiltrated places far more harrowing than a few mortal courts.  He’d find my worrying insulting.”

He works really hard and that’s another huge thing with a savior / hero complex.  He works himself so hard to the point where his friends worry for him.

Page 376 ACOMAF: ”Getting Azriel to take any time for himself that didn’t involve work or training was nearly impossible.”

He often wants to go into battle even when he was injured.

Quote from ACOWAR page 610:  ”The argument with Rhys this morning had been swift and brutal: Azriel insisted he could fly—fight with they legions….Rhys refused…Azriel threatened to slip into shadow and fight anyway.  Rhys merely said that if he so much as tried, he’d chain him to a tree…It was only when Mor had begged him that he relented.”

5. Emotional and psychological burnout

And all of this leads to burnout which is a huge thing with Az.  He’s obviously very broody, and he suppresses his feelings, works really hard doing very laborious and traumatizing things and this leads to burnout.  We have evidence of this from not only his broodiness and quietness,

Page 293 of ACOMAF: Az gets back from the mortal realm, he’s described as needing to “return and assess…assess—and brood, it seemed, since Azriel had barely managed a polite hello to me before launching into sparring with Rhysand, his face grim and tight.” Used sparring to ”help work off his frustration”.

but physically too with the headaches that he gets.

Page 186 of ACOFAS:  “I had Madja make it for me.  It’s a powder to mix in with any drink…it’s for the headaches everyone always gives you.  Since you rub your temples too often.”

6. Low self-esteem, need for perfection

He doesn’t think he’s good enough, he doesn’t think his work is enough, he doesn’t think his ’heroic actions’ are enough.  You can see this with his spies; he wants his spying to be perfect to help people and help his High Lord. 

Page 376 ACOMAF: —the frustration of not being able to get his spies or himself into those courts took a toll on him.  The standards to which he held himself, [Mor] confided in me, bordered on sadistic. 

(this also contributes to the fact that he pushes himself too hard)

ACOMAF 205-206, Rhys says  ”I don’t trust this information, even with your sources…”  ”They can be trusted,” Azriel said with quiet steel, his scarred hands clenching at his leather-clad sides.  ”We aren’t taking risks where this is concerned,” Rhys merely said.  He held Azriel’s stare, and I could almost hear the silent words Rhys added, It is no judgement or reflection on you, Az.  Not at all. But Azriel yielded no tinge of emotion as he nodded, his hands unfurling. ”So what do we have planned?” Mor cut in—perhaps for Az’s sake.

Everyone understands he has low self esteem.

Page 256 ACOMAF: ”He set down his fork, blinking.  I might even called him self-conscious.”

And in ACOWAR Rhys says he doesn’t think he’s good enough for Mor.

Page 460 of ACOWAR:  Feyre: ”But—he loves her.  How can he sit idly by?” Rhys: ”He thinks she’s happier without him…he thinks he’s unworthy of her.”

I go back and forth between if he thinks he’s deserving of Elain or not, because this quote says he isn’t worthy,

ACOSF bonus chapter: “She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their  scars.  Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to skin, tainting her with his presence.  But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.”

but another quote in the bonus chapter implies so does think he’s worthy but I’ll talk about that later.

7. Guilt and overthinking

Az seems to often feel guilty when one of the plans goes wrong; he thinks he didn’t do as much as he could have.

Page 346 of ACOWAR:  ”Hybern had made its grand move at last.  And we had not anticipated it.  I knew Azriel would take the blame upon himself.  One look at the shadowsinger…told me he already did.”

He may have felt guilty for not reaching Cassian in time when he was gutted fighting that Hybern commander in ACOWAR

Page 543 of ACOWAR:  ”’By the time Az got there, he was down.’ Azriel’s face was stone-cold, even as his hazel eyes fixed unrelentingly upon that knitting wound.”

He might feel guilty for not helping Mor enough with Az, and he also feels guilty for keeping Rhys’ plan to let Keir into Velaris a secret.

Page 414 of ACOWAR:  "Whether [Mor] knew that though she’d tried to move past the bargain we’d made, the guilt of it still haunted Azriel, she didn’t let on.”

And when Eris calls More a slut, Az attacks him violently and Feyre has to call him off.  And I think this was a telling sign of his guilt:  

Page 429 of ACOWAR: 

”As Azriel turned his face toward me—The frozen rage rooted me to the spot.  But beneath it, I could almost see the images that haunted him: the hand Mor had yanked away, her weeping, distraught face as she had screamed at Rhys.”

He defends people to make up for his guilt, which sort of brings me to my next point:

8. Issues with overstepping boundaries and self-efficacy

I’m not talking about him kissing Elain in the bonus chapter and overstepping the boundaries of her mating bond with Lucien.  I’m talking about how a person with a hero complex oversteps and takes on other people’s responsibilities/problems.  With self-efficacy, a person with a hero complex might unintentionally undermine someone’s self-efficacy by not allowing them to face and overcome challenges on their own.

And he doesn’t do this all the time. In fact there are situations, specifically emotional situations that don’t pertain to him, that he walks away from and he goes ” That’s not my business.”

But you see this with Mor a lot, he is super defensive for Mor: when Eris calls her a slut during the High Lord’s meeting, he attacks him and chokes him out.  He jumps to her defense all the time even when she doesn’t ask for it.

He also refuses Elain’s offer to look for the Trove in ACOSF:

Page 311 of ACOSF: “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide.  I say we approach Elain tomorrow.  Better to have both of them working on it.” Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

9. Fear of abandonment and rejection

And all of this pertaining to the hero complex, including overstepping boundaries, continuously helping, etc can be because of their fear of rejection.  A person with a savior complex fears being alone so they continuously help others to ensure their relationship continues.

Az actually tried to bring up his feelings for Mor after he rescues her from the Autumn court border and she leaves (talk about bad timing AZ) but I feel like Az hasn’t brought up his love for Mor because he fears rejection and also because of his low self-esteem.

Mor often has an argument with Rhys and he turns to Az to defend her and often he’s hesitant.  

Page 186 of ACOWAR:  Mor whipped her head to Azriel.  ”What do you think?”  The shadowsinger held her stare, his face unreadable.  Considering.  I tried not to hold my breath.  Defending the female he loved or siding with his High Lord…”It’s not my call to make.” ”That’s a bullshit answer,” Mor challenged.   ”I could have sworn hurt flickered in Azriel’s eyes, but he only shrugged.

You see this with his guilt that I brought up before with not doing enough to stop Hybern from attacking in ACOWAR, and his guilt over not telling Mor about their plan with Kier and Eris and letting Keir have access to Velaris.  

And this is an excellent quote:

Page 460 of ACOWAR:  ”There will come a day when Azriel has to decide if he is going to fight for her or let her go.  And it won’t be because some other male insults her or beds her.”

And he probably fears rejection from Elain.

10. A need for validation

Now another tendency a person with a savor complex can have is the need for validation, they want acknowledgment for the good things they’ve done, and this can lead to resentment if they are acknowledged.

And I don’t necessarily think this is Az, I feel like he would just say that helping is his job, being spymaster is his job, saving people is his job” but you can see in the bonus chapter of Silver Flames when Rhys asks him if he thinks he deserves Elain as a mate, he says ”I don’t think Lucien will be good enough for him” which in my opinion implies that Az thinks he is more heroic / more worthy of having Elain as a mate and sees Lucien as a coward.

ACOSF bonus chapter: “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” “You believe you deserve to be her mate?"   “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her…”

There are obviously tons of other aspects of a hero complex beside a knight rescuing a damsel that I think apply to Az; he is a super traumatized and I think his hero complex / heroism in general is a result of that.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #tiktok video summary #character analysis #mor acotar #elain archeron #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses

[writingsbychlo]

your brain is incredible omg!

my word for you is:

communication

"The key to an effective relationship..." Feyre smiled, flipping her hand over and holding it out to her mate, balancing her newborn in her other one. Rhysand slipped his hand into her own, grinning proudly and lifting their joined hands up to kiss the back of her palm.

"Is good communication." He finished for her, the table around you all falling silent. For a second, a pin could have been heard dropping, and you desperately tried to contain your snicker, feeling Azriel's amusement rippling down the bond into your chest and only making it worse.

Luckily, it wasn't you who broke the silence, but Nesta. She made a gagging sound, while Cassian let out a loud 'boo', and both the High Lord and Lady's smiles turned to scowls as laughter burst out around the dinner table.

"The key to an effective relationship is communication!" Cassian mocked, and even Amren chuckled, as Nesta only shook her head. The two had been reprimanded for over ten minutes by the youngest Archeron for yet another argument at the dinner table, one they'd tried to drag everyone else into, and clearly, none of that scolding had sunken in.

"Not all of us can literally read each other's minds." Nesta sniped in return, smirking into her wine glass as her sister huffed, and Rhys glared at her.

"You asked for advice, Nesta."

"I did not! I asked who the Hell wanted to bother with a mate when they're so fucking annoying!" She elbowed Cassian, who only sat smugly in his seat, blowing a kiss at her.

"Language!" Rhys burst, covering his son's ears, a bout of power rustling through the room and trembling the wine glasses, and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, c'mon, Rhys! I don't think the word 'fuck' is gonna' affect him, he's three months old. He can't even hold his own head up yet, he's not about to start cursing like a sailor."

"Oh, and I suppose you have some better advice to offer? I don't see you helping!" He was all but pouting now, and Azriel shrugged, the arm stretched out along the back of your chair lifted, hands playing with the ends of your hair softly.

"As the longest-mated couple here, perhaps our advice would be best, my love." Azriel sounded so sincere, so genuine, and a quiet hush fell around the table at his confidence. What they weren't privy to, however, was the mischievous tug you felt in your chest as he turned to smile lovingly at you.

"Alright. Well, I could tell you some more things like... the key to a good relationship is love, and patience."

"And unending loyalty. Give and take, compromise to make your lover happy." Azriel added, and you preened a little for effect, running your thumb over his cheek, as he offered a doting smile your way, though.

"The most important, though..."

"And, really, this is crucial..." Azriel emphasised, letting his brows pull together seriously, and everyone seemed to practically lean in. Even Amren was paying attention now.

You let the tension sit for a moment, let them stew in it, eyes moving across every single person at the table as they all waited eagerly, until you were sure someone was about to snap.

"Is being able to give really good head." Azriel finally finished, and Rhysand choked on the wine he was sipping, Feyre gasped and covered her child's ears again, and Cassian all but fell out of his chair with laughter.

"That, and a massive dick."

At that, Azriel beamed, the sound of your high-five echoing around the dining room, almost lost to the sounds of raucous laughter.

"Dammit, so Cassian has neither of the traits I need." Nesta sighed, and Cassian's indignant spluttering began. As more playful bickering broke out, you leaned a little further into your mate's side, feeling him nuzzle at your temple, leaving a kiss in his wake.

"How about I show you some of that really good head later?" He muttered into your hair, and you sent a pang of heat back to him in answer, feeling his responding breathless chuckle.

"I can't wait."

#q.

[violet-shadows]

I’m supposed to protect you.

Summary: When a sparring match with your mate goes south, Cassian is left to pick up the pieces with a guilty conscience.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: accidental violence, description of a head injury, non-graphic description of vomiting

A/N: Did anyone ask for a Cassian fic? No. Did anyone ask for more angst? Also no. Am I capable of writing something completely lighthearted? Probably not. Hope you like it anyway! As per usual, comments, feedback, and interactions feed my soul. See end notes for a related PSA.

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

It really had been an accident. You were in the training ring, toe to toe with your mate, closing out a particularly hard session with a final round of sparring. At first glance, the two of you seemed unevenly matched, but where Cassian had raw power, you had speed. Even you would admit that, in a real fight, you were no match for Cassian’s incredible strength and centuries of training, but when you sparred, you couldn’t resist using your agility against him. This tactic annoyed Cassian to no end and he would complain the whole way through that it would never work on a real battlefield. Usually, it ended with the two of you stumbling out of the ring towards your shared bedroom, panting, sweaty, and incredibly frustrated. If you were being honest, working Cassian up this way was simply a means to a very pleasurable end. An end you were looking forward to as you dodged yet another blow, darting under his arm at the last second. You let out a breathless laugh, skittering back as he gave a cry of frustration. You had been at this for a while, and Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, was losing his patience. If things progressed as usual, you would soon have your hands on each other in an entirely different manner.

Things did not progress as usual.

Perhaps it was the heat of the day, or the exhaustion of the long training session, but both of you fell off your game. You had been dodging Cassian successfully for long enough that he was lulled into a false sense of security. In his efforts to land a blow, he forgot to pull his punches. Cassian never hit you with full force, even when you encouraged him to give his all; he couldn’t stomach the risk of hurting you. But, as you danced out of reach with each swing, the possibility that one of his punches might land slipped from his mind. In the same moment that Cassian pulled back and swung, you lost your balance. Later, you would blame the heat and dehydration for the creeping tunnel vision that momentarily robbed you of your ability to evade. You didn’t feel the punch, but Cassian did.

He watched in horror as his fist connected with the side of your face with a sickening crunch. He tried to pull back, but the momentum of his swing brought you to the ground in an instant, where he could do nothing but watch as your head bounced off the stone. Time seemed to slow as Cassian watched helplessly, as though trapped in a nightmare.

He was on his knees in an instant, cushioning your head with one hand while he cradled your cheek in the other. “Y/N?” Cassian tried to rouse you and his heart began to race when you didn’t respond, your face pale and unmoving. “Y/N! C’mon Sweetheart, talk to me!”

 His tone was beginning to take on a frantic edge and Azriel appeared next to him, a concerned look on his face as he crouched down to assess you. Getting knocked out in training wasn’t entirely uncommon, though Illyrians could take quite a blow without wavering. Usually, when someone did go down, it was only a few seconds before they were awake again, no worse for the wear save for a considerable headache. Every once in a while, though, a soldier would go down and stay down after taking a blow like that. Both Illyrians knew those types of hits could be dangerous, even deadly, under the wrong circumstances.

 “Get a healer!” Cassian’s breaths were coming in short gasps now and the hands carefully cradling your head began to shake. He wasn’t sure if anyone moved, his gaze locked on your too pale face, so he called out again, this time screaming for good measure. “GET A FUCKING HEALER!”

His shout seemed to rouse you and you groaned, your face pinching in pain. Cassian turned back to you then, his voice infinitely gentle as he addressed you once more, “Sweetheart? Can you hear me?”

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

 The first thing you registered was Cassian’s soft voice coaxing you out of your dreamlike state. Calloused hands carded through your hair with featherlight touches and for a moment you thought you were back in your bed, basking in the early morning sunlight with your mate. When you opened your eyes, however, the illusion was shattered by the sharp sunlight which elicited a jolt of throbbing pain in your head. You whimpered, scrunching your eyes closed again, and even that movement brought some pain. Your limbs felt heavy and numb and you struggled to remember what you had been doing just moments before, or why you needed to open your eyes in the first place when you were so terribly tired. Surely Cassian would understand if you slept for just a few moments longer, you reasoned.

 The thought of your mate drew your attention to his scent, a delicious medley of smoked cedar, cinnamon, and pine sap, which was currently tinged with a note of something else. Anxiety? Fear? The thought of him in distress was sobering and you opened your eyes once more. This time, the sunlight didn’t blind you, blocked out by Cassian’s wings flared around you in a protective cocoon. Though your vision was oddly blurry, you could make out the scrunch of his eyebrows and downturn of his lips that meant something was wrong. You opened your mouth to ask him when you were suddenly aware that he was speaking to you and had been for quite some time, his worry mounting as you failed to answer.

 “Cas?”

 “I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry. Az is getting a healer.” His voice was low and unusually somber. You squinted, trying to clear your vision so you could get a better look at his face.

 “What’s wrong?” You moved to sit up, but Cassian’s hand was on your shoulder, gently pinning you to the ground.

 “Stay down until the healer gets here, okay, baby. It’s going to be okay.” A cursory glance at your surroundings told you that you were in the training ring, lying on the stone floor off to the side. Your mind was beginning to clear, then, and you began to deduce that there must have been some sort of mishap in training. You tried to look around for more clues, but the more you moved your eyes, the more your vision swam, so you resolved to keep your gaze fixed on Cassian’s face instead.

It wasn’t long before Madja appeared at your side, her hands ghosting over your face and skull in an instant. You winced when her hands made contact and your mate let out a low rumble of warning. Azriel moved to clap him on the shoulder, but he did not pull him away. After a minute or two, Madja deemed it safe to have you sit up. Cassian helped guide you into a seated position, his large hand never leaving its spot between your shoulder blades. The motion made your stomach roll uncomfortably, the spinning sensation exacerbated by your movement.

 “Do you remember what happened?” Madja asked.

 “I hit my head?” You tried and failed to sound confident.

 “How did you hit your head?” Madja’s hands returned to your face, and you winced, diving into your memory for the answer and coming up empty.

 “Sparring?”

 “What’s the last thing you remember?” Cassian tensed at the question, his arm coming to curl around your shoulder along with one broad wing.

 “Breakfast,” you admitted after a long pause. You thought you heard Cassian let out a choked noise, but Madja’s continued questions and the churning of your stomach distracted you.

 “Likely a nasty concussion,” she soothed, “you should be fine. You’ll probably have a headache and be sleepy for a little while. I’ll give you something for the pain. You may also experience some nausea but—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence before you were jolting to the side, gagging as you expelled the contents of your stomach. The action increased the pressure in your head tenfold and only Cassian’s hands on your shoulders kept you from slumping forward as you wretched, your vision going white. When you were finished, you slumped back into his side, your cheek resting against his chest as he rubbed soothing circles into your arm with his thumb. A cup of water and rag appeared before you, courtesy of Azriel, and you smiled gratefully as you accepted it with shaking hands. Madja finished giving instructions to Cassian, who nodded along above you as you drew deep, shuttering breaths, trying to ward off overwhelming vertigo and the thrumming ache in your head.

 “Get some rest.” You heard Madja’s instructions and mumbled your thanks. When she turned to leave, Cassian gathered you into his arms with practiced grace, tucking your head securely under his chin. His steps were slow and careful as if he were carrying fragile crystal or a priceless sculpture. With your head on his chest, you could hear his heart still beating rapidly, as though he was in a fight that hadn’t yet ended.

 “Cassian, I’m okay.” You reached down the bond to the unease you felt there and tried to soothe it, but your mate didn’t respond, simply pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head in answer. When you reached your room, he laid you down with care, a sharp contrast to the way he had tossed you onto the mattress the evening prior. He didn’t say a word as he moved about the room, gathering up some pajamas, a bowl of warm water, and some washcloths. His uncharacteristic silence was unsettling, and when he kneeled before you to help you out of your shoes, you reached out to cup his face, pulling his gaze upwards to meet yours. “Cas.”

The battle hardened calm dissolved and his face twisted anguish as he looked at you, a bruise already beginning to bloom on your cheekbone. “This is my fault.” He choked out. You opened your mouth the argue but he continued, shaking his head. “We were sparring and you were doing that thing where you just keep dodging me and I was getting frustrated— I never meant to hit you.” His voice was strangled as he went on and he swallowed thickly. The sight of his hazel eyes wide and lined with tears had you launching forward, ignoring the throb in your skull as you pulled him into your arms.

“I know you didn’t mean to, baby,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “We were sparring, I messed up. It happens.” You wanted to say more, to argue with him that training accidents were an occupational hazard, and he needn’t feel guilty, but the exhaustion from earlier was beginning to return. Cassian noticed, pulling away to place a gentle kiss on your forehead before he helped you out of your training clothes and into some pajamas. When you laid back, he set about fussing with your pillows before tucking the blanket around you. You gave him a sleepy, fond smile and reached out to squeeze his hand. He returned the gesture, his eyes impossibly soft as he observed you. A knock at the door startled you and Cassian shot to his feet in an instant, the tension returning to his shoulders before relaxing slightly when he scented the presence on the other side. He opened the door and you caught sight of Azriel in the hallway as the two exchanged hushed words. He met your eyes and gave you a friendly nod before turning to leave.

 “A potion Madja made for the headache and nausea,” Cassian handed you a vial of opaque, greenish brown liquid and a glass of water before stashing several more vials on the dressing table. You grimaced as you swallowed the bitter liquid and resisted the urge to down the glass of water, not yet trusting your uneasy stomach. “And some ice, courtesy of Feyre.” The cold stung at first, but after a moment you felt it begin to numb the ache at your temple.

“Can I get you anything else? Do you want to try and eat something?” The thought of food made your stomach roll, and you shook your head, wincing as the movement sent a wave of pain over your scalp.

“Just lay with me,” you patted the spot in bed next to you and Cassian obliged, lifting his arm so you could lay your head on his bare chest. Enveloped by your mate’s warmth, you allowed the steady sound of his heartbeat to lull you to sleep.

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

You woke up the next morning with a raging headache and the other side of the bed empty. You cracked your eyes open with a groan to find that your mate had not, in fact, left your side, but was instead seated in an armchair pulled from the corner of the room up to your bedside. Already aware of your awakening, he set the book he had been failing to read down on the floor. “Why are you sitting in a chair? In your own room?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He stood then, walking to the dressing table to retrieve one of Madja’s green potions and fill a glass of water.

“And you couldn’t continue lying in bed because?” You teased before downing the bitter liquid.

“I was afraid I would accidentally fall asleep,” he shrugged, his gaze fixed on his hands as he reclaimed his seat next to you.

“Have you been up all night?” A closer look at him revealed dark circles under his eyes and a weariness to his features.

“I had to keep an eye on you, make sure nothing happened.” He again spoke as though any alternative was preposterous. Warmth bloomed in your chest, but so did concern.

 “Oh Cas,” you smiled softly at him, “you worry too much”.

 “It was the least I could do considering…” his gaze had drifted to your bruised temple, a distant look in his eyes. “I never meant to land that punch. I was stupid and I miscalculated. And, by the Mother, Sweetheart. I am so sorry. I promised to never hurt you and I did.”

You beckoned him closer, scooting to make room for him in your large, shared bed. “Baby, it is not your fault. These things happen in training, it’s how we learn.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he heeded your unspoken invitation and slid under the covers next to you. “Don’t tell me you wallow like this every time you deck Azriel.” You meant to lighten the mood, but Cassian flinched at the words, his jaw clenching.

“You’re not Azriel. You’re my mate. I’m supposed to protect you, not hurt you,” his voice was suddenly hoarse, and he stared at his hands. “I keep remembering the feeling of— of hitting you and it makes me sick.”

“It was an accident, my love. Nothing more. You always have and always will protect me.” You whispered to him. He seemed to relax despite himself, the storm raging in his hazel eyes quelling slightly. “Now, how about we both get some more rest.”

“I love you,” he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I love you and that will never happen again.”

“I love you, too. I believe you. Now please, get some sleep.” You settled in, draping an arm across his stomach to hold him in place this time.

“Only if you do, too.”

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

End Note: The description of a concussion is based on my own experiences with a TBI, so hopefully I did it justice. Please note that most concussions do not result in loss of consciousness, and just because a person remains awake after taking a blow to the head does not mean that they are okay. If someone does lose consciousness, they need immediate medical attention. In real life, with real humans, the situation described above should warrant a call to emergency services. Here is a link for more info about concussions and traumatic brain injuries.

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

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#cassian x reader #cassian x oc #cassian fanfic #cassian #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

[sareeen]

Apple pie spiced with tears

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: You run into Azriel in the middle of a quiet night and he keeps a promise he made to you months ago.

Warnings: fluff, smut, more smut and of course a cake ;)

A/N: It took a long time, but I finally managed to finish the new part. Thank you all for your patience. :) English is not my mother tongue so I apologize if there are any mistakes in the text. Criticism is very welcome. :)

You find Part 1 here

Four months later:

The dark room felt like a prison when I woke up in the middle of the night. My nightgown clung sweatily to my skin as I kicked off the heavy blanket and sat up. With a weary sigh, I dropped my head into my hands as images of the nightmare came back to me. It wasn't really a nightmare at all, it was my troubled mind recalling that terrible day. The feeling of the scalding water on my skin, the screams of my sisters and the eerie voices whispering to me in the Cauldron.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and stroked across my pointed ears. It was still hard to believe what I was, what I had become.

Walking down the corridor, I passed the others' rooms. First door on the right was Nesta, then Elain, Cassian and finally Azriel.

Azriel.

Nothing had happened between us since that night in our house. There hadn't been a touch, a smile, or even a glance. All I got from him was distance and cool politeness. At first, I hoped that maybe he was just giving me time to get used to my new life and perhaps to get used to having me around. However, as the months went by nothing happened, so I gave up on him. At least I tried.

Shaking my head, I continued on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water and, of course, some cake. Many things have changed in the past few months, but some things never will.

Entering the kitchen, however, I stopped when I found myself face to face with Azriel.

He wasn't wearing a T-shirt, giving me a glimpse of his chiseled, sun-kissed torso. His tattoos ran in a curvilinear line from the base of his neck to his chest, down to his biceps, which tightened as the shadow singer raised the glass to his mouth for a sip of water. Cautiously I took a step forward, my heart beating loudly with excitement as he caught my gaze. His eyes widened slightly as he saw me and placed the glass on the counter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you" I slowly, hesitantly took another step towards the cupboard where I finally took a glass from. He never took his eyes off me, watching my every move with a wary gaze that made me even more nervous.

"You didn't scare me," he said. "I was merely surprised. We always seem to run into each other in the kitchen."

My hand tightened around the glass as he referred back to that night and I felt my throat tighten.

"Yes, it seems so" I said in a strangled voice and sat down on the chair next to the round, shiny table.

In the dim light of the kitchen, Azriel's eyes almost glowed, giving him a devilish look, especially as he asked the next question that squeezed all the air from my lungs.

"Would you like some cake?"

My heart was pounding as I watched him open the fridge and casually bend down to see what was on offer. A few black strands fell into his forehead as he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing through the thick strands that I knew exactly how soft they were. How it felt when I stroked my hands between them and the way they curled around my fingers as I gripped them.

The sounds he made as I did it.

"What would you like?" his deep voice pulled me back to reality. He was listening expectantly, but there was a mischievous glint that made me realise something.

He's playing with me.

I squirmed uneasily as I asked back.

"Do I have more options?"

"Carrot cake, peanut butter cake and" he listed. "Apple pie."

"Apple pie sounds good."

"Good choice," he said, as the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile.

He took the plate with the said dessert from the fridge and when he placed it in front of me I understood the reason for his mirth.

It was a cute little cake, the chef had cut hearts out of the leftover dough and placed them on top. Now it was as if the neatly shaped hearts were taunting me as I looked down at them with a knot in my stomach and wondered what to do. Azriel's presence both embarrassed and excited me. For months I had fantasized about being alone with him. Not just about making good on the promise he had made months ago, but about simply talking or enjoying quiet moments together.

To get the silly thoughts out of my head, I violently stuck my fork into the cake and stuffed a good portion into my mouth, lest I do something stupid.

Like kissing him again.

Azriel followed my example, though he took a less gingerly and much smaller bite. We ate in silence for a few minutes, the stillness of the night warmly embracing us.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

His question was so unexpected that I froze for a moment, my hands still in the air. The heart on top of the cake fell to the plate and broke in two, like some bad metaphor for how I'd been feeling lately.

"Yes" I replied simply. There was no way to sugarcoat the situation, everyone knew anyway that the Archeron sisters' nights were not restful. More than once I was awakened by Nesta's screams or Elain's confused mutterings as she paced the corridor like a ghost who could find no peace.

I was embarrassed, so to avoid looking at him, I used my fingernail to scrape off one of the little dried edges of the cake, but after a few moments of hesitation, Azriel reached across the table and gently took my hand. I froze as he took it in his, his calluses rubbing my palm gently.

"You don't have to worry," he said in a soft voice as I closed my eyes to keep the tears from spilling out, which were building. "You and your sisters will never get hurt again. We will take care of you. I'll take care of you."

A tear found its way out, slowly sliding down my cheek. I heard Azriel move, then felt his hot breath hit my right cheek.

His lips were hot against my skin as he kissed away my tears.

"I'll banish your bad dreams" His scent, cedar and evening cool mist, crept into my nose. My tears were flowing non-stop by then, but I still hadn't opened my eyes. It was like a dream. Unlike the others, however, it was wonderful.

"Azriel" I whispered in a shaky voice, but he ignored me.

"I made you forget your bad memories" kissed another tear off me, this time on my left cheek. I laid my hand blindly on his cheek, my thumbs softly stroking his soft skin.

"I made you forget all the bad things in this world, Y/N" he murmured softly, then pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

This time we took our time, slow and sweet as honey. At first our lips merely touched, neither of us moving, as if any movement could break the spell of this moment. Then Azriel took the back of my nape in his hands and tilted my head to the side to deepen the kiss. His mouth moved gently over mine, and I instinctively responded and kissed him back. His sigh stirred something deep inside me. My hand slipped from his face and I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him closer.

The shadow singer's hand slid down my back to my waist, then he grabbed me and with playful ease lifted me up and placed me on the table. He leaned on either side of me, his strong arms trapping me as he slowly pulled away and kissed my closed eyes.

"Now I'm going to keep my word."

The half-closed eyes, full of glowing desire, held a promise that made me tremble. My heart leapt out of its place as I pulled his head to mine again to kiss him and show him that I longed for this too.

"About time," I whispered before our lips met.

He laughed into our kiss, which made my mouth pull into a smile. I felt happy and light, the way I hadn't felt in months.

He leaned forward, the huge body of a man towering over me tantalisingly, and pushed me down on the table. The hard wood felt cool on my back and my soaked nightgown, but Azriel seemed to sense it, grabbed the silk that was curled up around my waist and quickly pulled it of me.

I whimpered as he torned himself from my lips, I would have protested, however Azriel kissed all the way down my neck to my rapidly rising chest, leaving wet kisses behind.

"Your skin is so soft" he murmured. His thumbs gently stroked my prancing nipples, and I turned my head in pleasure. "I wonder if your nipples taste like peaches, after all, they are the color of peach blossoms."

I was almost unable to bear the pleasure as he took one in his mouth. My body twitched, trying to get as close to him as possible, to rub against him. Anything to relieve the heat between my legs, which was getting stronger by the minute and almost painful.

"Please," I begged. The spymaster let go of my nipple with a smack, his bottom lip glistening as he looked up at me with his darkening golden brown eyes. Our gazes locked, I watched with a pant as he pulled a chair towards him and sat down.

"What are you doing?" I asked desperately.

If he leaves me like this, I'll surely be destroyed. I'll catch fire and simply burn.

"What did you do before?" his strong hands spread my legs wide. They rested on his broad shoulders as he leaned forward and flashed me a mischievous grin. "You were eating sweets."

At the first touch of his tongue, I sank my teeth into my lips to keep from groaning loudly.

I didn't have much experience, I'd only been with a man once in my life but I was pretty sure that Azriel was second to none because the way he pleased me was something fantastic.

My hips bucked, I wanted him to go on and stop at the same time. There was almost too much to touch as his tongue slid along my entrance all the way to my clit.

I wasn't able to hold back my voice for long, moaning and groaning as I moved my hips to get even closer to his mouth. Azriel gently nipped my clit between his teeth, which made me grip the edge of the table as I felt the world turn one with me. He placed his strong hands on either side of my hips and began to guide my movements, drawing me even closer to him.

A familiar warmth began to spread across the bottom of my belly, a fine layer of sweat sitting out on my body. One of Azriel's hands slid up my stomach, up to my breasts, which he cupped between his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my nipple, gently crumbling it, driving me almost mad.

"Azriel, I don't think I can take much more," I muttered, almost for myself. "I'm so close..."

But he started to pleasure me with even more intensity and devotion.

I gasped as his free arm slipped under my thighs and placed it on my belly, pinning me to the table. He sucked first one of my labia between his lips, then the other, and his tongue circled my entrance, then dipped inside me, once, twice, three times. I gasped, the desire rising even higher inside me. I stabbed into his hair as he groaned, the sound resonating through me and that was the end of me. The air was husky inside me, and under my closed eyelids, stars seemed to explode as I rode my orgasm.

Eyes still closed, panting, I reached for Azriel's hand, still resting on my stomach. He squeezed it and pressed a soft kiss to it, then I heard the chair creak as he stood up. Then suddenly I found myself in the air between his arms, before my eyes popped open and I laughed in surprise. He threw me over his shoulder and playfully slapped my bottom.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Y/N" he started down the hallway while I hung on top of him. "So don't you dare fall asleep."

He carried me across the hallway, his hands gripping my thighs firmly and occasionally sliding one up and down to my groin gently stroking me. Of course, it was all accidental.

When we got to my room, he gently slid me down his body. The stone was cold under my feet, the coolness of the room felt like a soft touch on my hot skin.

Azriel looked down at me, his golden brown eyes, reminiscent of melted caramel, boring into mine. Pure desire radiated from him.

He put his scarred hands on my right shoulder and guided me towards the bed until my feet reached the edge and I sat down on them. Azriel towered over me, both hands resting on my cheeks and leaning down to give me a hot, mind-numbing kiss. My chest heaved and I felt breathless from the emotions rushing over me. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life.

I squealed in shock as he suddenly turned me over and I felt his lips on my back. Breathlessly, he kissed along the scars, whispering sweet words that brought tears to my eyes again.

"You're perfect just the way you are," he murmured as his tongue wandered up and sucked my neck, then licked the burning skin. Whimpering, I pressed my hips to his lap, rubbing against his hardness, which he let for a moment then lowered himself with a wicked laugh and used his weight to push me down onto the mattress so I couldn't move.

"It's not fair" I whimpered. "You're playing with me."

"I might" he said now right next to my ear and then whispered in my ear. "But it's so much fun"

However, this game is played by two.

His hardness was pressed against my buttocks, so I squirmed until it was perfectly flush between my two butt cheeks. I squeezed them and listened with pleasure as Azriel groaned in amazement behind me.

"Evil woman."

He rolled me over and let me pull his pants down so I could take him in my hand. Azriel was big, bigger and thicker than I expected, but all the more perfect. My hand pressed tightly against the soft skin, smoothing it from top to balls. I repeated the motion several times before a tiny drop of pleasure appeared on his acorn, which I smeared with my thumb. The spymaster's hips twitched, deep moans erupted from the depths of his throat, which made me even more aroused.

He let me explore at my leisure for a few minutes, then turned onto his back and sat me on his lap. His index finger trailed along my wet cut, then he slipped between them and gently slid inside me, first one finger, then a few moments later the second. My head snapped back from the sensation as he bent them in and after a brief search, found the spot that made my breath catch and my legs tremble.

I put my hand on his wrist, my hips swaying.

"It's good, right?" he whispered hoarsely, watching me as I followed his finger movements. All I could manage was a murmur of approval, the nerve endings between my thighs pulsing, signalling that another pleasure was not far away. However, I wanted him to come with me this time, to be inside me.

Panting, I rose, the absence of his fingers leaving a screaming void.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, I want you inside me" I whispered with a heaving chest. "Now"

The spymaster's hand that had been resting on my waist now squeezed tighter as he leaned into me with a burning gaze and nipped my bottom lip between his teeth, then pulled me to his hard chest. As our naked skin touched we both groaned in pleasure.

"Your request is my command, miss."

He guided me over his hardness, which was proudly arching and patiently waiting for me to make the first move. I aligned it with my entrance and gently guided him into me as far as my body would allow. I furrowed my eyebrows as at one point I was uncomfortable descending any lower and my body would not allow him any further. Azriel immediately came to my aid, gently lifting me up and then gently guiding me down again. He did this until I was stretched out enough to take him all in.

I placed my trembling hands on his chest, steely pecs tensing under my touch as I moved my hips slightly. Azriel took his time, letting me get used to the sensation as he filled me.

"I've never been on top before" I whispered shyly as I made another attempt.

He leaned on his elbow to bring our upper bodies together and pressed a reassuring kiss to my lips. He gently tilted his hips as if inviting me to play and slid hotly up inside me, which I accepted with a ragged breath.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and timidly lifted up and then down. It was a wonderful sensation, the kind that made my fingernail dig gently into the back of his neck, eliciting a moan from the spymaster. Our hips met in the next movement, slowly finding that delicious rhythm that drove us both crazy.

"Azriel," I gasped as he caught one of my nipples between his lips as I rose to rest on his chest again. His tongue licked around it, then he leaned in and repeated the motion. The heat between my legs became even more intense thanks to this, I shivered and began to feel that certain tingling sensation that starts before the end.

Azriel cried out, dug between my curls and pushed harder inside me. I kissed him softly, his tongue creeping into my mouth and swallowing my increasingly loud moans. I started to move faster and faster, the sensation swelling inside me and I knew I was about to reach my bliss. I cried out softly as Azriel's finger found my clit and stroked it all over. Then, with the same delicate movement as before, I climaxed. My hips bucked, my vagina tightened around Azriel and I felt myself suffocating from the pleasure I had just experienced.

When it was over, I gasped and looked at Azriel, who was watching me from under his long, jet-black lashes with his glowing eyes. My mouth quivered in a happy smile, which he returned with a sweet grin.

But as if to warn me that he had not yet reached his climax, his hardness twitched inside me. So I started moving again and watched with pleasure as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He gripped the sheet, causing his muscles to tense and the veins in his neck to bulge, which I licked gently as I leaned in.

Azriel reached his pleasure with a deep groan, his forehead tilted against mine and breathing hard. I could feel his heat flooding inside me, leaving a warm sensation.

His fingers gently trailed down my spine as both our breathing slowed and we relaxed.

He helped me off without a word, and I tensed for a moment at the sudden emptiness, but I was happy to let him lay me down beside him and tuck us both in, after he had wiped us both with his pyjama bottoms thrown at the end of the bed and kissed me.

I was happy and content, I didn't care what tomorrow held, but I had a feeling that everything was going to be much better after this.

I snuggled into Azriel's embrace and closed my eyes, his hand caressing my stomach lulled me to sleep and I was on the verge of falling asleep when I remembered something.

"Azriel," I whispered, and he hummed questioningly. "We left my nightgown in the kitchen."

"It's okay" he murmured into my hair. "At least we don't have to tell anyone we're together. Cassian will do it for us, he's such a gossip."

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acomaf #acowaf #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #sjm #inner circle #ic #a court of mist and fury #a court of thrones and roses #a court of war and ruin

[acourtofthought]

Why Gwyn would be better suited for Az:

But Azriel … Cassian tries, I try—but I think the only person who ever gets him to admit to any sort of feeling is Mor. And that’s only when she’s pestered him to the point where even his infinite patience has run out.”

This sentence tells us so much about Az's character. It takes a very persistent person to break down Az's walls. He's a master at holding things inside of him and the only type of person he will share things with is the type of person that will push him, even against his initial deflection.

People use Az's hesitation against interacting with Gwyn in the POV Bonus Chapter as some kind of mark against their ship but what they don't realize is Gwyn is EXACTLY the right kind of female for Az.

What happened when Az rejected Elain?

“this was a mistake.”

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

It doesn't really matter why Az rejected Elain because she believes he and he alone rejected her. What does Elain do when that happens? Apologizes to him. She's hurt by his rejection yet she apologizes to him.

If that were Nesta I have no doubt she'd sling something back at Az like "what do you mean mistake? Have you or have you not been staring at me the last few months?" or something like, "your loss". 😂

I love Elain, she's my favorite female of the series. But she's not brazen or aggressive or persistent. She does prefer to keep her head down and not make waves. I don't doubt we'll see her come into her own in her book (we already got hints of that in SF) but I don't think Elain will ever be pushy or demanding when she senses someone isn't comfortable. To me, she seems like the kind of person to pick up on someone's discomfort and respect that, to not push them.

Which might be great for another Male who will eventually talk when he's ready, but not someone like Az who (based on the above) will NEVER have that conversation unless someone pushes him to do so.

But Gwyn......

Sort of. “I forgot something,” he reminded her.

“At two in the morning?” Pure amusement glittered in her stare.

Right away, Gwyn challenges him. She doesn't take what he says at face value.

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger- it’s not a title that someone just made up.”

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you, though?” She pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.”

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.”

“What- with you watching?”

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced.

In the above, we have Gwyn ask Az a personal question which he deflects. Even with that deflection she circles back around and persists, asking again. Then when Az redirects because he doesn't want to demonstrate (I mean really, who ever wants to sing in front of anyone on command unless you're interested in becoming a professional singer? It's not really that strange that Az didn't want to demonstrate). Even with this new deflection though, Gwyn isn't put off. Her feelings aren't hurt and she doesn't shut down. She moves right along with the conversation and refocuses on the ribbon.

When Az finally says goodnight, he even notes Gwyn's persistent, "cheeky" personality as a positive considering he calls it "charming".

A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone.

Not only did Gwyn demonstrate that she's got no issues pushing back on the things Az tells her but he finds it to be a positive aspect of who she is.

At this point in time it doesn't matter who is interested in who. This is an SJM book and we know that even if a character wants someone at the start of a novel, they can end up with someone completely different by the end. What is important is what we know of characters outside of any romantic interactions and who they are as an individuals. Based on that and that alone gives you an idea of who would best be suited for them and I've got to say, Gwyn is exactly the type of female that Az needs. Not only because she won't back down when he puts up his walls but she also won't feel hurt by his initial reaction which will often be to shut the conversation down when it's something he wants to avoid (which isn't a healthy response when done as regularly as Az tends to do).

#antie/riel #anti e/riel #pro gwynriel #pro gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #azriel acotar

[rinseesims]

Okay so I’m now obsessed with your ultimate decade’s challenge and really wanna try it myself! Drop the mods folder, seriously I love how immersive your sims world is. Also any advice for getting started and staying motivated?

I'm sorry this response is so late, but thank you so much! All the mods I used to start out are listed on my pinned. If you see a specific mod that you like and can't find in my tags, feel free to ask, and I'll pull it up next time I'm in-game.

Also, I think my biggest piece of advice is, just do what makes YOU happy and go with the flow.

When it comes to mechanics like setting up a save, try not to stress yourself out. I honestly just started with an empty save, made the the Rolfe parents and gave them three kids to start off. I downloaded a few builds from the gallery, like a bathhouse, tavern, castle, etc. and looked for a few medieval families as well, but I didn't fill up the neighborhood because I knew I'd just be working from the ground up. You also don't HAVE to have a castle and royal family - I just really wanted to try out the Royalty mod! You can also make your own builds and families, but I generally don't have the patience, lmao! There are people who like to make sure their saves are 100000% ready to start like aesthetics, accurate builds, etc, and that's fine and amazing! I'm just a little less patient with setup and decided to take things as they came and focus on the main family gameplay over the aesthetics (because I'm lazy).

When it comes to legacy challenges, most have a formula for you to follow and it can get easy to get stuck in the routine of it. I love challenges because they give me a good to-do list and keep me invested in the game, but I really like to sort of come up with reasons as to why my sims do certain things so that I'm invested in the story as well. The Ultimate Decades Challenge differs from other challenges in that, it doesn't really have a specific formula like aspirations and goals. The death rolls make things interesting, and so do the events, but these can take several sim days and therefore, there's the risk of losing interest because you're just waiting for your sim to age up or have babies.

I think the best way to tackle this challenge is to come up with a story and figure out what your sims' motives are. This never has to be immediate. I kind of figure out the bare bones stuff and decide on things as they happen and build up the story from there (I wasn't planning on having Aemma meet Cassian, but alas, it happened, and we had a whole THING based on that dynamic). Sometimes the sims themselves do something wild and I'll take that and run with it (i.e. Aemma getting attacked by the tax guy). I didn't intend on making Cassian such a jerk, but since he was acting up right after marrying Joan, I said oh well! My goal has always been to just have my heirs and get through each year, but everything just falls into place, because if I tried to plan every step, then I'd stress myself out!

Historical accuracy is a big part of what makes this challenge so different from modern gameplay, but don't feel tethered to it. The Sims has limitations and there's only so much cc and mods can do. I didn't expect to have a supernatural storyline in mine, but when I saw an opportunity for it, I just said screw it, and that's pretty much my motto when I play UDC. I prefer to stick to the rules of the challenge as far as the doc is concerned, and I love history so I do like to listen to podcasts and videos for research, but the rest is really up to what makes gameplay convenient and fun for me. I don't feel compelled to stress over every single inaccuracy present in my game (and there are many) because then I won't really have fun with it. Some people hate that, and some people don't mind, but it's your game at the end of the day.

The SPREADSHEET is a lifesaver. I'm all over the place and need things visually laid out for me, so I actually have a lot of fun (weird) updating the spreadsheet. It's also how I keep up with this growing family, since I usually refer to what comes next visually to figure out what I'm going to focus on in the next episode. I've also updated/added stuff to that spreadsheet that works best for me, and I know other UDC simmers have done the same with their own.

Finally, give yourself a little grace. I can't speak on motivation because I go through bouts where I lack it, and I used to kick myself whenever I wasn't able to fulfill a goal. I ended up on a five month hiatus for MANY reasons, but it had nothing to do with my love for the game. If it wasn't for all the outside factors, I think I would have still been very motivated to continue my usual schedule, but even if I wasn't, that's okay. I work a stressful job that takes a lot out of me and sometimes I just don't want to record or do much of anything, but I knew I'd get back to it eventually, and I know there are people who understand that.

I hope this helps! And I hope you are having fun with this challenge if you've already started it!!

#( didn't mean for this to get so long!!!!! under read more so i don't flood the dash ) #answered

[write-for-the-moment]

How would Inner Circle (except Amren) characters react to Reader being dominant in bed.

Warnings: so many kinks, mention of sexual trauma, Amarantha, Azriel’s section has a lot of triggers, same with Cassian and Rhysand. Dom!Reader with different genitals. With Mor I only wrote for female!Reader, so be mindful. Read on your risk.

My note: I do not care if characters act is too ooc. It’s my interpretation of them, don’t care if it’s inaccurate. Don’t like it? Then don’t read it.

Text is under the cut!

Rhysand

Confused and hella conflicted. He was used to be the one to bring pleasure to his partner, to be attentive lover. Not be the one to be on the receiving side. So, don’t be shocked if he will be kinda awkward with you. Ask you questions, like “Do I have to stay still? Or…”. If you like an one-night stand, he’s not gonna be comfortable with this. But if you are his lover…

Please, don’t manhandle him. Amarantha did the same thing with him, so he’s not a fan. Gently hold him. Is not opposed of you touching his wings during the act. Don’t bring knifes/anything sharp into bed, please. Light breath play is okay for him. He uses “Red” as his safe word. Don’t bite his neck, it’s a sensitive place for him and was a favorite place for Amarantha to cut him open. Bite his shoulders/chest. Murmurs a lot your name in ecstasy. After all, really okay with everything, as long you don’t set off his PTSD. Becomes really whiny during aftercare, but will drag you back if you try to stop.

If you a guy or someone with a dick, Rhys is really into giving you blowjobs. Deep throat you and be choked a little bit with you. Just a feeling of you inside of him makes him go a little insane. Grab his hips, thrust inside him, but slowly, without hurting him. If you a gal or someone with vagina, make him beg for permission to eat you out. Softly drag your fingers in his hair, quietly command him. Be patient with him. Gently swap at his trembling hands when he unconsciously tries to speed you up. Rhys will whine, but you can easily shut him up with kisses.

Cassian

Also hella conflicted. Not in a fun way. Had a traumatic childhood in war camp with soldiers older then him. It’s ain’t gonna be happening if your not his lover.

Doesn’t like the idea of being under you, so you have to work with him being un top and still control the situation. Hates you manhandling him in any way, so be soft with him. Has a praise kink. Let him know that he’s doing good, while he rides you in any way. Don’t touch his wings, the soldiers did that to immobilize him. He likes when you leave marks on him: lipstick smudges, bite marks, etc. Smell kink: turns on by the smell of your sweat, after the training. Maybe after a while, he would open up to the idea of being under you, but that’s gonna take time and patience. He uses as a safe word a soldier’s name that he killed. Doesn’t like being vulnerable, but don’t want to be alone after sex. Sometimes cries during aftercare and you have hold him in your arms.

If you have a dick, then that’s gonna be tricky. You need to Cassian to relax, like a lot! Kiss him, use relaxing oil to massage him, work with him physically and mentally. He’s gonna be hella uptight, so yeah, use everything you can to help him not be rigged and afraid. Chokes up a little when you inside him in any way, blinks away tears, feeling frustration from his fear and overwhelming sensation of you inside of him. Let him ride you. Curses a lot, when you speed up thrusts and tries to muffle his voice, hiding face in your shoulder/chest. If you strong enough to pick him up in the middle of the sex while also gently hold him, he’s gonna cum really quickly.

If you have a vagina, it will be kinda easy? Control his thrusts, while praise him for his obedience. Joke with him, let him laugh with you to loose him up a little. If you have a big chest, well, suffocate him a little with them. Force him watch you masturbate, while command him not to touch you. Tickle his wings, but don’t use your nails.

Azriel

…yes. Really into that. Doesn’t really care if it’s one-night stand or what. Although, you need to be careful. Az has some extreme masochistic tendencies from his self-loathing. Thinks that it’s completely normal for him to scream in agony during sex. Doesn’t really understands him using safe word, but complies if you press him. Overstimulation kink. Manhandle him, choke him, be fast and forceful with him, he’s not gonna complain. Do not bring wax play/fire play, he will badly dissociate and have after this a panic attack. He likes the idea of you torturing his wings. Knife play also cool for him. Degradation kink? Just be careful in this part, the guy already has some fucked up mentality about himself. His father’s name is his safe word or word “Fire”. Would try to run away from aftercare, so you have to begin this immediately after sex. The act of taking care of him after intense sex is making Az feel raw inside. It feels wrong for him to feel this good and loved after that. You can trap him with hot bath or gently commending him around.

If you have a dick or vagina or whatever the hell kinda genitals you have, fucking hell… Az is obedient. Like really submissive. Every order you give him, he’s gonna do that to the extreme measure. If you order him to not to breath, then he will likely die from suffocation. He likes rough treatment. Painful thrusts, slaps, etc. You can be cruel to him and he’s gonna be satisfied with that. But if you try to be gentle to his body and mind? Be caring lover? He’s gonna crumble. Slowly, blinking in confusion, as you massage him, readying him from you to go inside him, as you kiss him with passion, as you whisper words of encouragements to him… He will definitely try to bait you hurt him, in the attempt to not to lose his mind. But if you continue being gentle to him even after those attempts, he’s gonna be so shocked.

Morrigan (with female! Reader only)

Is okay with that, but not used to this role, really. Doesn’t really care also if you want to a sex for one night or if you her lover.

Eat her out. And, if you want, let her eat you out. Impact play? Lay her on your knees and play with her ass and pussy. Slap them with hands, whips and toys. Control her orgasms. Is not into breath play and any extreme kinks. Doesn’t mind light manhandling. Hm, she’s really likes sex, while being fully clothed. Make her climax while she is in her beautiful red dress, when you are in some party. Smudge her lipstick, cover her body with your perfume, make her dishevel before you go to other guests. Really loves the aftercare. Make her a hot meal, green tea, take a bubble bath with her, wash her hair while she sleepy blinks at you with satisfied grin.

Feyre Archeron

Yes, if you her lover. The one-night stand? No.

Feyre is really fucking tired individual. You will be, if you actively participated in two wars (or was the cause of one of them) after being freshly resurrected from the death and turned into the fae. So, she would gladly give away control to you, especially if you two before the relationship were close friends. Feyre need to trust you 100%, like no shady deals with her, no alcohol involved, no fucking magic drugs.

Feyre is really agile, powerful fae, but with her lover she becomes just… her. The girl, who she stiffened during wars, because everybody needed a damn a saviour, a Curse Breaker. So, pumper her up. She loves romantic gestures, like a night dates with candles and wine, stargazing together, painting and drawing together, training together… Then she would gladly jump on you with your permission beforehand.

Consent in everything to her. Please don’t overstep anything without her knowing. Ask if she comfortable to do a new idea in the bedroom. Doesn’t have a safe word, but a safe signal — in panic she becomes verbally mute, so she signals you to stop by putting her hands in X-pose.

Hates extreme shit. No degradation, she had enough of that from Nesta and nasty fae. No pain, please. Her body is immortal, but she won’t let herself feel in the safest environment pain from someone that she deeply trusts.

Also, don’t fucking bite her.

Likes overstimulation, light manhandling, make out sessions that leave her breathless. Also loves sex that started with relaxing massage. Anal sex also cool for her. Loves leaving marks on your back/receive them from you too. Sometimes her magic goes wild during the fun time, so don’t be shocked if all of the sudden you both surrounded with water butterflies or Feyre is glowing like a sunbeam.

The aftercare with her is simple. Hug her from behind and hold her though the night. Her body becomes really sensitive and she doesn’t want to move, and will loudly whine if you try to leave her. In the morning get for her one thing and only — dark coffee with honey and lavender.



#acotar #feyre #rhysand #cassian #azriel #morrigan #acomaf #acowar #headcanons #tw kink #tw trauma

[gurrillero-aa]

“ It is a trap, of course. ” @dtperez

Cassian  clicks  his  tongue  in  response  and  he  can  feel  the  sour  taste  of  coffee  in  his  mouth.  Four  cups  of  coffee  to  be  exact,  all  that  has  been  fuelling  for  the  past.  .  .    what?  24  hours  give  or  take.  They  have  been  drilling  on  the  same  crumbs  of  intel  for  days,  then  suddenly,  as  if  godsent,  a  breakthrough:  one  unnamed  informant  claiming  to  have  knowledge  on  what  Cassian's  dead  contact  was  mixed  in.  Of  course  it  is  fucking  a  trap.  Intelligence  doesn’t  appear  out  of  thin  air,  he  has  worked  the  streets  for  years  now,  it  mostly  takes  draining  days,  sometimes  weeks  or  months  of  patience  and  coaxing  to  get  someone  to  come  forward  with  a  sliver  of  information,  much  less  a  goldmine  like  this  one  promises.

With  a  sigh  he  sinks  in  the  car  seat,  eyes  scanning  the  road  both  ahead  and  behind  them  through  the  rearview  mirror.  Not  precisely  the  most  comfortable  setting  for  a  meeting,  but  it's  what  they  have  at  the  moment,  it's  not  like  he  can  waltz  into  the  police  station,  it’s  not  like  he  would  either,  not  willingly  at  least.    

“  What  else  is  there?  ”  Nothing.  Even  if  it's  a  trap,  part  of  him  cannot  help  thinking  it  would  be  worth  it.  If  someone  tries  to  kill  them,  then  they  would  have  to  crawl  out  of  the  shadows  to  do  it.    And  he  really,  really  wants  to  see  their  face,  whoever  they  are.  He  throws  a  side-glance  at  Benjamín’s  profile,  eyes  slightly  crinkling  in  amusement.  “  If  you’re  scared  I  can  go  on  my  own,  it's  fine.  ”

#cassian is the 8yo saying i bet you can't stick your finger in the light outlet #his very sharp skills of spy manipulation #dtperez #int : / / answered. #au : / / contemporary.

[lyzriel]

“At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted.”

my villain origin story🔪🔪🔪

#cassian really tries my patience #nessian #nesta archeron #nesta deserves better

[vidalinav]

Do you have anymore Lucien x Nesta snippets 👀

Sure! I was in a LucNes Monster mood for some reason! This was technically a snippet I already posted but then just made into a whole little fic portion. It was really fun to write lmao.

For context for those who don't know, this is a fic where Nesta actually crosses the wall to help Feyre and meets Lucien (which is her mate in this fic, so no Cassian). This is the start of the fic where they meet.

~

Nesta is fragile like any human is. Her attitude, however, is not and every day the tiny female tries his patience more. For someone so weak looking, she should put up less of a fight.

Lucien finds that this little human likes to fight and probably thirsts for fae blood. He might have called her a witch if she didn’t have sticks in her hair and mud all over her face. Her pulse runs rampant even after all these days, and he wonders if she can tell how easily he can scent her fear. It must not bother her much, though, since she still gives him that glare demanding to know where her sister is.

“Are you here again, little human? I thought you might have run off in shame when I beat you last.”

The female, who he’s learned only yesterday is named Nesta, huffs in irritation. “Winning at marbles is hardly something to gloat about.”

“And yet you lost so easily...”

Frankly, her sneer is starting to amuse him. The female raises her chin, glaring at him like she’ll curse him where she stands.

“I want to see my sister,” she demands.

Lucien bows his head, ever the gentleman to a sweet, simpering lady asking for a request. “And you will, should you correctly answer my three riddles first.”

Lucien isn’t sure what stories are popular with the humans now, but he remembers all sorts of fantastical things he’s heard in passing. The stories and dramatics are not as hard as hiding his laughter, when she takes every word with a seriousness that have her brows furrowing in the middle.

Yesterday, he plays marbles with her. Some game he makes up on the spot. Lucien has to keep changing the rules though, since she’s too good at games. She nearly wins six times...

Today, he’s come prepared with riddles. He finds ones with some of the most nonsensical answers that make him snicker when he reads them over breakfast. She’ll never be able to guess these.

Lucien rattles off the first one.

“A chicken,” Nesta answers.

He grumbles under his breath at the quickness of her answer, his nose twitching in irritation.

“Wrong,” Lucien lies loudly, “the correct answer is a golden Orpington that caws at dawn. Next question.”

He refrains from re-checking his note cards and rattles off the next one. Infinitely harder than the last.

Games are the only trick that seem to work on the wily female, since telling her tales about how the forest will eat her alive only amounts to her waving a dismissive hand, after she’s sure he does not have a taste for human flesh. That was his fault in retrospect for suggesting the horror a day too late.

She rolls her eyes at him that day when he tells her that there are monsters here. Creepy, crawling things that yearn to feast on the flesh of young girls. She raises a brow and asks in a voice as bored as if she were lounging on the Summer Court shores. Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“A rose,” Nesta answers.

“Wrong,” Lucien lies again and the pretty female’s face turns a bright shade of red at his smile. “Next question.”

Nesta doesn’t let him continue with the next one, as she throws up her hands. “Then what is the correct answer?”

Lucien frowns at the confident way she speaks to him. He thinks of the day she first appears when she's nearly shaking out of her boots. That would have been the perfect day to play on her fear of all things fae. It’s his own fault he hesitates. 

“A flower,” Lucien dismisses, plainly.

“A rose is a flower.”

“But not the correct answer. Next question.”

Lucien rattles off his next riddle. Her eyes are more silver when she’s angry, but they're still the same color of her youngest sister. That’s why he hesitates, if he’s honest. She looks so much like Feyre... and then she doesn’t.

She’s more regal in a way. More taciturn. Infinitely more insane, if she willingly crosses the wall--however she crosses that wall. He knows only a handful of fae that can find a way through the cracks. She’s dressed in the same, gods-awful dresses that all court ladies wear, that conceal much of her form... except for those breasts that peak out sweetly and which he has an even clearer view when she gets all huffy and irritated. That is something that Nesta boasts where Feyre doesn’t.

Still as pretty as she is, Lucien can’t help but wonder if she’s as clever as she is dumb. He’s heard of Feyre’s sisters. Two girls raised as ladies who never learn get over the grief of their poverty and who somehow become... awful in their grief.

It reminds him of his own siblings, and Lucien concludes that Feyre and him are probably better off leaving them behind.

Yet, here one is. Looking for her youngest sister.

“A fish,” Nesta answers.

Lucien hums a sweet sound of displeasure. “I’m afraid today, I can’t offer you safe passage through the forest when you--”

But before Lucien can finish his sentence, Nesta screeches out a battle cry. His first distraction. She runs towards him and he’s so shocked he can barely catch himself as they tumble to the ground. Soon, the female’s sitting on his torso, and Lucien comes face to face with an arrow.

“I have a riddle, too,” she sings, “If you answer correctly, I might not stab you in the eye.”

Lucien snorts. She’s a tiny thing and she thinks she can kill him? He has admire the audacity. Lucien merely grabs the arrow in her hands and it’s easy to take it from her when she’s a simple human through and through.

He flips them both and then Nesta is staring up at him from her position on the ground. See, he tells her with a look. Easily defeated.

She has sticks in her hair, her dress is stained with dirt, and she blinks at him with more anger than surprise. Her expression is comical so Lucien laughs. “Any good warrior would know to stab first and ask questions later.”

Nesta doesn't answer that response, so Lucien uses her bold silence to examine the weapon in his hands. The arrow is made of ash and his stomach sinks at the thought of this weapon coming so close to his face.

Clever, clever human.

Perhaps, he should be terrified of her.

He looks down to eye his opponent, assessing whether she’s worthy enough to be one, but a mere look at her face has him scowling.

She’s crying.

Or at least a tear falls out of the corner of her eyes, and she looks as scared as that first day. She almost stabbed him, and she’s scared?

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Lucien scoffs, “contrary to your belief, I was serious when I said I don’t have a taste for human girls. No matter how deadly they seem. So, no, this was not me playing with my dinner.”

Yet, still, Nesta squirms underneath him. He can scent her fear like rain on the wind. It’s a different sort of fear than the one before. There’s a different sort of look in her eyes too.

Lucien might want to scare her but he isn’t so indecent to do anything that might scar her for life... well not in the way she's thinking of with that expression.

“Go home,” Lucien pleads and he hates how desperate his voice sounds.

She’s too late and there’s nothing in this world that will change her sister’s fate now. But how many times does he wish his siblings had come for him? Had kept him safe? Had tried even a little?

Lucien tumbles off of her, listing every way she’ll leave this forest and never return. She won’t come back in the morning, like she usually does. She won’t try to sneak back in midafternoon when she thinks he’s left. 

He shrugs off the thought of his brothers--his family who like the taste of blood and violence. She's lucky to have never met any of them. 

“You will never be able to get past me in games, riddles or rhyme. You barely know how to fight and you’re too puny to put up much of one. Go home and I'll--”

But Nesta reaches behind her again.

Lucien only catches a glimpse of the other arrow before she’s stabbing it into his thigh.

“Fuck,” Lucien yowls, grabbing at his leg. “You witch!”

Nesta laughs, her voice nearly breathless, “Any good warrior would know to bring two weapons and they certainly wouldn’t underestimate an opponent who came armed.”

She looks proud as she turns away from him, running to the woods he’s kept her from all these days. Nesta doesn’t bother looking back at what she’s caused.

Lucien holds his leg, breathing deeply, cursing that human soundly.

Vaguely, between the pain, Lucien can only think one thought, though. At least, it wasn’t his eye...

~

@arinbelle (if you want to read this) 

#nescien #nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #vidalinav writes fics #LucNesMonster #I have no idea what to call this fic

[anyoneseenadam]

Hello, can I please request NSFW Azriel x reader drabble? They are mates and Azriel is bored during some unimportant political meeting so he sends dirty imagines and ideas to her through their bond along with his shadows which make her feel like if he is really touching her... (English is not my first language so I hope this makes sense)

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, descriptions of sex, men (sksksk couldn’t help myself) blood kink cause it’s az and Rhys being a lil shit :)

a/n: thank you for requesting! i hope you like this <3 I tried not to get carried away and turn it into a 25 part series (this time)

(also i didn’t know if people wanted to be tagged in this that wanted to be tagged in home so i didn’t but if u do just lemme know :))

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

You were sat at a round table, staring at the grooves in the wood as the Illyrian generals around you droned on about treaties and training. Rhysand had begun forcing you to come along to the meetings held twice a decade where the Illyrian generals from each camp would gather and share ideas, or mainly try bully other camps into dropping new protocols such as training females. Your head whipped up when your name was called, and you mentally thanked yourself for remaining at least partially present, beginning to talk through your plan to modernise areas of the camps, and actively ignoring the scoffs from men who didn’t believe you should be talking.

You felt a tug on your mating bond with Azriel and let your eyes momentarily catch his. He looked pristine as always, not a hair out of place and back perfectly straight, hands always within reach of a weapon. Your bond had clicked just over a year ago when an old friend Mor had sought you out, needing your knowledge on the ancient creatures you had been studying. You had asked for all the information they had and begun filling them in on your knowledge of a certain species big cat that you believed had been terrorising the Illyrian camps when Azriel and Cassian had stood, arming up to take on the beast when you had widely protested. “You can’t kill them please! They’re so rare and already going endangered, I’ll come with you I have been studying them I believe I could calm them down!” They had all be wary of your plea but allowed you to come along, following closely in case you were wrong. But as you had told them you were never wrong and soon found the cub the cats had been looking for, and returning it to the animals, smiling as they scampered off, Cassian laughing in disbelief besides you and Azriel on your other side, gazing at you in awe. You were about to offer an “I told you so.” as you turned to face the males when the air was stolen from your lungs, staring at Azriel as the bond clicked into place.

As you continued talking you sent a tug back, moving to look directly at your high lady as protests called out at your so-called radical ideas, and she quickly jumped to defend you as they outlined more and more plans that you had no interest in. You shivered as you felt two of Azriel’s shadows rest against your arms, one moving up to curl around your neck like a sleeping cat and looked at him again as he spoke through your bond.

I’m bored.

That surprises me. You replied, fighting a grin at his pout.

You want to know what I’m thinking about? He asked, face completely calm, asides from his eyes, which were sparkling with mischief and something darker.

Do enlighten me.

Bending you over this table and fucking you until all these men know who you belong to. You choked on your saliva at his crude statement and felt your cheeks heat up. But you’d love that wouldn’t you sweetheart, you’d be begging for me the whole time not even caring who saw you, so cock hungry. You’d let me stake my claim, let me make them watch as I take you apart. They’d never get to flirt with you again.

You glared at him, but it was half hearted as you felt a shadow trail up your leg in a shape all too familiar to that of your lovers’ hands. Azriel I need…

Already begging me darling, we still have an hour left. You glanced at the clock and almost cried out when you saw he was telling the truth, and then again when his shadows trailed over the damp patch that was forming on your panties. Then he was sending you images. They started innocently enough, the dress shirt that was just slightly too tight on him, his hands unsheathing truth-teller, but they soon changed. The image of him fucking you from behind in front of the full-length mirror in your room, blood trailing from the bite in your neck that he had given you animalistically, he had caught your gaze in the mirror and held it as he leaned down, licking your wound clean, his hips meeting yours roughly, the only sounds filling them room was the harmony of your moans and the lewd sounds of your copious wetness.

You were pulled back to reality when Feyre said your name and you clenched your hands in your lap as Azriel’s shadows seemed to reach under your flimsy panties. The ones you had pulled on without thought as you and Azriel raced to not be late for this exact meeting as a result of your morning filled with lazy kisses and slow thrusts. You shot Feyre a pained look as she repeated the question, Rhys stifling a laugh beside her, she smacked his leg as you blushed trying to answer her as best you could.  You were cut off halfway through but couldn’t feel any resentment as the shadows caressed you.

Good girl, Azriel smiled, if you remain quiet I’ll maybe reward you when we get home.

Azriel I don’t think I can…

You can and you will. Was all he said before sending you more images, the sight of yourself spread beneath him on your bed, glowing from an intense orgasm just to face another. The memory of the time Azriel had taken you so hard and for so long you had passed out, and woken up to an extremely stressed mate, although he left out that part. Or memories of when you had hidden beneath his desk, struggling to fit his cock in your mouth and slurping around him as you tried to bring him to completion, one hand tangled in your head, thrusting in and out of your wet cavern, the other gripping his desk so tight, his knuckles were white as snow. By the time he hour was up you had soaked through your panties and were resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you tried to hold in sounds, a task that became nearly impossible as he continued to send you dirty images and words, his shadows exploring your deepest parts. When the meeting concluded Azriel was at you side in an instant, an arm coming securely around your waist as his mouth dipped to whisper in your ear.

“Good girl,” was all he said, leading you through the room, beelining for the door, only to be interrupted by Rhys, who had a shit eating grin on his face and Feyre who almost, almost looked apologetic.

“You guys coming to ours? It’s almost time for dinner and I’m sure everyone will be there.” Rhysand asked, grinning when you glared at him. He knew exactly what Azriel had been doing, having done it himself to Feyre on many occasions.

“I’m afraid the missus isn’t feeling well,” Azriel replied smoothly, and you send him a tug of appreciation.

“That’s too bad, well have a fun night.” Rhysand replied with a wink, making Az’s hand tighten on your hip as he winnowed the two of you to your home. When you were inside your room he pushed you against the wall, smiling wickedly as he ran his nose along the soft column of your throat, his lips trailing kisses up to your ear as he whispered, “I don’t think I’m done playing with you yet.”

You whined at his words as he stripped you slowly, before pressing you down on the bed a hand firmly pressed against your throat. “You’ve lasted so long, but I want to see how long that patience will last,” he grinned, and you felt a wave of anxiety pass over you, “No cumming until I say so.”

You were in for a long night.

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf #rhysand

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)

Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.

Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)

Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!

I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3

Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)

Chapter 39 Cassian POV

Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.

He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.

It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.

And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.

But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—

Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.

Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.

From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.

And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.

Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.

Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.

“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”

Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.

Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”

Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”

Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”

Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.

His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”

This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.

Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”

“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”

Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”

“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.

“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.

Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.

As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”

Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.

Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.

But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.

It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.

“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.

You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.

Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”

If she doesn’t change her mind.

“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”

Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”

“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”

Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”

Cassian was more than aware of that.

He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”

But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”

It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”

“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”

That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.

So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”

Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”

“I’m not the patient sort.”

“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.

Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.

A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.

***

In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.

“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”

“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”

Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”

Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.

Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”

The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”

She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”

They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.

Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.

“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”

Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”

“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”

Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.

Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.

“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.

Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”

The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”

“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”

It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”

But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”

“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”

It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.

Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.

Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.

When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.

A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.

Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.

Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.

You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.

The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.

The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.

Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.

His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.

When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.

The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.

As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—

They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.

A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.

The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.

Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.

When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.

Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.

If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.

When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.

Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.

Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.

Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.

Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.

As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.

Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.

Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.

Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.

For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.

Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.

Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.

That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.

Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.

Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.

As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.

A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.

Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.

And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.

His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…

And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.

A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.

Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”

Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.

When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.

That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”

The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.

The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.

Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.

“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”

The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.

His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.

At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.

The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.

Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.

“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.

It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.

In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.

Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.

When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.

Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.

But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.

Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”

A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.

And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.

Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.

The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.

Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.

There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.

His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.

“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.

The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.

Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.

Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.

And then a knock rapped at the front door.

“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.

Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.

But then it righted itself.

Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.

He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”

“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.

He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.

Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.

“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”

I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.

Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”

Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.

Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.

He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.

Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.

She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.

It gave him the courage to do the right thing.

He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.

“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.

“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”

Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.

When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.

“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”

Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.

Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.

The sudden distance between them felt like miles.

Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.

A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.

Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him.  “I thought you were going to answer the door?”

A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.

Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.

Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”

“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”

A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.

And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.

With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.

Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.

*** It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.

“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.

And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.

Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.

To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.

Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.

And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.

Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.

“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.

Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.

Go home, Cassian.

Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”

“And this is your way of torturing me?”

An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”

Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.

The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.

Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”

Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—

Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…

Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.

When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.

Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.

The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.

Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.

When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.

She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.

He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.

But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.

The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—

Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.

As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—

“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”

The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.

She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”

The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.

But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”

His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.

A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.

“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.

He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”

The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.

In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.

It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.

Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.

When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.

Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.

And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.

This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.

Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.

“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.

The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress

Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.

When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.

The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…

The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.

A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.

Fuck, Nesta.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.

A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.

Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.

Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”

Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.

“Yes.”

The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…

The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.

Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.

When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”

Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.

The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.

This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.

Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.

And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.

Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.

When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.

Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—

Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast  the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.

The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.

Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.

Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.

That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.

Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.

Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”

The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.

Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.

Nesta panted his name.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.

In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”

It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.

That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.

Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.

Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.

“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.

When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.

“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.

He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.

It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?

“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.

Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”

As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.

“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.

Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…

A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.

It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.

Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.

The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.

Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.

Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.

Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.

So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”

Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.

She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”

Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.

Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.

Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.

Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.

“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.

When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.

Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.

“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”

Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.

A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.

Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.

The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.

A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.

“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”

“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Still breathing, Nes.”

Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.

And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.

His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.

Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—

The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.

Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.

Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.

Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.

“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.

Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.

Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low,  “Is this all for me?”

Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.

Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”

All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.

Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.

An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”

Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”

The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”

But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.

Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.

He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.

Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.

Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.

They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.

When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.

And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.

So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.

Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.

“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”

Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.

Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”

She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.

“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.

“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”

Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.

Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.

“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”

As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.

The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.

And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”

No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.

Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.

“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”

It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.

And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …

It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.

“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”

Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.

Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.

Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.

Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.

The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.

“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”

Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.

“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.

That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.

He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.

Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.

Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.

He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.

And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.  

“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.

Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.

When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”

It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.

“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”

A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”

It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.

“And what about you?”

The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”

Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.

That was answer enough.

In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.

Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.

“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.

The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.

Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.

“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.

Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”

“Both.”

That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.

Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”

And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.

Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.

Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.

Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.

Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.

Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”

Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.

He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.

And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?

“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.

“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.

“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.

When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.

Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”

Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.

“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.

He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.

Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.

“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.

Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.

“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”

For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.

Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.

Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”

From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.

She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.

Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”

There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—

Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.

Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.

He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…

In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”

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