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imaginesmai · 6 months

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Taken - Azriel

This is long and this is messy. I don't know where this came out, but shoutout to @marscardigan because she requested this fic so long ago I almost forgot. Enjoy the ANGST.

This is a fic inside the baker!reader universe from Right around the corner. You don't need to read the fics to understand but it will help you!

Plot: you're taken in the worst possible situation, and Azriel fights against time to find you.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, blood, wounds, death (not main characters).

You should have closed the bakery a while ago, you knew. You should have also taken a few days off and relay on Elain a bit more. As a matter of a fact, there was a long list of things you should have done better, most of them converged in the last month, but you were busy. And stubborn.

A very busy, very stubborn, very pregnant baker who was closing the bakery way too late.

You had been lucky that morning when you had won the first argument. It was Nyx birthday in a few days, and the boy wanted a special cake with the shadows of his uncle. And you had been working on it even if you were supposed to be on house arrest, only because Azriel was with you at all given time.

But that day, your mate had a meeting and he couldn’t stay with you, so originally you weren’t supposed to go. Originally. Since Azriel loved Nyx as much as you, he had agreed to leave you at the bakery on your own and not chain you to bed.

You hoped that agreement was still valid if he discovered how late it was.

“Alright” you muttered, looking down at the cake with your hands resting on your swollen belly. “I think it’s coming just fine, huh? One more floor and it’ll be the event of the year”

The cake had a base covered in black chocolate, small curls that simulated shadows coming from the bottom. You had already finished the worst part, and had the rest of the shadows ready in the oven for tomorrow.

While you admired your work, you rubbed your hands absentmindedly across your stomach. At the beginning on the third trimester, you looked ready to give birth. Maybe it was because of the wings, or maybe the baby already took upon his father’s size.

“I hope your tastes are less expensive than your cousin’s” you said, smiling when your rubs were answered by a strong kick. “That didn’t feel like agreeing”

The shadows that were already yours pushed you once more to the door, like they had been doing for the past hours, since the sun came down. Raising your hands up in defeat, you took the first step back home.

“Alright, I’m going. I’m going” you chuckled as they pressed more urgently now that you started walking. “I’m fine, it’s late but I’m finishing. Promise to put my feet up when I get home”

Talking with the shadows and with your baby was as common as talking to yourself. Just as Azriel, you seemed to understand what they wanted to tell you. You endured their constant tugging and pulling as you closed off the bakery.

Only when the door was locked and you turned to take the few steps to your house, you realized just how late it was.

“Oh” you blinked, looking around you. The babe sent another, softer kick.

The street was empty, the night silent. Not even the few cats that purred in the shadows happened to be there that night. Even though it was a summer night, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you put the key on your pocket and took the already usual wobbly steps.

At any given moment, you liked to think, you would have been more aware. Azriel had trained you for it, his family had too in the last years. But still, that one time you would have used any of that training, you couldn’t.

Your hand only made it to the knock of your door when the faebane arrow went clean through your shoulder. A clothe covered your mouth as the few shadows tried to blind whoever was behind you, not given you any time to scream or call for help. Gripping onto the last thread of consciousness, you tugged on the bond.

The meeting was taking far longer than what he would have liked.

It was supposed to be easy, to talk the problems out and to let Keir go with a warning. That was why Rhysand had asked him to come along, so that his shadows would snoop around while the male was busy. Because, if the high lord had known it would take so long, he wouldn’t have dared to separate Azriel from you.

Since you both solved your last argument, things had gotten better. He was ready to give himself to you, to become a better man for you and to be what you needed. And seven months ago, it had kept going – you were pregnant, with his child.

And if Azriel thought you were beautiful before, watching your body swell with a new life, watching you become a mother, made you perfect. The thought of you and your future child was what kept him put during hours.

He had known you were at the bakery alone; had known he was supposed to be home before dinner. But he waited, because he didn’t have a reason not to. Azriel felt a tug at the bond during the meeting, and sent a reassuring pull back.

He waited, until Keir left and he put a foot out of Hewn City. Cassian was waiting for them with his arms crossed, his back to their brothers.

“Missed us much?” Rhysand teased, letting himself smile for the first time in that day. “Is staying with – what’s wrong?”

Cassian turned around and his face fell. Azriel recognized earlier than Rhysand the fall of his shoulders, the slump on his wings. There was tension and pain written all over his face. His spymaster-mind ran over a few possibilities before his brother locked eyes with him – an attack to Velaris, an update about Beron’s plans, the revolution in the human’s lands. He even had time to worry about Nyx.

Then, he locked eyes and his breath got stuck in his throat.

“What?” he blurted out. The look on Cassian’s face threatened to swallow him down a spiral of panic. “Cassian, what?”

“What happened?” Rhysand asked, although he was already reading the general’s mind.

“Y/N’s been taken. Don’t know where yet or why” the general spoke, without dropping Azriel’s burning gaze. “I’ve got guards up in the sky and through Velaris”

“Taken?” the high lord asked again, frowning.

“Your shadows came into the wind house, somehow… Nyx knows. He told us what they saw. We are looking for her already, don’t panic. We will find her”

Rhysand could see through Cassian’s eyes, the burst of Azriel’s shadows and a crying Nyx in his room, waking him up. His son telling him about the shadows warning him in his sleep, asking the general if it was true and why they said that.

He looked at Azriel, who looked as pale as the bone wall behind them. The Illyrian tried to come up with something to say, just as he had done in so many similar occasions. It was him who remained calm when Rhysand went under the mountain, when Nyx’s life was threatened just after he was born. Azriel made plans, he was a skilled warrior.

Still, he could only tug on the bond and horrify at the emptiness that came back.

“I can’t feel her” he confessed, finally looking away from Cassian to Rhysand. “Why? Why can’t I feel her?”

“She isn’t dead” his brother answered immediately. “You would know. It’s the faebane, you won’t feel her if they have used it. Cassian, what do we know?”

“No smells, no traces. Bakery was empty and her apartment too. They must have taken her in between”

“Who would fucking take a pregnant woman?” Azriel blurted out. “She’s pregnant. She’s – fuck! In between? It’s – it’s two steps! There’s no space in between!”

“What else?” Rhysand ignored him.

“They sent a note”

Azriel’s panic died down for a moment when Cassian handed his high lord the note. He quickly snatched it away. Barely able to keep in place, he turned his back to his brothers and shamelessly used his shadows in his favor.

He heard his name being called, felt Rhysand demanding to be let in. His own power wasn’t a match for the high lord’s, but it would keep them out enough to read the note.

One of the first rules he applied when it came to kidnappings was to keep the family and loved ones out of it. They didn’t think clearly, and without wanting to, could endanger the victim. But it wasn’t just a person, it was you.

So, ignoring his own rules, he opened the note.

If you want Y/N and the baby safe, the spymaster will present himself at the given coordinates before sunrise. Impaled with faebane and with no hidden tricks. Once we deem so, we will deliver the girl in Windhaven.

Each hour past sunrise will be paid. Don’t be late.

We do not appreciate being hunted.

There were words, that made sentences, and that should have made sense. But all Azriel could see was your name, the word baby, and feel his chest tighten. That wasn’t a clue, there was no way they would find them before sunrise and bring you home to him. Right then, he understood why they kept family out of those types of matters.

The note was snatched out of his hands by a very angry looking Rhysand, with a pained Cassian behind his back.

As Rhysand read the note, Azriel let himself have a moment of sorrow. He turned every emotion upside down, explored them instead of refusing to acknowledge. For years, he had feared the possibility of you being taken from his side. There would be time to panic once he had you in his arms, to worry about the baby once he could touch your belly once more and check your pulse and breathing.

Azriel tugged on the bond once more, feeling the crushing emptiness back. There was nothing, and he was threatened to become nothing too. Instead, he tugged on the faint, thin bond that was still developing. It was barely a thread of your own, fragile but promising.

The bond with your child had been the cause of your discovery. One day it was only the two of you, and then Azriel felt something else. He tugged on that and, even if he didn’t receive anything back, he knew.

“They’re in the mountains” he looked at his brothers. “Can’t say where, but far from Windhaven”

“How are you sure?” Cassian asked, but Rhysand smiled knowingly. Sadly.

“The other bond. You shouldn’t pull too hard, Az. It’s – “

“I won’t. But I’m not letting one second go if I can find her” Azriel cut him off with a hard look. “You’re wasting your time in Velaris”

“Don’t you dare, Az”

Cassian words were lost in the wind as he winnowed away, Rhysand barely touching his forearm. He knew he shouldn’t tug on the bond so soon in his child’s life, that it would only put him at risk. Risk an early labor, risk your discomfort. But if it meant it would take him back to you, he would rip the word apart piece by piece.

You didn’t know how, but after all those years, all those good memories built that replaced the bad ones, you just knew. You recognized the painted walls, the stains on the ground, and the smell from the fire.

Nothing had changed over the centuries that had passed by, you realized. The tavern was just as terrible as it had been, just as dirty. They were just as tall and broad as they were, although not that many. And you were that scared girl that they ripped their wings from, tucked into a corner.

While they stared at you, you only hug your belly and tried to keep your tears at bay.

You had woken up a while ago, and they had only whispered between them. From what you had gathered, they didn’t expect the pregnancy, and were worried about it. The one who had clipped your wings so long ago wasn’t around, thanks to Azriel, but you recognized their faces.

You also recognized the blood stains on the ground and walls, courtesy of your mate and probably the reason you were in that position.

“It has closed” one of them broke the silence, frowning. “Why has it closed so soon? We just took it out”

“Must be the babe” the taller one, whom you remembered to be called Sandor, shrugged.

“It’s the third time – “

“All right, girl, you already know to stay put” Sandor sighed, as if it was a simple routine.

You refused to talk, refused to anger them just like you had done in the past and pay for your actions. It wasn’t just your life in the game, and right then, your priority wasn’t it.

With only the moon light through the window, Sandor knelt in front of you and grabbed a clean arrow. Two bloodied ones were discarded on the ground, ripped out of your shoulder and arm. Apparently, they didn’t want to risk you healing around the arrow, in case it would somehow affect the baby.

That didn’t mean they weren’t willing to stick another one once the wound was closed and there was a chance of Azriel feeling you through the bond.

For a moment, Sandor hesitated. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable about your belly or the situation. Hurting you to get Azriel might had been fine, but hurting pregnant-you was debatable.

“Just do it, man. You might already ring the bells and light a bonfire” the nameless one snapped.

“Do you want to do it?” Sandor turned around on his knees. “Clyde, I’ve got a pregnant woman at home. And she looks ready to burst”

“It’s not your woman, it’s his. Do you want to stare at what used to be Burton?” Clyde pointed to the darkest stain. “Tell him if he wants to consider, take his time”

As they argued, you finally felt it. A tug, a breeze, nothing more than a feeling, but it was there. It was Azriel pulling at the bond like his life depended on it, with so much strength you were sure he was using power that wasn’t only his.

You blinked surprised at the change. It had taken you all your willpower not to panic when you woke up feeling nothing on the other side, and they hadn’t let enough time for your body to recover from the fae bane to feel it again. But as they argued, you silently cherished the discovery. Maybe it was the baby’s strength, maybe it was the cauldron leaning in your favor or any other force, but not only you were healing fast – you were getting the bond back.

Still looking at them, you tugged back. The bond went silent for a second, and you pressed against it again. You were hit with an overwhelming amount of worry, of fear but also love and relief. Azriel’s emotions became yours, and you were so glad it was about to be over that you unfocused your gaze.

It was enough for Clyde to notice your far-away look, and realize what was happening.

“Fuck, she’s warning him!” Clyde rushed forwards, taking the arrow out of Sandor’s grip. “You think you’re so smart?”

You blinked your fogginess away when he walked towards you, coming back to your senses. There wasn’t enough amount of love or assurance Azriel could send you that would stop you from panicking.

“No, wait” you pushed yourself farther into the corner as he moved closer, screaming at Azriel as loud as you could through the watered bond. “I didn’t! I didn’t!”

“You knocked-up, useless, brat” he gripped your ankle and pushed you towards him, your back and head hitting the ground. “Let’s see how you tell him this”

The momentary pain of hitting the ground wasn’t enough to drown the anguish of having a new arrow dug into your leg, just above your knee. The ceiling became blurry and his voices tuned out as you screamed in pain, your bounded hands trying aimlessly to break free.

You couldn’t remember the pain from the first one, seeing you were knocked out, and Sandor had managed to make the other one hurt less. But Clyde pushed his body weight onto your leg, the bottom of the arrow piercing the ground. You looked up and watched horrified as blood started leaking out through your pants and under your leg.

Moving away from him only caused the arrow to shift, but being near him was putting your baby close to the monster. So, in your panic, you tried to ease the pain by lifting your leg while shifting farther into the corner.

“How’s the bond now, uh? Is your pussy boy there?” he chuckled, while Sandor looked away. “Go on, tell him how bad we are”

“We should move” the third one spoke for the first time. “If he has felt her, he knows”

“You heard the boss” rough hands tried to push you up while you cried out.

“No” you repeated, letting Clyde put your whole weight up and almost collapsing after him. “Please, just let me go. Let me go”

Gone was the keep-quiet-don’t-talk. The tears kept rolling down your cheeks as Sandor stepped on your other side, holding you up a bit gentler than Clyde. Your baby started kicking on your side, and between the pain and desperation, you felt like throwing up and passing out.

Their chatter as they discussed what to do next was background noise. Certainly, they weren’t taking the arrow out that time, risk or no risk of being sealed inside and affecting the baby. You could barely stand up between your kidnappers and remember how to breath at the same time.

You wanted Azriel, that was the only thing you were certain. You shouldn’t have closed so late, you shouldn’t have gone to the bakery on your own, and you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed that morning. The baby agreed with you, answering each thought with a powerful kick to your kidneys and bladder.

You tried desperately to think about positive things, to keep yourself sane enough. Closing your eyes, you thought about him. His hazel eyes, that shone with a special light when he saw you between the crowd. His mouth, that curled up so lightly every time you stared at him. The freckles in his cheeks, that one that snuck up to the corner of his eye.

You could almost hear his voice reminding you to breath carefully and gain control of your body when the pregnancy pain hit, and you tried to do the same. Taking a deep breath through your mouth, holding it in. Letting it go through your nose.

“Oh, sure, because winnowing her again is the best solution, right?” Sandor scoffed loudly.

You moved your toes lightly, relieved to notice that despite the burning and overwhelming pain, you could still feel everything. From your feet to your head, you twitched every part of your body, finally able to breathe through the pain.

That didn’t mean you could move without them hauling you up, or that the baby was anymore happy.

“Enough! We’re moving now. Grab the things. We winnow – “ the anonymous man startled you, making you look up.

“I need to go the bathroom” you whispered, although it was heard as if you shouted it.

Three pair of eyes looked at you with raised brows, one pair certainly more annoyed than the other two. You didn’t know how far had it been since they took you, but it was still night time. During the last weeks, you had been paying a visit to your bathroom at least once every two hours.

And that was being generous.

The babe kicked again against your bladder, making your knees wobble. If you didn’t catch a bathroom, in a minute, you would have to let go.

“Sure. Do you want me run a bath too? Clyde, you could massage her feet. Is our lady tired of standing up for so long?”

“Nestor, she’s pregnant” Sandor was the only one looking slightly affected by your request. “My Lorren – “

“Your Lorren is home and we are here. Stop with Lorren!” Clyde let you go to push Sandor’s shoulders, which made you stumble back.

“I’m not carrying her if she’s gonna pee herself”

“She’s gonna be a big girl and hold it, right?” Nestor gave you a tense smile. “And you’re going to winnow her to the cabin”

“I’m not taking her to the cabin, man”

And while you stood up and waited for them to decided where to take you, you felt your bladder giving up. It wouldn’t be the first time you peed yourself, and with the strength your baby was kicking you right then, you were amazed that you managed to hold it for a few seconds.

Clyde and Nestor kept arguing loudly about the cabin, while Sandor just looked at you with a scrunched nose. You would have felt embarrassed, but you were in pain, you were scared and tired. It was hard to stay standing at any given moment with your belly. Whether it was the wings or the baby’s size, you were heavy.

The discomfort of the arrow was starting to become secondary. Even though you had just peed yourself, you still felt the kicks against your bladder – and almost against every part of your soul. You gripped the only thing available when another wave of kicks hit you, that being Sandor’s arm.

The man realized at the same time you did what was happening, although he didn’t have time to voice it out.

“Damn it!” Clyde barely missed the door coming out of its hinges. He didn’t miss the knife that embedded itself on his throat.

“Sandor, shoot him!” Nestor yelled to his friend, who was too busy keeping you off the ground now that the only support was holding his open neck. “Shoot!”

“Pathetic”

His voice was like a cold breeze in the summer, the feeling of his shadows helping you gently to stand up making your breath speed up once more.

Azriel appeared like a dark angel through the open door, his eyes not even leaving you as he stopped an arrow with his bare hand. His wings covered the moon behind him, but they didn’t stop the next figure coming through. Before Clyde hit the ground still chocking on his last breath, Rhysand had winnowed himself and Nestor out of the tavern.

You briefly wondered if death by Azriel’s hands right then would have been better than by the spymaster’s hands later.

Your mate said nothing as Sandor was ripped out of your side. Only by gripping his arm and pulling him away from you, you heard the awful crack of his arm breaking into two.

Sandor cried out, only getting a few seconds to acknowledge his arm before his left wing is ripped out of his back. Azriel’s shadows assessed your body with a sickening speed, coming to the same conclusion you had.

You were lowered softly onto the ground, silently watching what Azriel had always hidden from you. The unleveled part of him, the one that came out when someone he loved was in danger. He feared that part would take you away from him. But as you watched your mate tear Sandor to pieces, you only felt relief at his presence.

The male wasn’t done screaming for his life when he fell dead to the side. His mangled body was blocked from your view by training leathers and tearful hazel eyes. Everything he had felt during the last hours, that he had denied himself from so he would find you, crashed hard.

His scarred hands held your face while he scanned your body, stopping on your untouched belly and bleeding wound. He didn’t even flinch when he touched your soaked pants to pull it out.

The pain you were in in that moment prevented you from feeling anything more than a discomfort at the pull.

“You’re alive” Azriel cried out, not holding his tears back. “I thought – for a moment, I thought… I couldn’t feel you. And then I did, but you were gone. I didn’t know what had happened. I almost died, Y/N. You’re alive. You’re okay”

“Az” you whined, one of your hands gripping his shoulder harder than it was necessary.

“The baby’s bond… I followed it to the mountains. I know I shouldn’t, but I pulled it” he placed one hand on your belly, laughing tearfully when he felt a kick back. “I love you. I love you both so much”

There weren’t words to explain what Azriel had felt in the last few hours. How he had stumbled down into the snow when he had felt your end of the bond alive, how desperate he had been to follow it. Then, it had gone dark and if it wasn’t for Rhysand following him, he would have crashed right there.

He was glad his brother had been there, that he had taken a male away for questioning. Once you were safe and with Madja, he would make sure to take his time.

Azriel pressed a shaky, wet kiss to your forehead, then another one to your nose. He kissed each and every tear that had stained your cheeks in the past hour, finally pressing his lips against yours.

When he moved back, ready to winnow you both back to Velaris and hold you close for a week, he was surprised to see new tears running down your cheeks. What he thought was terror for the kidnapping, the anguish of your captors, hadn’t left your face.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned, leaving his own despair for later and looking back at your body.

“Az” you repeated.

You had realized what was happening before him, had known just before Sandor. His shadows couldn’t possibly understand what was happening, and so, Azriel didn’t. Any pain you had felt during that night paled away from the complete, absolute fear the crippled you as you stared at your mate in that dark tavern, where your worst memories had taken place.

“I’m here” he reminded you, his hand caressing the belly. “Where does it –“

“It’s coming” you finally admitted, watching the realization hitting him. “The baby’s coming”

It had felt like peeing yourself, like normal kicks, you guessed. What had given it away was crippling, motherly realization that your baby wanted out. That bond that had connected you to it was more present than ever, and somehow, you knew.

Azriel paled even more if that was possible. Right there, sitting in the dirty, bloodied and now empty tavern, your water had broken. You wanted to break down crying, because of course, given your history your baby would choose that moment.

When Azriel didn’t say anything, you lip wobbled again. Because, if he didn’t have the answers, who would?

“It’s coming” you said again, feeling like a broken record. “What do we do? What -?”

“I’ll winnow us to Velaris” Azriel interrupted you, knowing the answer before saying it.

“Madja said we can’t” you reminded him, although he already knew. “Oh God. Az, it’s coming. What do we do? I’m having a baby. I’m having a baby!”

Indeed, one of the first things Madja had advised you against was winnowing while pregnant. So close to the date, it would only trigger an early labor – and on the date, it would be dangerous to the baby and you. Rhysand would be back in Velaris by then, probably thinking you two were just fine and happy together once more.

And winnowing away to warn him and bring someone was out of the equation, since he wouldn’t be leaving you for a while now.

So Azriel gathered himself together and gave you a hesitant smile.

“We can do it” Azriel whispered, not sure of the truth behind his words.

“What?”

“I’m not leaving you. We’re here together, and we can do it. Madja told us what it’s like” Azriel tried to sound confident for you, for the both of you, but it came out as a question.

“We’re having a baby”

The first rays of sun entered through the empty space where the door was as you stared into his eyes. You could risk winnowing back and losing the baby and your life, or you could send away Azriel and hope he made it in time back with Madja or any other healer. Neither of those options felt like surviving to you, so you nodded at him and willed that tear to be the last one.

Azriel leaned in and kissed you softly. His lips were salty, from his tears or your own, and kind. While his shadows brushed every available part of your body, you let yourself forget about the closing wound, about the trembling of your knees and the pain in your belly.

Kissing him would always feel like the first time, like fireworks and Starfall. His nosed brushed your own and his tongue deepened the kiss. One of his hands cupped the back of your head, the hair there already covered in sweat. Even it was cold with the morning breeze, you were ready to get out of your body.

The kiss ended way too soon, just as another kick, or contraction, hit you harder than before. You sucked a breath and almost stumbled to the ground.

Azriel was quick to roll his sleeves up, lowering you until you were laying on the ground. Looking up at him, he gave you reassuring smile and hesitant nod.

“We’re having a baby” he squeezed your shoulder.

You tried to smile as another contraction hit and the first scream broke the silent morning.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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b00kdiary · 11 months

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Wildest dreams (IV)

ACOTAR The Batboys x Plus size reader

Where the reader finds herself gaining the attention of the most notorious males in Prythian and it seems that even her wildest dreams couldn’t prepare her for the night they would share.

Notes: This has Rhys, Cassian and Azriel with a plus-size reader since I literally couldn’t decide who it should be and thought that the best fantasy in the world would be all three :) Here’s to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some bat-boy love too xo

Warning: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, smut and the bat boys being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady

Part I Part II Part III Part V

Rhysand’s room was bigger than my entire apartment.

That’s all I could think as we winnowed in and I spotted the ornate and large armoires, nightstands and table, the plush sofa, the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the bed large enough to fit five males.

Or three males with wings and one female.

I opened my mouth to retort something about how ridiculously lavish this entire place was but as I turned on my heels, I stopped short at the sight of the three males before me. They were watching me, their bodies still as death, and yet their eyes shone like stars, dark and enthralling, sweeping over my body like a caress of the wind.

I felt myself tighten, a shiver running down my spine at the need and arousal wafting off of them and as Rhysand moved to the side, smirking wildly and then leaned his back against the wall, tucking his hands into his pant pockets, I knew that it was happening.

“Do your worst darling” Rhysand purred, his voice like silk in my mind.

I bit my lip, my eyes moving back over to Azriel and Cassian, both of whom stood near the doorway, their attention patient yet hungry upon me.

But I didn’t want to be patient anymore.

My legs were shaking and numb, but I steeled my nerves and in the near silence of the room began walking over to the Illyrian males. I saw their bodies stiffen, their eyes tracking my slow and deliberate movements as I neared them.

I approached Cassian first, a shy smile gracing my face as his expression lifted into a cheeky and knowing grin and as I stood before him, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin and the strong male musk of his body, all I could comprehend was how badly I needed him.

“Kiss me” I breathed, my words near-silent as my hands grazed up to lay at his chest and I tilted my chin to look into his eyes.

To see the exact moment that he lost control.

Cassian surged forward with grace and ferocity, his head ducking to capture my lips and I felt a whoosh of air spring from my lungs at the impact. I gasped, back arching and nails curling into the fabric of his shirt at the first taste of the sweetness of his lips, at the way his hands instantly moved around my body to grip me against him like a vice.

His lips were hungry against mine, devouring and satiating as he trapped me to him, fingers digging into my flesh. I moaned as his tongue entered my mouth, invading and battling against mine, a struggle that I more than happily lost.

My brain was fogging over at the sheer demand and want that Cassian kissed me with, at the feeling of his strong hands and muscled chest, the feeling of how much larger he was in comparison to me.

I whined slightly as I pulled away, laughing quietly at the look of disdain on Cassian’s face. My chest was rising and falling in harsh waves, but I inhaled deeply, gathering myself before shifting my body and turning to lock my gaze on Azriel.

I waited, cocking my head to the side as we remained locked, his stare wholly dark, a small tilting smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Azriel mused, raising a brow at me and I suppressed the laugh that threatened to escape me.

“Aren’t you going to come join the fun?” I asked, my voice shaking but I raised my chin in defiance all the same. Azriel chuckled lowly and my entire body lit up as he began to stalk over, his body and dark shadows exuding power and dominance.

My body prickled in anticipation as he came to stand before me, stopping close enough that his chest brushed against my taut nipples, so sensitive that I inhaled sharply at the feeling. Azriel smirked, eyes shining, noticing that subtle shift in my heart rate and breathing.

“I want you to kiss me, Shadowsinger,” I said, lifting a shaky hand to trail my fingers softly over the smooth skin revealed at the base of his throat. I gasped as he caught my hand in his own, his large and scarred fingers closing tightly over mine and he tugged me closer, his breath at my ear.

“I don’t like being told what to do, sweetheart,” He said, low and sinister “Why don’t you try again?”

He pulled back marginally, his eyes narrowing in a challenge and though a part of me wanted to push back and give him hell, I couldn’t ignore how heavy my breasts felt or ignore the steady and throbbing ache that tormented between my thighs.

“Azriel” I whimpered, shivering at the smooth touch of his fingers now at my cheek, “Please.”

That’s all it took, I saw his smirk turn feral and then he had his hand around my throat, firm but not painful as he pulled me in and crashed his lips against mine. I moaned, eyes fluttering shut, and my body melted into the security and firmness of his hold, the feeling of his hand at my throat making my pussy soak and my head spin.

Azriel’s kiss was different to Rhysand’s reverence or Cassian’s ferocity, his lips moved against mine in deep, languid strokes, passionate and indulgent in a way that had every flick of tongue or scrape of his teeth shredding more and more of my self-control.

I arched my back as Cassian pressed against it, his hands stroking over the flesh at my waist and hips, squeezing and kneading the flesh. My body was electric as Azriel pulled back, but I barely had time to comprehend as Cassian’s lips dipped to the juncture of my throat and began sucking and biting against the sensitive skin.

I gasped, eyes screwing as my body and mind overwhelmed itself, the feeling of hands tugging and gripping and their mouths kissing and biting across my skin and neck. Azriel was now at my breasts, kneading and pinching the sensitive flesh and I groaned, my head lolling back and resting against Cassian’s chest.

The material of my clothes was irritating against my skin and in my frenzy of need, I didn’t hesitate to start tugging at the cloth. I watched as Azriel and Cassian both paused, deep and satisfied hums escaping them as I tugged down my dress, my breasts falling out and exposed to the harsh wind.

“Fuck” Cassian swore, his fingers tightening as he eyes my exposed chest and any feeling of vulnerability or shame washed away at that look. I twirled, capturing Cassian’s lips in mine, my back now pressed to Azriel’s chest as his hands moved to cup and fondle my breasts. I sighed into Cassian’s mouth as Azriel tugged at my nipples and I felt my whole body tremble at the feeling.

I bit lightly against Cassian’s lip as I drew back earning a gruff chuckle and a swift and harsh tug of his hands at my breast, and Azriel huffed out a laugh at the whimper of pain and pleasure that escaped me at the action.

“Please,” I pleaded, eyes wide as I raised my gaze to Cassian then turned my head to the side to look at Azriel.

“You want more angel?” Cassian asked, trailing a finger around my nipple in a whisper of touch and I groaned, nodding my head desperately in response. Azriel smirked, his head dipping to press a sweet kiss against my collarbone before he and Cassian both pulled back from me.

Alarm filled me at the sudden loss of warmth, but I watched as Rhysand walked over, grinning as he stopped just before me.

“Take a seat on the bed darling, we’ll take care of you,” He said softly, his hand gently as he tucked a piece of my hair behind an ear.

I nodded, moving to the huge bed and carefully, I sat on the edge. I watched with bated breath as they all stood, towering over me and I suddenly felt silly that my breasts were out, and they were all fully clothed.

As if hearing my thoughts, Rhysand’s gaze dropped and he marvelled at my breasts in the light, moonbeams streaming in through the open space and cascading over my skin. I blushed at the appreciation in his eyes, and he grinned in response.

I leaned back onto my arms as Azriel silently came forward, my breath stuttering in my chest as he dropped to a knee at my feet. He smiled softly, his scarred hands trailing down the exposed skin of both thighs before he lifted my right, bending it at the knee.

I furrowed my brows, but my heart fluttered as I watched his attention drop to the lacing of my heels and with swift fingers, he began undoing the ties.

It was oddly serene, watching as he untied and then removed my right heel, placing it at his side on the floor. He held my ankle, pressing a tender kiss to my shin before slowly lowering my foot back down and grabbing my left leg. Again, with unhurried agility, he untied and removed my left shoe, and I watched as they disappeared, magicked to cauldron knows where.

Cassian and Rhysand moved to sit on either side of me on the bed, and I sighed at the feeling of their thighs against mine and their hands on my skin.

Rhys kissed my jaw and cheek, his hands trailing against my neck and then lower, cupping my breast. I exhaled harshly, my eyes fluttering shut at the feeling, of pleasure filling me as his hands began to tug and roll the taut bud between his fingers. I sighed contently as his hand moved downwards, tracing over my stomach and then to the side of my waist.

And my body froze as his hand reached the two strings knotted together at my waist.

He immediately paused there when he felt me clam up, my breath halting in my lungs as I realised what he intended to do.

“May I untie this darling?” He asked quietly. I swallowed hoarsely, my head slowly shifting to meet his eyes. I was weary, insecurities and worries eating at me but the small and encouraging smile that Rhysand gave made the breath ease in my lungs.

I inhaled and exhaled to steady myself, my eyes closing for a moment to gather my wits. I focused on the feeling of Azriel’s hands at my thighs, the small, soothing circles he drew there, then on the feeling of Cassian’s chest pressed to my side and back, that strong wall of safety.

And then to the sweetness in Rhysand’s eyes.

That lack of judgement, the whole desire that I knew he felt, they all felt when they saw me.

I blinked my eyes open and with a steady exhale, nodded my head.

“Yes, you can untie it.” The words escape me with an easy exhale and Rhysand’s lip tilts at the corner, the stars in his eyes twinkling as he looks from me, down to that knot at my side. I try and force myself to breathe as he swiftly unties the knot and with nimble fingers, begins to unwrap the material to expose my body beneath.

Their eyes are all on me and I feel Cassian’s rough fingers trail my skin, helping Rhys to tug the dress down my arms, letting it pool around me on the bed. My face was heated, feeling my stomach, breasts and legs all bare to their eyes, the lace panty I wore covering my most intimate part.

I cringed moving my arms to cover myself, to cover all the parts I disliked that the moon was highlighting but Rhysand clucked his tongue, his hands gently pulling my arms away. I met his stare and saw the fire burning in them as his gaze trickled down my flesh, and not even for a second did I see him look unimpressed.

“So beautiful,” Cassian muttered hoarsely against my neck, kissing the flesh there and the sweet words made me purr, my eyes fluttering at the contact. I bit my lip, looking from Rhys to Cassian and then Azriel, and they all looked insatiable still, making sure to show me how much they adored my body with their dark eyes and feral smiles.

I turned my head, silent as I brought my lips to Cassian and he groaned as I dragged him into a deep, slow kiss, my hands moving to Rhysand, pulling him to touch me, needing the feeling of him on me. Cassian grows wilder, teeth and tongues clashing as he devours me, and I moan as Rhys fondles my breasts, the ache between my thighs growing.

I pull away when Azriel begins tracing over the band on my underwear, still on his knees before me, looking as if he was ready to worship every inch of my skin, so dark and tempting. I saw the question in his eyes as he looked at my underwear, and when I lifted my hips, he smirked, his hands gentle as he tugged the material down my legs, inch by inch.

He marvelled at the spot between my thighs, his breath hitching as he pulled the material down the last inch and discarded it on the floor behind him. None of them seemed to be breathing, not as I slowly parted my legs, my body trembling slightly before settling them on Rhys and Cassian on either side, their hands possessively clamped down on the flesh, keeping me spread wide open.

Azriel kneeled and stared, his chest rising and falling unevenly, rattled as he admired me and my body heated at the look, at the desire but that ache was steadily growing and I shifted uncomfortably, needing him to touch me.

“Come on, Az,” Cassian muttered, his freehand running soothingly through my hair, running it down my exposed back and I shivered in response, “She’s been such a good girl for us, stop teasing her.”

Azriel smirked, raising a brow at me as if in challenge and I pouted, my breathing stuttered and harsh in the silence of the room. But then my breathing stopped entirely when Azriel lifted both hands, resting them on either side of my thighs, and with his shining eyes locked on mine, his head moved forward- inching to where I needed him.

The first flick of his tongue had a moan mewling out of me and my back arched, resting against Rhys and Cassian beside me. Azriel huffed, the breath cool against the most sensitive part of me and then dove back in, still soft, his tongue whirling against my clit- still teasing.

“Oh Cauldron, Azriel, please.” I moaned and Rhysand laughed under me, his hand tracing my nipples, cupping, and fondling my heavy breasts, but it wasn’t enough. Azriel kissed my thigh, and just as I was about to growl at him, he latched onto my clit, and I gasped.

Azriel ate me like a man starved, his tongue lapping against me in long languish strokes one second and then flicking hard and fast against me the next, drawing wave after wave of pleasure from me. I moaned, my hips bucking, and Cassian and Rhys were at my side, holding me down, watching and pressing sweet kisses to my neck, or pinching against my nipple.

Azriel groaned against me, the deep heady rumble reverberating against my core and making me clench, my eyes falling shut at the overwhelming feeling that wrecked through me. I had males go down on me before, rarely, but it had never felt like this.

“How does she taste brother?” Rhysand mused, suckling against my neck and I curved my neck to the side to allow him better access, feeling his sly smirk against my skin. My body shook as Azriel pulled back, a light sheen of wetness coating his uptilted lip and an ethereal shine glinting in his hazel eyes.

“Like heaven, Rhys,” Azriel breathed, moving to lick a bold stripe up the length of my core, making me whimper and writhe, “Like fucking heaven.”

He goes back in, grinning against me as I pant, my hand coming to lace into his hair, my fingers knotting into the silken locks, tugging at the root when his teeth scrape against me. My moan is almost embarrassingly loud, but Azriel feeds off it, suckling harder and my toes curl when I feel two fingers prod me, and something in me coils as he pushes those two scarred fingers in and curls.

“Fuck, watching you like this is maddening angel,” Cassian groans, his head dipping and his mouth latching onto my nipple, his teeth biting against me. He does this in tandem with Azriel’s fingers fucking in and out of me and I’m a moaning, writhing mess before them.

“I can’t-“ I cry out, too many hands, too many sensations, too much pleasure. Then suddenly there’s a flash through my mind and I’m looking at myself, and Cassian and Azriel- through Rhysand’s eyes.

My body is arched, and Cassian looks feral as he toys and sucks at my breasts, looking euphoric as he pleasures me. And then Azriel, who sucks and nibbles on my clit, clueing onto how I’ve started to tremble, and my breath has begun stuttering, his fingers a steady, firm rhythm plunging into me, the sound so lewd.

“Look at how perfect you look, Darling,” Rhys purrs, caressing my mind “I think we could all stay here for the rest of our fucking lives and worship you.”

Azriel runs his teeth against my clit, his fingers curling inside me in tandem and that dam of pleasure and ruin within me snaps. My back arches, and I watch myself, moaning and chanting Azriel’s name as release courses through me, making me shake and buck and writhe.

He doesn’t relent, still nibbling slowly and his fingers curling in and out of me and Cassian pulls back watching me, admiring me as my chest rises and falls with sharp, desperate breaths.

“Fuck,” Cassian muttered, and I nearly had to beg Azriel to stop teasing me, when he plucked off from my clit, slowly easing his soaking fingers from my pulsing and aching core.

My face was flushed, and my body was sweaty and hot from it all, and as my eyes fluttered open and met with Azriel, my cheeks heated with shyness. He grinned, his mouth still wet and his fingers running soothingly across my thighs, easing the tension, and shaking in them, guiding me down from my high.

I didn’t say anything, instead, I ran my hand down Azriel’s hair and neck and slowly pulled him up onto his knees and his face closer to me. I tasted the sweetness on his lips, tasted myself on his lips, and groaned into it as he pushed his tongue into my mouth, kissing me deep and slow and needy.

I drew back hesitantly from the kiss, my face inches from the Shadowsinger’s and the adoration in his eyes made my heart skip a beat. He looked over me, seeing the sweat and heat, my heart still racing, and his eyes softened.

“We can stop here if you’d like,” He said quietly, his eyes showing he meant it, “We don’t need to keep going.”

“I want to,” I ran my thumb over his lips gently and then sat up, looking at a smiling Cassian and then at Rhys, who was smirking, gratification and pride shining in his purple eyes. “I want to, so bad.”

And that’s all it took.

_____________

@satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy

#acotar #sjmaas #sarah j maas #rhysand #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #smut #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar smut #plus size reader #curvy reader #rhys x reader #bat boys x reader

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spellbookd · 7 months

Text

Little Mouse

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader

Summary: azriel has a new toy to play with, and she is oh so much fun

Warnings: semi-public sex, stalking (??), dubcon (coercion), very slight dumbification, dacryphilia, azriel's a little weird (but like in a hot way)

Words: 4733

A/N: first fic on this blog and my first smut fic ever 🫣 kinda nervous. I really enjoyed writing this and I want to get into writing smut more often, if you have any suggestions, please let me know! I'm always up for constructive criticism.

NSFW below the cut, minors DNI

The winding corridors of the palace left you dizzy, lips set in a deep frown as you searched relentlessly for the entrance to the library. Your first day and you were already late…not that it was your fault, anyhow. Your escort for the day decided not to show up, so you were left wandering the halls of an unfamiliar palace that felt like it was triple the size of Velaris itself. What a mess.

Coming to an open landing, you frowned. There were two hallways on either side of you, and both looked entirely identical, with no signs or indicators telling you which way to go. “You’d think with a palace this big there’d be at least someone walking around.” You muttered, glancing down both hallways to see if anyone passing by could help you. Alas, it was utterly empty, leaving you standing in the middle of the landing, looking completely idiotic.

“I swear, whoever this Azriel guy is…” you groan, throwing yourself down the hallway on the left, opening the door at the end only to be met with another splitting corridor. “I’m going to kill him.”

At your words, you hear a rustle behind you, causing you to whip around quickly, eyes wide. No one was there, the corridor behind you was still empty. “Hello?” you call out, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. No one was here…and yet…a scent brushed past you, mist and cedar and something distinctly male. You frown again, walking further into the landing, searching for whoever may be hiding here. The feeling of being watched takes over you, gooseflesh rising over your skin, and before you can stop yourself, you’re calling out again, “I could really use the help, you know.”

There’s still no response, and tears start to prick at your eyes in frustration, a pout forming on your lips. You pull the invitation letter out of your pocket, reading over it again to ensure you aren’t missing any details. There were no instructions on how to reach the library, only a key to your dorm room and specific instructions to wait for a male named Azriel to escort you there. After twenty minutes of waiting in the foyer, you decided it would be better to look for the library yourself…obviously, you were incredibly wrong “This blows, I’m so late.”

You turn to head back the other way when a large male body comes into view, leather wings outstretched and a small, almost imperceptible smirk gracing his lips. You’re surprised at first, jumping at the sudden appearance of the male, but you sag in relief, hopeful he can show you where to go.

He says nothing, only watches you silently as you smile awkwardly, throwing your hand up in greeting. “Um, hello. I’m one of the new scholars invited to study by the High Lord and…I seem to have lost my way to the library.”

You wait for his response, but he stays silent, only stepping closer to you, observing you in a way that makes you shift on your feet. You tear your gaze away from him, swallowing thickly before adding, “Do you…um…do you happen to know the way? I’m already very late…so…”

Finally, he replies, voice dark and smooth, “Yes.” That’s all he says before he turns on his heel, circling back through the hallways you had just come through. You struggle to keep up, pace speeding up to match his long stride. He notices, a smirk curling at his lip, yet he does nothing to correct it. Irritation lights a fire in your veins, what the hell is wrong with this guy?

He looks down at you, and you rush to shift your gaze, taking interest in the art along the walls of the palace instead, hands wringing in nervous habit. As you’re walking, you get the distinct feeling that he’s watching you, despite his eyes being trained forward, locked on the journey to the library. You swallow thickly, teeth poking out to chew on your bottom lip when he breaks the silence, “Don’t be nervous, Little Mouse, you have nothing to fear.”

You tense at his voice, looking up at him with wide eyes. Little…mouse? “Uh…sorry.” You reply awkwardly, gaze shifting away from him again, speeding up your walk once more to try and get out of this situation. He stops you, blocking your path down the hallway. He’s painfully handsome, you think. It’s a shame that when he opens his mouth, his beautiful face can’t make up for it.

“There’s no need to apologize, Little Mouse,” you bristle at the name, and his smirk deepens as he turns around, pace faster than it was before. “I do find your nervousness to be quite amusing. I must admit, it’s been a while since I’ve been so entertained.”

Your legs strain to keep up with him, and a slight annoyance lifts your tone as you bite back, “Glad I could be of service.”

He chuckles at your reaction before coming to a stop in front of a large wooden door. His smirk widens as he pushes it open, gesturing with a hand for you to enter. You nod in thanks before stepping over the threshold, the awkward encounter forgotten entirely as you take in the sight of the library, floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked high with books, all of various age and binding. It’s difficult to hide your grin at the sight, immediately forgetting about the male and stepping up to the first shelf, fingertips brushing against the cool leather spines.

“Now, why would you be so excited about…a library.” You nearly jump out of your skin when the strange male is once again next to you, thinking he would have left after he escorted you to your location.

You don’t turn to him, still scanning the shelves for books in your area of study, “You’re kidding, right? All this knowledge, laid out right in front of you? How could you not be excited?”

He smiled softly now, suddenly more genuine than he had been this whole time, “You have a point…this library is home to much knowledge and secrets.” He pauses, smirk settling once again, “You’re right, Little Mouse. It is quite exciting.”

You turn to him fully now, eyes narrowing dangerously, “Why do you keep calling me that? I do have a name, you know!” You snap, though that only seems to spur him on, grin widening at your outburst.

“It suits you, don’t you think?” He chuckles softly, bending down so he’s at your level. You back away from him, attention returning to the shelves.

“You could at least give me your name, since you’re so insistent.”

“Azriel.” He replies, and you can hear the humour in his voice as you whip towards him, eyes full of rage.

“You? You were supposed to be leading me from the beginning?”

He laughs heartily, “I was with you the whole time, Little Mouse.”

Your mouth drops open at that, and it’s then that you process the male’s scent. Cedar and mist. As if to prove his point further, he rustles his wings behind his back, emitting the same sound that you heard back in the corridor. Now fuming with rage, you push past him, grabbing a random book off the shelf and walking towards the tables in the middle of the library, fixing him with a glare as you pass, “Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

His smirk is enraging as he gestures towards the tables, letting you walk past him without saying another word.

You find a corner of the library, hidden away from everyone else, and lay out your supplies. Reading over the title of the book, it’s something that you aren’t even remotely interested in, but there’s no way you’re going back over there and facing that male again. Instead, you crack the book open, flipping to the introduction pages before dipping your pen in your ink and beginning to take notes. Soon, you immerse yourself in your work, everything else fading away into nothing.

A few hours pass with no interruption, and it isn’t until you are bored to tears by the book that you hear the chair in front of you squeak, a heavy body falling into it soon after. “That seat’s taken.” You lie, not looking up from your page, eyes drooping with sleep. Whoever is in the seat doesn’t move, only leans backwards casually. Annoyed, you look up, only for your eyes to widen as you spot Azriel, staring at you intently. He smiles wide, and if he wasn’t such an asshole, you would find him utterly beautiful.

“There she is.” He says, and you couldn’t help the flip your stomach did at the tone. You rolled your eyes regardless, turning back to the book with no response. He leans forward at that, arms resting just at the top of your book, his heavenly scent devouring your senses. “Am I that unimportant to you, Little Mouse?”

You grit your teeth before giving him an indignant look, shutting your book forcefully. “Don’t you have, I don’t know, a job? Anything better to do than just sitting here and harassing scholars.”

He chuckles at your irritation, “Why does my job matter right now?”

“Because I’m trying to do mine. And you’re making it incredibly difficult. Go be a nuisance somewhere else.”

“Aww, you don’t want me with you?” he smirks, and you realize at that moment that this is just a game to him. He’s riling you up for his pleasure, because for some reason, he’s decided that you’re his source of entertainment for the day.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” You bite out, capturing the attention of the other scholars and priestesses around you. You flush at the attention, embarrassed, before sinking into your seat.

The gleam in his eyes shows that he particularly liked that outburst, an amused look morphing his features, “Oh? Was that a bit louder than you expected?”

Having none of it, you gather the book in your hands and throw your supplies into your bag once more, not caring if the ink is dry. “I’m leaving. Have a nice day.” you bite out, standing from your seat and rushing towards the door.

Before you can get to the door, he appears at the threshold in a wreath of shadows, a splitting grin morphing his features. You recover from your shock quickly, moving to push past him, but his wings snap out, blocking your exit entirely. “Oh, Little Mouse, you aren’t going anywhere just yet.”

Anger seizes you, and before you can think, your hand is raised, open palm connecting with his cheek in a loud slap. As soon as you’ve done it, your eyes widen, and you back away from him, terrified of what he’ll do. Surprisingly, the male only chuckles, leaning towards you, “Did that make you feel better, Little Mouse?”

Before you can reply, he’s backed you into a wall, hands on either side of your body. As he leans closer to you, lips brushing your ear, “I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”

Tears prick your eyes at the contact, your heart hammering in your chest, begging for someone to walk past and save you from this situation. His wings flare out, blocking your view from behind him. “Please,” you whisper, tears now falling down your cheeks, “this isn’t fun for me. Please, let me go.”

You tremble as a soft chuckle reaches your ear, breath caressing the side of your neck, “It’s very fun to play with you. I enjoy how easy it is to take control of you.”

You shudder at his words, searching for anything to get him off you so you can make your escape. “S-surely the High Lord would not be happy with you…harassing one of his scholars.”

He chuckles dryly, wings loosening from their taught position behind him, but his smirk is still proud, “I doubt Rhysand will be angry with this.” His words are threatening, but despite his tone, he’s stepping away from you. “In any case, I’ve enjoyed our time together, Little Mouse…and I will most definitely see you again.” He takes a step back, offering you his hand. You stare back in astonishment, surprised he would let you off this easily. “For now, you should clean up those tears…no matter how amusing it was to see them.”

Ignoring his hand, you rushed to the door, pulling it open with all your might before hurrying down the hallway, rushing up to the left staircase where your invitation said the dorms would be. You didn’t dare look behind you, sure that if you did, he would be waiting there for you, ready to pounce.

~ ☆ ~

The next week passes with no encounter from Azriel. You are slowly getting used to the swing of things at the library and even made a few friends with the other scholars studying here with you. You didn’t tell any of them about your encounter with Azriel, afraid of what they may say. Apparently, he’s a big hit with the females around here, and you have to wonder if any of them have had any real interactions with him. Sure, he’s beautiful, but the fear he instilled in you that day…you couldn’t imagine he could behave in any way other than that.

You pointedly decided to ignore the fact that you hadn’t been able to get him off your mind these past few days. Even more so the fact that you had your fingers buried in your cunt just last night, imagining it was his hand working you so well, his words playing on repeat in your head. Yes, that absolutely didn’t happen at all.

Pushing the thoughts of him out of your mind, you arrived at the library, choosing another secluded spot in the corner. Soon, you’re consumed in your work, hastily scribbling notes on your parchment about healing herbs and what they’re used for. Utterly entranced by the topic, your brows furrow in concentration, pausing only to dip your pen into your ink pot. You worked late into the night, barely noticing the passage of time, even as scholars and priestesses packed up their belongings, ready to turn in for the night. You loved when your work consumed you like this like all that mattered in the world was you and the words you worshipped, like not a single thing could break you from your stupor.

“Studying, Little Mouse?” A voice like velvet whispered into your ear, startling you. You grit your teeth, but chose to ignore the insistent buzzing in your ear, only dipping your pen back in the ink and starting from where you left off. He chuckles and leans closer, peering over your shoulder to see what you’re doing, “Oh, I do love it when you are lost in a book like that…”

You ignore him still, but an involuntary shiver runs down your spine, and you bite your lip to suppress the blush that rises to your cheeks. “Maybe I could find a better use for you instead…”

You can practically hear the smirk in his words, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes from your lips. Your hands tremble, pen falling from your grasp and rolling onto the floor, and you know he’s won. He chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction, and grabs hold of your chin, pulling your face towards him. “Hello, Little Mouse.” He whispers, and your eyes glaze at the sound of it, “I think it’s time you gave me your full attention.” You swallow thickly at his words, eyes wide as you gaze up at him. His smirk remains, “It’s so easy to get a reaction out of you. Have I been on your mind?”

Your face burns, breath stuttering out of you, and he looks at you like he knows exactly where your hands have been. Quickly, you push his hands away, scrambling for anything to get him to leave you alone, “I told the High Lord about you, you know.” His brow quirks, and you know he can tell you’re lying, but you turn back to your work anyway, “He was not pleased.”

“Oh, you told Rhysand on me, did you? And what did he say?” You bend down, reaching for your pen off the floor, only so you didn’t have to face him. “He said there would be repercussions to your…behaviour.”

“And how exactly is he going to hold me responsible?” He watches you intently as you turn your face back to him, and you know he finds pleasure in watching you scramble for a response.

“I-I wasn’t privy to the details.”

He leans down, now eye level with you, “What do you think Rhysand will do to me, Little Mouse? What do you think would happen if he knew I was here, right now, with you?”

Your eyes narrow, lips curling into a sneer. “I imagine you’ll be in trouble for harassment.”

His smirk was devilish, head tilting as he watched your expressions, noting the blush on your cheeks from the proximity, “and how can I tell if my attention is truly unwanted?” He pauses, eyes flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, “I think I can convince you to change your mind.”

Your hands move up to his chest, attempting to push him away, but he grips your wrists in his own. The grip is not painful, but it’s enough to still you, eyes widening at his actions, “I don’t want you.”

“I think you’re lying to yourself. Your lips and your body are telling me two different things. I think you want to give in…you’re just too stubborn.” You struggle in his grip, only for it to tighten. He chuckles at your attempts, “There’s fear in your eyes, but there’s something else, too. Care to tell me what that is?”

“Go to hell.”

He laughs then, a hearty chuckle that has his shoulders shaking, “Oh, you are just too cute.” He cages you between the table and his body, face only inches from yours as he leans over you. You’re sure he can hear your heart hammering in your chest, or scent the arousal now pooling between your legs, unable to stop your body’s natural reaction to him. “You want this, I know you do.” His voice is smooth as silk as he whispers, “I could take you, right here and now.”

You choke at his words, eyes widening, and his answering grin tells you he’s got you right where he wants you. Like a mouse caught in a trap. He leans in further, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” teeth graze the lobe of your ear, and your answering whimper only spurs him on further. “Would you like the feeling of my lips on yours? My hands on your skin?” He pauses, emphasizing the point by slowly grazing the cold skin of your thighs and pulling away to watch your expressions as the next words leave his mouth, “What about my cock, Little Mouse? Would you like that?”

Your body betrays your mind, legs pressing together to relieve the pressure gathered there. He notices, eyes flicking down, keenly aware of how your body reacts to his words, “You’re not doing a very good job of hiding it anymore, are you?”

“Leave me alone.” You say weakly, voice breaking, and he only laughs at your stubbornness. You push away from him, hands grappling for purchase at the edge of the table, but he follows you, keeping the same distance. All it would take was a slight inch forward, and his lips would be on yours.

“I know you want me, Y/N. It’s only a matter of you giving in.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard your name on his lips, and the sound of it breaks your composure. Without a second thought, you’re surging forward, lips pressing against his, moaning at the taste of him. He’s grinning into the kiss, pulling you from your seat in the chair and wrapping his arms tightly around you, causing you to tremble in his embrace. You whimper softly as his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You melt into him, the taste of him more intoxicating than the finest wine.

Without warning, he takes hold of the back of your thighs, lifting you onto the table, books and ink forgotten entirely. You spread your legs for him, and he slips between them before wrapping your thighs around his waist. His lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw to the column of your throat, leaving wet, hot kisses in their wake. You moan desperately, grinding your hips against his hard body, aching for any friction. “I thought you didn’t want me, Little Mouse?” he chuckled into your skin, emphasizing his point with short little bites, causing you to jolt into his touch.

“Shut up.” You snap, pulling his lips to yours for another kiss, “you talk entirely too much.” Your words are cut off as his hand pulls your hair back roughly, exposing your neck to him as he sucks on the spot just below your jawline, causing you to cry out. “I much prefer it when you’re moaning for me.” He whispers, hand trailing up your bare thigh, slipping past the hem of your dress. You arch into him, grinding against him once more, begging for his touch.

“Please, Azriel, I need you to touch me.” Your words are coming out between short pants, and he grins at the desperate tone in your voice, cock straining against his pants as he watches you lose yourself in him. “I thought of you all night. Couldn’t get you off my mind.” You cried out, whimpering as his hand trailed further up your thigh, so close to where you needed him most.

“Yeah?” His lips found purchase on your neck again, revelling in the way you shivered into his touch as his fingers finally brushed over your clothed pussy, slick with need. “Thought of me while you played with yourself, didn’t you, Little Mouse?” You nodded helplessly, your cunt clenching around nothing as his fingers toyed with your clit through your panties. You arched into him again, whimpering against him, completely unable to use your words to tell him what you wanted. He seemed to enjoy torturing you, watching as you writhed beneath him at the slightest touch. “Of course you have. I’ve hardly touched you and you’re already dripping.”

He pushed your panties aside, and the first touch of his fingers against you had your blood searing. Your hands flew to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as fingers circled your clit at a torturous pace. You bucked into him, eyes rolling back, cries falling from your lips as you begged him for more.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” You could practically hear the smirk on his lips as he pulled his hand away, leaving you cold and throbbing. You whimpered at the loss of contact, only to cry out as his fingers plunged inside you, starting a ruthless pace. You moved with him, hips bucking against his hand to meet him halfway, practically trembling at the way his fingers curled just right, brushing against that spot you couldn’t quite reach on your own. He chuckles as a particularly loud moan leaves your lips, relishing in the way your walls fluttered around his fingers. “You like that, Little Mouse?” His pace quickened, thumb brushing over your clit in quick, tight circles. You were sure you were on fire now, hovering at the edge of release. “Come on my fingers, pretty girl. I know you want to.”

You threw your head back at his words and came with a cry, clenching around him as your release dripped down your thighs. He groaned at the feel of you, thoroughly working you through your orgasm until the last shudders of it passed through you. He pulled his fingers from your heat, and a whine tore from your lips at the loss of him, mind still fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure he had given you. You barely had time to recover before he was removing your underwear completely and pulling your hips towards his, his cock sliding into you in one fluid thrust. You yelped, pressure building behind your eyes as he pulled back and slammed into you, over, and over, and over, giving you no time to adjust to the stretch.

“A-Azriel!” You panted, gripping the fabric of his shirt for dear life as he continued his relentless pace. “S-slow down, it’s t-t-too much!” Your stuttered words only spurred him on, teeth clamping around the junction of your neck and shoulder to muffle the deep, needy groan rumbling through his chest.

“Is this what you imagined last night, with your fingers buried inside you?” His raspy voice rang through your ears, and your cheeks heated as you nodded, panting helplessly. “Were you imagining my cock, Little Mouse, making you feel good?”

“Yes, gods, yes!” The coil in your stomach wound tight, and before you knew it, you were coming again. Stars danced across your vision and tears flowed freely down your cheeks, wordless babbling falling from your lips as he pounded into you with no reprieve.

His cock twitched at the sight of you, hand coming up to push your cheeks together, forcing you to look in his eyes. His grin was wild, eyes blazing as he spoke “Have I fucked my little scholar stupid?” His other hand lowered from your hip to pinch your clit, sending jolts of electricity down your body, tears flowing faster until you were sobbing through your pursed lips. He groaned deeply, hips stuttering “My Little Mouse looks so pretty when she cries.”

Suddenly, he was pushing you down so your back lay flat on the table, one hand returning to your hip as the other continued to pinch and flick at your clit. “One more sweetheart, just give me one more.” He pounded into you harder now, a feral gleam in his eye as he drank in every moan, every sob, every broken cry. His resolve was thinning, but he held fast until your cunt was clamping around him again, nearly losing his senses as various iterations of his name fell from your lips like a prayer. He spilled into you at the same time you arched off the table, deep, guttural groans joining your high-pitched whimpers like a symphony. His pace finally slowed, chest heaving as he watched you writhe beneath him, eyes screwed shut and cheeks wet with tears. You were still fluttering around him when he pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss, unable to form a single coherent thought as he stuffed himself back into his pants.

His insufferable smirk was back on his lips as he looked down at you, glancing between your legs to watch as his release spilled out of you down your thighs, and onto the surface of the table. Your cheeks flushed, but you had no energy to retort back as you lay panting on the table. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you could walk. Your limbs felt molten, and you were sure any attempt to stand would leave you falling to the floor in a heap. As if reading your thoughts, he pulls you into a sitting position, one arm bracketing around your waist as the other brushes your hair behind your ear. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your spine as you look up at him. He wipes away the lingering tears with the pad of his thumb before speaking, “You did so well for me, Little Mouse. Playing with you was entirely too much fun.”

His hand grips your chin, bringing you into one final kiss before pulling away from you entirely. He walks away, leaving you gaping after him until the door to the library swings shut, leaving with not a single glance back at you. Taking a few minutes to compose yourself, you stand on weak legs, sliding your underwear back on before gathering your things, all the while wondering how the hell this situation even arose.

You weren’t entirely sure, but you had a feeling it was far from over.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut

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readychilledwine · 10 months

Text

Cassian Week Day 2 Prompt Gentle-

A/N: Cassian has My heart, but I rarely can write him as a love interest the way some people so amazingly can. When I think of Cassian, I think of my older brother. A kind, loving, and gentle person who, due to his larger size, was cast into this role of a dominating force, and Cassian embraced it. "Gentle" is my absolute favorite prompt from this week, and I had planned to keep this to myself, but I have so many little fics and drabbles already locked away that I wanted to make sure anyone else who sees Cassian as the safe big brother also had something to read.. So enjoy 💜

Warnings- implied injury and unedited (you know the best warning)

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

Reader is the youngest Archeron sister, and after being made, has begged Rhysand to allow her to have combat training. Hand to hand doesn't go as planned, though, when Azriel gets asked to spar her so Cassian can watch and take notes on her progress.

—----------

Your back hit the training mat with a loud thud. All you could do was blink the shock from your system as Cassian ran over to your side separating you from Azriel. The loud cough and gasp you released as your body screamed for oxygen had you rolling to your side.

"What the fuck, Az?" Cassian was in shock. His voice was muffled to your ears as you tried to focus on calming the burning sensation in your lungs.

"She was doing so well, I just-" Azriel sighed at the look Cassian shot him, "I got caught up in thinking it was someone more experienced. I thought she could handle it." Azriel's own guilt hit you instantly as he watched you curl up on the ground. "Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn-"

"We haven't even begun to discuss what to do when someone is about to throw you or slam you down. She has only trained for a few weeks, Azriel." Cassian moved to you, kneeling on one knee at your side as your body continued to try to breathe through the pain in rushed pants. "Y/n, are you okay?" Cassian's rough hands braced your neck softly as he sat you up and leaned you against his thigh. "Arms above your head, baby. You knocked her breath straight out of her." Cassian moved you again, trying to stop you from decompressing your chest and stomach, "Next time, push your body weight the opposite way he is throwing, y/n. Do not let Azriel rag doll you." Azriel scoffed at the comment, kneeling down next to you on the other side and holding your hand in his.

Cassian pulled you in closer to him with a glare. He was softly rubbing his hand up and down your spine slowly to coach you into deep breaths. "Breathe sweetheart, you're okay. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There we go, just like that." Cassian smiled brightly at you as your breathing became more regular. "Rhys and Nesta are going to kill you." He looked at Azriel with a serious expression. "Ness already is upset we are forcing her to train. She might actually steal a knife and stab you."

Azriel sighed deeply. "That would get Nesta out of her room at least." They both watched as you cracked the smallest smile before leaning into Cassian more. "I think she's done for today. That will leave a nasty bruise. I'll have one of the twins go to the room to rub salve on it."

Cassian nodded in agreement. Your eyes met the upset ones of another male as Cassian began to speak again. "I'll carry you up to your room, y/n. Az, can you clean up here? I want to talk her through what she did well and wrong. Y/n, Please don't tell Rhys about this.."

"He already knows," you whispered softly before pointing to the doorway where your sister's husband stood. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he studied the scene before him. Anger graced his face as he took in your disheveled, messy braid of dark brown hair, your red face, and your soft pants from being unable to take a full breath yet. Cassian chuckled lowly while looking between Rhys and Azriel. "Be nice, Rhys. I asked. It was-"

"I told Cassian to train you," the high lord said sternly. "Strictly for this reason. Now I get to tell Feyre you were hurt tonight when we speak."

Azriel was the first to turn as Cassian gently picked you up, supporting your knees with one of his arms. "Let's go get you a bath, princess," he whispered gently into your ear. "They're about to fight and it might get ugly. Our dear Rhysie has some pent up anger that he does not want to admit to, and Azriel is always more than happy to fight him."

You nodded, arms going around his neck so you could tuck yourself further into his chest. "Why did he want you to train me?"

"I would never throw you this early. Soft gentle movements until you have more experience, more balance, better strength. Az didn't want to baby you. Rhysand and I did. Because. Well. You are the baby." His voice was soft as he reached the room you and Azriel had begun to share since being made.

He continued after opening the door. "Azriel felt that was unnecessary. That you were capable and babying you after you begged us to ensure you never felt helpless again was unfair."

"And he won because of the bond?" Cassian nodded to the question as he set you down on the bed and Sat beside you.

"We compromised. I told him I would train you with progress updates every two weeks where he was involved. That is why he was there today. To spar you while I watched to see what I needed to fix, what we could progress on. I will be talking to him, though. You were not ready for that level of hand to hand. He needs to be more gentle with my baby sister."

Cassian's hand continued rubbing up and down your back as he held you. "Your footing was wonderful. You have made so much progress in the past couple of weeks. Feyre would be proud." He smiled down at you, then switched to a serious face, "You had a few strikes we need to work on, and we need to teach you how to get out of a few holds again. You did very well, though. I am very happy with your progress."

You smiled against his chest. "It must be the good, gentle teacher."

Cassian hummed as he placed a kiss on your head and pulled you in for another warm hug. "Or the aggressive dedicated student."

#cassian acotar #cassianappreciationweek2023 #cassianxplatonic!reader #cassian x reader #day 2: gentle

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thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

Text

Cowboy Like Me - Part 5

Azriel x Reader

Reader is introduced to the rest of the Inner Circle, Elain included. Azriel feels awkward. Nyx is adorable. Amren does what Amren does best and throws shade.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: suggestive language, alcohol

The “River House” as it was so lovingly referred to was stunning and not a house in the slightest. It was an estate, and a massive one at that. I was able to hide my awe at the size of it upon arriving to the grounds but any mask of indifference disappeared as I stepped inside.

The air inside welcomed me with the aromas of seasoned foods and warm bread. Fresh flowers and art decorated the entry hall of the manor - loving, thoughtful intricacies decorated the attached living area along with cozy furniture and amenities. Somehow the High Lord and High Lady managed to turn this grand estate into a home. The sounds of laughter from another room were enough to tell me that this was a home of love and not the cold, indifferent atmosphere of many in the upper echelon of Prythian.

Before I could explore, Mor grabbed my arm and whisked me up the grand staircase. “Come on! Let’s indulge in the riches of our excursion.” Her full lips spread into a warm smile.

The room - her room - was exactly what I’d picture for the female. It was somehow luxurious if a bit sultry, while warm and welcoming, much like she was. She took my hand, leading me to a large oak vanity. With a flick of her wrist, the pocket realm revealed our spoils. Rummaging through them, Mor pulled out cosmetics from one of the boutiques we’d stopped in. I went to reach for the items but Mor swatted my hand away. “I know you’re capable of doing your own makeup but I believe I’ve got many years of experience on you. Pleaseeee, may I do your makeup? Please, please, please?”

She made a show of the pleading forming a pout on her lips, batting thick eyelashes as if she were a child trying to win over their parents.

I giggled. “Fiiiiine. Do your worst, Morrigan.”

She clapped, letting out a squeal. “Only my best for you, dear.”

An hour later my face was made up - lips painted a sultry red, kohl lightly lining my eyes, my eyelashes so thick that I likely could blink and blow half the estate away. One half of my hair fell over my shoulder in loose waves while the other was pinned back, accentuating my high cheek bones and pointed ears. A gorgeous blue dress that wasn’t too formal for dinner but was definitely a bit…. extra, fit me like an extra layer of skin. Fortunately, if I was overdressed, Mor would be too as she wore the same, only in red.

Gazing in the mirror I had to admit. I did look pretty damned beautiful. The dress hugged my curves perfectly, accentuating my feminine figure.

“Your boobs look AMAZING.” Mor shamelessly exclaimed as she smoothed out the front of her dress before looking down to admire her own cleavage.

“Says you” I smirked. “You look divine.”

“We are quite the double-threat.” She laughed. “Come on, let’s introduce you to the rest of the family and eat. I’m STARVING.”

“It hasn’t been that long since we ate!” I laughed.

“What’s that have to do with anything? Besides, the sooner we eat, the sooner we can break into the expensive wines.”

With that, she extended her arm and led me downstairs.

———————————-

Mor led me into a seating area where Nesta was sitting with a female who looked like a softer version of her. Not the High Lady, so this must be the third Archeron sister, Elain.

Mor’s demeanor shifted slightly as we entered the room, walking toward Nesta who looked up from her book to greet me “Hello, Y/N.”

I smiled. “Hello Nesta, I missed having our lesson together today. I’m rather eager to brush up on my ballroom dancing skills soon.”

The silver-eyed female smirked with a hint of amusement that only a trained eye could spot “It’s not you who needs the extra work, it’s the toe-stepper.”

I huffed a small laugh. Her and Mor were so different yet both felt like they could have been good friends in another life, had I been born into this circle.

I turned to the doe-eyed female next to her about to introduce myself when Azriel entered the room gaze fixed on Nesta. “It was one time! You two are never going to let that go, are you?”

Elain tensed as his gaze shifted to her from Nesta, he nodded his head in greeting before turning toward me.

When his eyes met mine, he froze, that intense hazel gaze sweeping from my head to my toes and back up again, twice. I could have sworn his gaze fixed on my chest for a moment before he met my eyes again. “You look…” he paused, then glanced slightly to the side, seemingly remembering who was in the room. “Nice.”

Mor scoffed. “Nice? I know you’re not a male of many words, Az, but nice? I’d go with ethereal, like a goddess, a deity.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing once Mor. “Nice.”

Azriel said nothing as Mor again took my arm, “Come on, Y/N, let’s go speak with people who will appreciate your naturally gorgeous features and my incredible skills in enhancing them.”

A part of me begged to feel disappointment in Azriel’s choice of words but, words meant so little when his eyes said so much. Perhaps he still had a relationship with Elain? Perhaps they didn’t have one but he didn’t want to hurt her? Perhaps he was completely indifferent and… ugh. Again, why does it matter? He’s a colleague and nothing more. He owes me nothing.

Mor and I entered the dining room to find Rhysand, “Rhys” as he told me to call him and the High Lady. “High Lady” I curtsied, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, officially.”

“Hello Y/N,” a soft smile graced her face, her gray-blue eyes fixed softly on me. “It’s nice to have you here. I do remember briefly seeing you during the encounter in the Summer Court but it’s nice to truly meet you.”

“Thank you, High Lady.”

A booming laugh echoed through the room as a broad, tall Illyrian male entered the space, taking up most of the large entryway. Cassian, I recalled. The general of the Night Court’s armies, the fearsome Lord of Bloodshed.

“High Lady? Since when does family dinner have such formality?”

He turned toward me with a wicked grin. “Hi, I’m Cassian. Just Cassian. And you must be my new favorite person - the one who hit Az with that baguette.”

I blushed, hiding a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Just Cassian. I’m Y/N.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up at his humor being met by my own cheesy attempt at a joke. “Az didn’t tell me you were so….” His cheeks puffed as he blew out air “So…” with both palms extended, he gestured to me in an up and downward motion. Clearly my figure was not lost on him. Under typical circumstances, this would have been awkward but I could sense that this was, well, just Cassian.

“Oh good gods.” Mor muttered. “You males are truly terrible at complimenting an attractive female.”

Rhys mocked offense, striding up to me only halting a step away. “Y/N, darling. You look exquisite.” then proceeded to take my hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

Feyre’s eyes lit up at the gesture, clearly adept at enduring her husband’s antics. “You really do look stunning, Y/N. And, as I would have told you before Cassian butt into our conversation, please just call me Feyre.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Truly.”

At that moment, a shadow-wraith with High Fae features entered the room holding a babbling and insanely adorable winged toddler. “Oh, the wraith said. I didn’t realize there was… company” she eyed me for a moment before returning her gaze toward Feyre, who only smiled and took the babe from her arms. “It’s okay Nuala, this is Y/N, she’s here for family dinner.”

Nuala’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?” Walking toward me in easy-graceful strides and a nod of her head. “It’s nice to meet you.” Her tone and expression kind with a hint of curiosity thrown in.

The lovely wraith skittered out of the room as a very petite fae entered the room with one hell of a commanding presence. Oh, I knew exactly who this was. The legendary “Amren”. Rhysand’s second in command. Gods, she was practically legendary - tales of her both horrifying and awe-inspiring. I bowed in reverence as she assessed me, sniffing the air. “Interesting.” She said flatly, more to herself than anyone else.

“That’s Amren.” Mor noted. “Don’t mind her. She’s likely hangry and in need of a nap.”

“Careful, girl.” Amren chided. “You aren’t far off from the truth. Do not test me.” Her lips curled into a slightly terrifying smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

An awkward silence momentarily filled the room before the toddler in Feyre’s arms noticed my presence, patting his mother’s shoulder before pointing a chubby finger at Mor and me. “Mama, mama! Look! Pretty!”

“Finally!” Mor praised. “A male that knows how to give a compliment. Thank you, Nyxie baby.”

—————————————

Dinner was spread out on the table before us leaving my mouth practically watering. Mor seated herself on my right, Feyre on my left at the head of the table with Nyx in a high chair beside her, and Rhys next to him. Azriel sat across from me avoiding eye contact. Though, I felt his burning gaze on me any time I turned to Mor or Feyre to speak. A small, traitorous part of me heated low in my belly knowing that he couldn’t resist sneaking glances in my direction.

Elain seated herself beside him in an awkward manner as it was the only remaining chair. Her body tense and avoiding any accidental brushes of their arms. I caught her looking at me a few times too, something like longing and contempt warring within her overall kind features. My gut churned at the tension, though nobody seemed to sense it.

A pang filled my chest at the sight of the High Lady at the head of the table and her mate, the High Lord next to her and their son, instead of the opposite end of the table. They were good parents, you could see the love they poured into Nyx overflowing out of him. My parents loved me that way too.

Chatter filled the table, Cassian’s boisterous laugh and risqué comments earning elbow nudges from Nesta to which he’d look at her with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. The fierce female warming beneath his stare.

I may not be a total romantic but my mind wandered. What would it be like to be loved like that? The way Rhys looked at Feyre and her at him, and the way Cassian and Nesta looked at each other. Mates. Something only the lucky few ever experienced.

“You’re being quiet, girl.” Amren accused. “Listening for information to sell to the highest bidder?”

“Amren.” Azriel warned.

“What?” The petite female added. “This is perfectly normal? For you to invite a stranger, one who is a known spy join us as if we’ve known and trusted her for centuries? Since when do you go to such great measures in seeking evening companionship.”

My jaw dropped at the same time Elain gasped at the statement.

“Enough, Amren.” Rhysand spoke. “She is my guest. I am the one who invited her.”

“A foolish decision.”

Darkness rolled off of Rhys, dimming the room. Feyre diverted Nyx’s attention to her with gentle coos.

I stood to excuse myself from the table, Azriel quickly standing to follow, but Rhys held a hand toward him. “Excuse us, Y/N. I believe we need to have a family discussion on manners. Azriel, stay seated. Elain, perhaps you could show Y/N the garden.”

Mor started “That’s not necessary, I can -“

“You will stay here too, Mor.” Rhys demanded.

Elain slowly, begrudgingly stood up from the table, walking past me with a whispered “follow me.”

——————————————-

Tags: @fxckmiup @saltedcoffeescotch @minnieoo

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fieldofdaisiies · 4 months

Text

Strokes of Fate | pt. 1

paring: Feyre x Rhysand | type: angst | words: 3,4k words | warnings: none | masterlist

"You see what the painting looks like, right?" Rhys huffs loudly, flashing his best friends an incredulous look over his shoulder. The CEO's stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands in the pockets of his pants, shoulders slightly slouched, expression incredulous.

Rain drops cascade down the glass, the coming storm mirroring the whirlwind brewing inside of him. The painting was a present, but—

"It reminds me of a pile of trash," Cassian, his best friend, hollers and tilts his head to the side to examine the painting again. His eyes narrow and he brings up a hand, folding three fingers over his mouth.

"It could also be two plastic bags…filled with trash," Azriel adds, fighting the urge to laugh.

Rhysand flips both of them off when he finally fully turns to them. "Idiots," he grumbles but when his eyes land upon the painting he has to agree with their descriptions. The figures on the painting could truly be mistaken for trash. He has absolutely no idea what the three objects should even display, but he truly hopes his friend didn't try to paint him, Az and Cass and rather aimed for something abstract.

Cassian lounges comfortably on the plush couch, legs crossed at the ankles, Azriel next to him in an armchair, both chuckling at the awfulness that graces the wall behind Rhysand's desk.

"You know, I truly appreciate all kind of art, " Rhysand says, turning slightly to look at the painting once again, then back to his friends. His voice carries a tone of bemusement, tinged with a hint of annoyance. "But this... piece of art looks like someone let loose a child with a crayon and then called it a masterpiece."

Cassian chuckles, the sound a welcome relief in the otherwise gloomy atmosphere. "Well, she isn't the tallest…one could sometimes mistake her for a child. I am sure her pants are child-sized."

Azriel cackles, but the CEO only rolls his eyes at his two idiotic friends.

"What do I do now?" Rhysand turns away from them again, looking at the rain-covered window once more. "How do I get rid of it? And how do I get a good painting for my office instead?"

"What? You don't like the painting Amren made for you?" Morrigan, his cousin, appears on the threshold, red heels eliciting a clicking sound with every step she takes into the office. "I warned you about her artistic talent, but you wouldn't listen."

If someone looked close enough they would have seen that Azriel's breath caught for a small second, a flicker of a moment, but the man quickly turns his attention back to Rhys, waiting for him to answer.

The blond female tosses a pile of papers onto her cousin's desk and grins at him. "It truly looks like a tornado broke loose and whooshed all over the canvas."

"That's also a great description," Cassian quips, air-high-fiving Morrigan who winks at him.

"You need to give her more work to do. She has too much free time and gets bored easily. I am scared she picks up knitting —or worse sewing— next and makes clothes for all of us."

Rhysand throws his cousin a look over his shoulder that speaks volumes. "She has enough work to do…but I assume she gets bored when she is done working, Maybe you should spend more time with her." A gleeful smile graces his handsome face and now Morrigan is the one to flip him off.

"I live with her, Rhys, I already spend all my time with her." Lifting one hand, the female brushes a strand of blond hair over her shoulder, braces her other hand on her hip and then turns to the other two men. She gives them a once over, thinking, and then turns back to Rhys. "I might know someone who could help you."

But Rhysand doesn't deign her a look anymore, eyes focused on a distant point outside. His gaze wanders beyond the droplets, into the city itself. Not much can be seen from up here, but movement still catches his eye.

"She's wonderful, just finished her degree, aiming to become a big artist. She is not new to the branch and has lot of talent, her pieces are wonderful, almost outstanding, and—"

"I doubt she can create a painting for my office. She's probably a street artist doing portraits of people who pass by. I need a real artist. A good one."

"Like Amren," Azriel throws in and earns himself a round of laughter. Not from Rhys. He isn't laughing, his face stays stern, annoyed. "Very funny," he comments.

"You are impossible!" Mor huffs dramatically. "She is amazing, Rhys," she insists, "not a street artist, well she might be now, but she will be great and well-known in a few years. She has a certain way with the brush, creating magnificent pieces of—"

"Alright, invite her here and we will see about it." Rhys leans forward, eyes furrowed, transfixed on a female figure rushing through the rain towards a narrow alley. It's a deadlock and someone—

"She can't be worse than Amren, can she?" he mumbles, suddenly very unfocused on the conversation.

Someone is following the female figure outside. The rain distorts his sight, his office, elevated and the city below shrouded in darkness, adds to the difficulty of seeing the scene properly. And even though, he doesn't know the figure outside a feeling of unease fills his entire being. It's like an unfamiliar sensation he can't shake off, a pit of unease forming in his stomach.

"You are rude, Rhys," his cousin comments, but he ignores her.

All his attention is on the rushing female outside. And the men following her.

She darts into the alley, disappearing momentarily from view. Rhys's mind races, assessing the situation, the potential risks. His heartbeat quickens, and he himself is surprised about this reaction.

The city outside his window is drenched in rain, no people are around who can help her.

His gaze moves to the watch on his wrist - 7:07. It is already dark outside, one of the wonders of autumn.

He hesitates for a moment, torn between staying in the warm confines of his office and the prospect of later climbing into his car, now parked in the carpark of his company, and then safely and soundly driving home, or—

Something about the situation gnaws at him, urging him to take action, urging him to move.

He turns from the window, quickly, and with a swift movement, grabs his coat. "One second," he tells his best friends, his cousin, not giving them room to ask for where he is going.

He dashes out of his office, ditching the elevator that would take too long to arrive, taking the stairs instead, two steps at a time.

Outside, the rain pours down on him, soaking through his clothes within seconds. But he covers his face with his hand, shielding his vision from the rain. Rhys hurdles towards the alleyway, his heart pounding in his chest, rapidly.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"You know how he is." Feyre slumps against the door with a loud and terribly annoyed sigh. "He won't ever let go. He is so persistent and he can't accept that I moved on."

"Classic Tamlin, I would say," Ressian chuckles and tosses her damp brush, the one she had just washed out and cleaned of colour, at Feyre. "I never understood why you got with him in the first place. He always seemed a little…strange." Ressina presses her lips in a thin line, watching Feyre closely.

Feyre shrugs a shoulder, after having casually dodged the brush that came flying at her. "He was nice at the beginning," she says matter-of-factly.

Ressian fights the urge to roll her eyes because she never liked Tamlin that much.

Feyre shrugs again. "Whatever, I'll juts turn my phone off until tomorrow morning…maybe he'll get the memo. "Grabbing her bag, Feyre swings it over her shoulder, then shoves her phone into the outer pocket and grabs her pencil case (the one that does not fit into the bag) and a few spare sketch books (that also don't fit into her bag).

But Ressina stops her, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare turn off your phone until you are home! It's dark outside already. New York City is dangerous, baby."

"Danger means nothing to me," Feyre says with a chuckle, but there is gratitude in her eyes.

Ressina cares about her, and the young artist knows this. She will keep her phone on, and also close to her so in case of an emergency she can reach for it. But she doubts she will need it. She has walked the way home to her flat many times - also at night.

A frown appears on her friend's face and she lifts her hand, to show Feyre a vulgar gesture for so bluntly ignoring her worry.

"I will be safe, Sina. Thank you for caring and worrying about me." Feyre smiles. And reluctantly, Ressian returns the smile. "That's what friends are for, right?" She grabs her own coat of the hanger. "Text me when you get home, so I can sleep in peace."

Feyre bows her head and with her heart warming at the wonderful friend she has found leaves the studio.

The art gallery's doors close behind her with a creak, and the young artist is immediately enveloped in the damp, and cool evening air of New York City. Cars honk everywhere, streetlights draw shadows across the large building and despite the smell of fuel in the air, Feyre draws in a deep inhale.

The rain leaves a soft sheen of water on the streets and Feyre groans audibly - she is wearing her new Converse after all and they are not made for wet streets. The weather forecast didn't tell her about rain, but then…she hadn't checked it so she couldn't have known.

It is just bad luck, she concludes. Just like her failed relationship with Tamlin, heir to the Springer company and now her ex-boyfriend. That was also a whole lot of bad luck.

Feyre, holding her sketchbooks as tightly and closely as possible, hoping to shield them from the drizzle, takes one small step after the other, her feet still somehow walking fast.

Her hair is dampened by the rain, and she clutches the sketchbooks even tighter when a car drives past her. She hurries through the dimly lit alleys, her shoes sounding against the wet pavement.

She just wants to get home. As quick as possible. And…only to go out again.

She has to go out again later. She needs to get groceries. For her ill father. And probably also Elain, her older sister, who looks after their father. With Nesta at the dance academy four hours away, the two of them are left with dealing with their ill father. Feyre is incredibly happy that Elain does all the taking care of him, and she only has to go shopping for their food, but right now she just wants to fall into bed and zone out for the day. The day has been stressful enough.

"No way," Feyre huffs under her breath when she feels how the rain intensifies, tiny droplets falling onto her head and running down her face. She pulls her coat tighter, over her sketchbooks, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air.

The sounds of shuffling from other pedestrians heading to their homes or wherever they are going, is only interrupted by her ragged breaths and the occasional honk of a car. Soon, Feyre thinks. Soon I am in my home. And soon I will leave it again…What a mess.

She doesn't allow herself to think further about it. To think about leaving her cosy home again.

The rain-slicked streets of New York reflect the glow of the city and under different circumstances Feyre would marvel at them, try to remember them so she could paint them later. Not today. Not when the sky is emptying itself on top of her. She hurries along, her steps quickening with every passing block. Her arms strain under the weight of all her stuff, hoping not too much water will get on it. But since the raindrops already soak through her coat, her hope that her sketches will be safe is slowly fading.

Out of the blue, Feyre catches movement in the corner of her eye. It is different to the other people passing by (the few who also have no other choice than walking in the rain) or the cars driving by.

A prickling sensation skitters down her spine, her instincts suddenly on high alert. Something is amiss.

Brave as she is, Feyre casts a glance over her shoulder, squinting through the watery veil that restricts her vision. Her breath catches in her throat - amidst the raindrops she makes out three shadowy figures. They are too close and don't look like they mean well.

Her heart beats faster, the rush of blood pounding in her ears louder than the drumming rain. But her vision doesn't fool her. She can see what is behind her: three men. And they are coming her way.

Panic surges within her, and she forces herself to move faster, the urgency to escape propelling her over the sidewalk, away from the danger. She quickens her pace, the echoes of her steps ricocheting off the walls of the looming buildings.

But the men stay behind her, close to her. They’re gaining on her. She doesn't even allow herself to think about what they could possibly want from her.

Everything about this situation is unnerving. These men following her. And running in the rain - she has to be careful, she can't be too fast, it could be dangerous. She doesn't see quite well with the sheet of rain covering her vision. She might collide with something which would not be beneficial for her escape either.

And then. "Fuck!" Feyre shudders. The alleyway ahead is a dead end.

She halts, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with terror as the footsteps behind her draw nearer. Her thoughts race, heart beating in her throat. She clutches her things tightly, fighting the urge to scream. It would be useless anyway. No one would hear her. And even if someone did, she doubts anyone would help. That's how people are, she has come to learn.

Three figures emerge from the mist, bodies and faces drenched in rain.

"Stay away from me!" Feyre snaps, her voice not half as steady and strong as she hoped it would be.

They ignore her. “If you have any money on you, hand it over,” one of them demands.

She trembles, her breath hitching. She would give them all her money only for them to leave her alone. With trembling hands, she moves her stuff under her arm, trying to open her bag and fish for her purse.

The rain continues to fall, getting stronger by the minute, drowning out all the other noises. She occasionally lifts her gaze, making sure they don't move closer.

"Faster!" one man shouts. "Or should we make you?" He looks almost nervous.

Feyre's heart is racing. She can't find her purse. She simply can't find. Did she forget it in the studio? It wouldn't be the first time. They ordered food and—

Panic gnaws on her, terror making the contents of her stomach sour. She has no idea what these men are capable of. How much they need the money. To what lengths they would go to get it. The damn purse must be somewhere, Feyre thinks, but it—

"There you are. I've been looking for you." The sudden, deep, sensual male voice startles her. She whips her head up, blinking her eyes rapidly against the rain wetting her face.

A tall man, drenched in rain, steps out of the shadows of the entry to the alley, having surprised not only Feyre but also the three men. "I hope these men are not causing you any trouble, my darling?"

He casually moves past the men, the downpour of rain drenching him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He slips a casual arm around her shoulders and even through the rain Feyre can see how the three men pale.

"I was waiting for you at the car." He turns his attention to the men then. "Thank you for finding her for me," her saviour says to them, smooth and polished. "I mean, that is what you have been doing right?" His voice is so terribly calm. "You may leave now, unless there's anything you want to say."

There is enough of a bite in his last words that the men stiffen.

Silent threats, Feyre thinks, the worst kind of threats. But the men are foolish, don't leave straight away and suddenly the anger is not so silent anymore.

"Get out of here! Now. And if one of you ever dares to follow and scare my wife ever again, I will personally send you to hell."

Without further comment, they scuttle back into the rain, outside the alley.

Feyre, her heart pounding against her ribcage, steps out of the shelter of her saviour's arm and turns to thank him, but she stops dead in her tracks.

Standing before her the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. "Are you alright?" he asks, voice much softer now. Gentler.

He brushes his broad hand over his head, smoothing his wet strands of hair out of his face.

Feyre is too stunned to speak. Too shocked about the situation. Too careful to yet fully trust the man. Her saviour.

"I—I." Feyre struggles to find her voice. Normally men don’t evoke this sort of reaction in her, but his presence, what he has done for her, and his scent of sea salt and citrus that even reaches her through the rain, render her speechless.

"I—"

She is about to open her mouth to thank him when he beats her to it. "You're welcome," he says. "For saving you."

Saviour or not, she bristles at his arrogance and retreats another step. Tendrils of breath are visible in front of her face when she clears her throat. "I was about to thank you."

The man inclines his head, a small smile on his in raindrops-covered face. "Allow me to give you a ride home."

"Thank you but no." Feyre grabs her things tighter and makes to move past him. She wants to go home now. She only wants to fall into her bed. This days has been too much. He saved her, and she is grateful, but their ways are parting here.

"Please, allow me to take you home. Just a ride, I don’t expect anything—"

"Oh, I will hope so. I should have known that you are just like every men. Pretty face, old money clothes, and—whatever." If she had a free hand she would wave him off. Her words don't even make sense, but probably he just like any other man. Now offering to take her home and when they arrive at her place he expects her to take him upstairs and thank him for saving her.

She shoves past him. "Thank you, really, but I am a big girl, I can take care of myself. Good night, stranger."

It’s not in her nature to be mean, but the day has drained her. She is not in the mood to talk to him any longer. Yes, he saved her and with his violet eyes and the dark hair, he is very easy on the eyes. But Feyre is not in the mood. To talk. To have him drive her home. To spend time with a man. She is tired of men. Especially after her last relationship.

She wants to sleep and that is it. And that is the only thing she wants to do this evening. No talking. No thinking. No being in a stranger's car. She only wants to be in her bed, warm and cosy.

She doesn’t even give the stranger a chance to ask her again, the last please muffled due to the heavy rain, the next one not audible any more because she is already out of ear-shot, heart still racing inside her chest.

tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop@honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone

#feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acosf #feysand au

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witch-and-her-witcher · 2 months

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nessriel | E | hurt/comfort, modern AU - magic/CC inspired

Aux officer Cassian brings a stray home with him and he doesn't want to let her go. Lieutenant Azriel, and his life partner, thinks he has a bleeding heart and an undiagnosed mental health condition - until he meets Nesta Archeron for himself, sweating and vomiting through a self-led alcohol detox, and decides ... yeah, they should keep her. Nesta is at an all-time low, all her bridges burned, but she's going to pull herself together and try to keep her mess from spilling into these ridiculously gorgeous, kind-hearted Auxie's lives.

ao3

(Thank you @popjunkie42 and @thesistersarcheron for the support read throughs!)

For Day One: Beginnings of @polyacotarweek!

Chapters 1-3/9

Preview Below

~*~

Everything fucking hurts: Cassian’s knees are jammed up, his spine crackles along each vertebra, his balls feel like tenderized meat, and his godsdamn shoulder. Ripped out of the socket by a feral leopard shifter, high on pixie dust.

As if the hit that knocked him off of his feet wasn’t bad enough, the amount of paperwork he’d had to fill out because of the right hook he’d landed out of self-defense driven instinct afterwards was even more painful.

Cassian can feel the impact from his wing meeting with the concrete just as much as the strain in his neck from standing bent over the counter at the Aux.

Like the asshole knew how low tech they are.

“Mother fucker,” he mutters, slamming the unit door shut behind him.

He waits to hear the double beep of the lock before shoving the keys in his black jean’s front pocket and shuffling for the stairs to his apartment.

All Cassian wants is to get out of this fucking oppressive bullet-proof vest, kick off his boots, strip off his pants and sprawl on the couch with one hand down the front of his briefs and the other holding a cold beer. Put a game on. Maybe mess around with Az by sending him some dirty pictures.

An image of high cheekbones splattered with a dark flush, hot to the touch, flashes in his mind. Pupils blown wide and hand covering that seductive mouth to hide embarrassment.

Yeah, thinking about the pretty blush that will spread over his partner’s face? The way Az will jerk his head up to make sure no one saw … and then sneak another peek, maybe find an unoccupied room that doesn’t have cameras in it for some privacy?

Cassian grins wickedly.

He will definitely send dirty pictures.

Maybe after a beer or two, his shoulder won’t hurt so bad either and he can send a video tease. Get Az all worked up so he comes home in the morning ravenous, like a male possessed, ready to put Cass in his place for winding him up so tight —

A loud clatter right as Cassian rounds the stairwell to head up to the second floor cuts off his train of thought.

Engrained Aux training makes him hesitate.

Voices rise up behind the closest door.

Shit.

Apartment 132. A real sleazebag.

“— I’m a dirty whore? Yeah? Have you seen your fucking bed sheets?” A female’s voice becomes clear, growing louder along with heavy, slightly muffled footsteps on a carpeted floor. Drawing closer. “Learn how to do the laundry, you infantile asshole!”

The doorknob jiggles a few times along with a few incoherent curses before the door is wrenched open. Unsure what kind of scene is about to spill into the bottom floor of his apartment complex, Cassian holds still aside from his hand edging closer to his holster.

The female has her back to him, still yelling into the apartment with her middle finger in the air. “Your cleaning skills match the size of your cock, unsatisfact- ow!”

Cassian is braced for the collision course, but the female hasn’t been paying attention to anything but lobbing insults at the vampire arguing back half-heartedly from somewhere deeper in the apartment. She jumps as her bare shoulders connect with the kevlar covered metal plate on Cassian’s chest.

She whips around, hellfire seething from her. “Watch where the fuck you’re —”

The words die on her lips as she cranks her head up: taking in the uniform, the badge, the fucking Aux uniform aviator sunglasses perched on the bridge of Cass’s crooked nose.

With his polished talons gleaming two feet higher than his nearly six-and-a-half-foot height, he knows he looks intimidating as hell.

Her gaze lingers on the breadth of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps under his shirt sleeves, the thick column of his neck.

Cassian also knows he looks fit as hell.

“Shit,” she curses, but it’s breathy enough to sound unintentional.

The vampire is quicker than a whip, tossing a purse onto the concrete and slamming his door shut. The contents spill out of the purse because he hasn’t bothered to close it: chapstick, a pack of gum, various IDs and brightly packaged condoms ‘ribbed for her pleasure.’

Sleazebag.

The purple-colored veteran Aux ID in the discarded pile catches his attention, but Cassian doesn't give away his recognition.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks, cocking one brow up.

The hallway is open-air, but it does nothing to reduce the scent of chain-smoked cigarettes and strong alcohol coming off of the female.

The drop-dead gorgeous female.

#poly+acotarweek2024 #nessriel #cazriel #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing #nesta x cassian x azriel

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rosanna-writer · 2 months

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a simple name and everything has changed (3/?)

Summary: we said hello and your eyes look like coming home, Rhys POV chapters Or: Rhys's slow realization that he's mated to Prythian's most chaotic human (and how much he loves her for it) Warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault, discussion of food insecurity and disordered eating Word Count: ~3.5k

This is Rhys's POV of ch. 19 - your mom's ring in your pocket, which is the initial discussion of the ring and the Weaver's cottage.

You can find it Here on AO3 or below the readmore.

It was a small miracle that I managed to read Azriel's entire report with Feyre standing so close to my wings. More than anything, I wanted her hands on them again. But for now, I was content with just the easy, comfortable way she rested her free hand on my shoulder. A small thing, perhaps, but Under the Mountain, it had been beyond my wildest dreams.

She was also peppering me with questions, and after she'd been deceived by Tamlin, it was clearly important to her that I answered all of them completely. So I did. The lack of information Azriel had been able to dig up worried me, and I didn't hide that from her, either.

Amren arrived shortly after that, and the size of her stack of books seemed…promising. Azriel might have run into dead ends, but I hoped he was only one at least.

"Research. As requested before you leave for Illyria, Rhysand," she said, dropping everything on the table.

Unsurprisingly, Feyre responded quicker than I did. "Research on what?"

"On you, girl. And whatever power has been thrumming in your veins since you were Made."

Feyre knocked back the last of her tea as if it were a shot of alcohol. If she were wishing she'd had something stronger before dealing with Amren first thing in the morning, I didn't blame her in the slightest.

"And I assume you found something, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," I said.

"I have theories, but books aren't enough to prove anything—we'll have to run tests."

I let my hand drift to Feyre's lower back. The thought of running tests on my mate rankled me, and I forced myself not to snarl, lest my Second bit my head off in retaliation.

"We don't have time for dramatics today. Please explain."

"Feyre has been claimed by the Night Court, and she's mated to its High Lord. It stands to reason that she's a creature of Night. But at the same time, her Making was a boon from Spring Court magic after taking Tamlin's place in the Great Rite. She may be…something else entirely."

The same thing had crossed my mind before, on nights I tried to focus on the sound of Feyre's slow, steady breathing across the hall instead of my own spiraling thoughts. I'd found my mate in the very court that had taken my family from me, and that didn't feel like a coincidence.

The violence should have ended the moment Tamlin and I became High Lords. But now, my newest recurring nightmare was of a third head in a box, sent down river by the Spring Court just like my mother's and sister's.

"If Tamlin thinks I stole power from him and swore fealty to Rhys on Calanmai…" Feyre said, and at the sound of her voicing my fears aloud, I couldn't hold back a growl.

Amren nodded, a quiet signal that she understood that the growl wasn't aimed at her. "Agreed, and because treasure troves with objects from both Spring and Night are few and far between, it's time to stop stalling. You have a promise to keep."

Perhaps I should have growled at her anyway—I needed at least another century before I could look Feyre in the eye and tell her about the ring waiting for her in the Weaver's cottage. She'd risked her life to free me, and I was certain that if I came anywhere close to insinuating she still had something to prove, she'd have my balls. And rightfully so.

Just the thought of telling her was enough to loosen my grip on my power, and pathetically, the darkness drifted towards Feyre, clinging to her arm as if it were afraid she'd leave.

"Find another method," I ground out from between clenched teeth.

"Feyre has to go claim it anyway."

"She's already proven more than enough."

"Spare me, Rhysand. We all know what you were thinking when you put that bargain tattoo on her finger."

Amren was right, though. The look she was giving me was familiar—I'd gotten used to it when I was a boy still mastering my powers and she was tired of me giving anything less than my best during a lesson.

"Tell me what you're talking about this before this comes to blows." Feyre shrugged my hand off her back, and I slid it into my pocket before I made a bigger fool of myself and reached for her again.

It truly wasn't fair that Feyre looked that beautiful when she was angry.

Amren, of course, wasn't going to deign to provide an explanation. It wasn't her business anyway. I took a breath and steeled myself, fully expecting the full truth would fan the flames of Feyre's temper.

"There's a ring," I said. "An heirloom of my family, passed down from female to female. My sister wasn't born yet, so my mother gave it to me when I was a boy. A reminder that she was always with me, even during the worst of my training, and I safeguarded it with preserving spells, the way our kind do for anything valuable. When I reached my majority, she took the ring away and gave it to an ancient, wicked creature called the Weaver, who added it to the collection of treasures she amassed over millennia."

It wasn't everything, and Feyre was smart enough to figure that out on her own. "Why would your mother give it away?"

Gods, I could kill Amren for this. She pretended to be above it all, but I knew during her next meeting with Mor, she'd be sharing every last detail of me squirming.

"Another test. If I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get the ring back. And if she wasn’t either of those things, then she wouldn’t survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have to pass, but I think if she were still here…she'd agree that you've already done more than enough."

I waited for more of Feyre's anger, but she just blinked, clearly bewildered. "A wedding ring?" she said, as if it weren't patently obvious.

"Yes, but you're under no obligation to—"

When she spoke again, the uncertainty making her voice waver damn near broke my heart. "You— You haven't…sent someone after it before me, have you?"

As if anyone would have been stupid enough to want to marry me. I couldn't imagine what could have put the idea in her head.

But then again, I'd been the one who'd made her feel unwanted enough to run off to the House of Wind as soon as we'd returned to the Night Court.

"Cauldron, no," I said, scrambling for a way to remind her—in front of Amren, of all people—that there had never been anyone else for me and never would be.

"And this isn't— You're not…proposing?"

Cauldron boil and fucking fry me. Now was hardly the time to be having this discussion—I had no idea what Feyre's views on marriage were or if the mating bond changed them. She'd always be my mate first and foremost, but…I couldn't deny the appeal of calling her my wife too, and she might be more comfortable with a more human way to refer to me.

But it was just as likely she was feeling rushed and didn't want any of that at all.

A pounding at the door heralded the arrival of the rest of my Inner Circle, and I made a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as we filed into the sitting room. I hadn't been able to think of anything to say, and they'd saved me from continuing to gape at Feyre like a fish.

Feyre went quiet as the conversation turned to dealing with the Illyrians who'd supported Amarantha. From Cassian's report, it seemed that there were more than I'd expected, but news of my return had sent them scurrying into the forest to hide. We'd have to flush them out.

I didn't relish the thought of several days in the Steppes, away from Feyre. But I knew the Illyrians, and I'd lose more respect by staying in Velaris and sending someone else to do my dirty work. Then again, it might be for the best—I wasn't sure I wanted Feyre to witness me kill again, no matter how much they deserved it.

Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and Feyre filled it. "If we need to make a statement to keep control of Illyria, then we could give them to the Weaver and kill two birds with stone."

If Feyre wasn't exactly the sort of person who might have once felled two birds with a single stone, I would have thought she was joking. But I knew better. Feyre didn't like waste, whether that was food scraps or ammunition or a taking a life; she was merely efficient and the farthest thing from squeamish.

Strong enough to survive the marriage indeed.

"Are you suggesting that we allow a death-god to eat a few rogue Illyrians in exchange for the return of your wedding ring?" I said, smiling.

Feyre didn't smile back—her face was set in that characteristic determined grimace of hers. "Amarantha refused to free her human slaves. I'm the Night Court's resident human. What better way to punish them for supporting her than turning them over to me?"

She had a point, and the rest of the Inner Circle seemed to think so, which was a relief. If Feyre were to accompany us to Illyria, I wanted to avoid objections from Cassian and Azriel.

"If we're cracking a few wing bones, Feyre might as well get a turn," Cassian said.

"It's Illyria, not Velaris, so word will get out, which we can spin in our favor. Distaste for slavery instead of petty revenge against those who supported the bitch who made Rhys her—" Mor said, then stopped.

Whore. That had been what she'd about to say. I should have been used to it after fifty years, and it wasn't as if Mor was flinging it at me as an insult. My cheeks burned with shame anyway.

"The bitch who hurt him," Mor amended, and somehow, it made me feel worse. I hated the thought of any member of my family feeling the need to tiptoe around me.

"I'll never be offended by you telling the truth. Even about that," I said. Mor took my hand and squeezed it.

"No one reasonable would fault you for slaughtering your rapist's supporters. But for the unreasonable ones…it's also true that involving Feyre could help dispel the rumors that Prythian's savior is a pawn you intend to discard."

I understood—for the most part, the other courts were more concerned with rebuilding the damage that Amarantha had caused, and they likely would be for decades. But as Mor had worked to put treaties and agreements back in place, there had been more than a few polite—if very pointed—inquiries regarding the wellbeing of Feyre Cursebreaker. For now, Mor's letters back had contained equally pointed reminders that the Cursebreaker had been through an ordeal and didn't deserve to be bothered. We couldn't keep that up forever, though.

"Assuming the Weaver is willing to bargain, it's not a bad plan," Azriel said. From him, that was a ringing endorsement.

"Hell of an assumption, though," Cassian added.

Feyre was looking at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to weigh in. I was suddenly uncomfortably aware that I had the authority to order her to either come to Illyria or stay back in Velaris, regardless of what her wishes were. I considered Feyre my equal in everything, but there were ancient laws and magic at play. Emissary or Lady of the Night Court…either way, her power was limited.

If nothing else, I wanted her to know that I wouldn't command her to face any danger. I had the bravest mate in Prythian, but Feyre deserved a chance to rest instead of shouldering the weight of the world. "All of it is your choice, Feyre. If you don't want to risk leaving Velaris, no one will force you," I said.

"I'm not shying away from any of it. I'll go," she said without hesitation.

Nothing stopped Feyre. I dropped my shields just enough to let her feel my swell of pride at her willingness to face this head on, even after everything she'd been through.

Cassian mussed her hair, and a memory came to me, unbidden—he used to do the same thing to Azriel, back before the War, when Az was still sporting those hideous bangs that swooped low across his forehead. And they way Feyre was trying and failing to scowl at Cassian…my heart squeezed. My own sister had always given me that look when I'd gotten on her nerves to break up the monotony of formal court events.

"Send your mate and your dogs out to the yard if they insist on playing, Rhysand. The adults still have matters to discuss," Amren said.

"Amren, if you wanted to play—" Cassian said, taunting her the way he always did when she called him my dog.

And as if on cue, Mor groaned. "Can we not? We're supposed to be working."

Under the Mountain, I'd resigned myself to never hearing them bicker like this again. After a decade, I'd forgotten their voices, their faces. That's when I'd stopped hoping.

Hearing it again while I shared the sofa with Feyre…it felt like a gift. She caught my eye as Cassian smoothed her hair back into place, and I smiled, just grateful for all of them.

But I could hardly afford to get maudlin with a court to run and Prythian in disarray, so I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

The meeting was a long one; I trusted Mor and Amren to keep everything running smoothly in my absence, but there was so much more up in the air than usual. Unfortunately, they'd likely be at it for a while—according to Cassian's reporting, the rogue war-bands had scattered, and it would take time to track down each group that had splintered.

There was work to be done, so none of us lingered longer than necessary. We were up before the sun the next morning.

As I was washing my face, I felt a pang of anxiety from Feyre's side of the bond. A few disjointed images and feelings crossed the bond—a tree covered in snow, the twang of a bowstring, hunger pangs. It vanished as quickly as it came.

Something had stirred an old memory for her, I supposed. But it seemed she'd mastered it, so I refrained from giving her a fright by winnowing into her room while she was still dressing.

Instead, I met her downstairs and immediately lifted her into my arms to fly. Feyre felt like she'd gained a bit of weight, which was good. The tangible evidence she'd been eating right and gaining muscle from training soothed some of my worries.

I started to ask if she was alright, but the second her feet were off the floor, she relaxed and buried her face in my shoulder. I couldn't help but smile. Since returning home, I'd quickly learned that she wasn't a morning person, and there was something adorably Feyre about the way she'd clearly decided it was too early to talk—but not too early to cling to me.

"Good morning to you, too," I said.

"We have somewhere to be," she said, somehow managing to sound both half-asleep and accusatory.

I kissed her temple, then winnowed us into the sky above Windhaven. The immediate cold rush of air against my face felt like freedom. Feyre—now fully awake—cried out and held on tight as I spread my wings.

My shoulders immediately barked in protest, even though all I'd done was slow the descent. Feyre wasn't particularly heavy, but I still wasn't strong enough to fly upward while carrying her—the latest goal the healer had set for me was getting above the wards around the House of Wind to winnow down to the street with Feyre in my arms.

But now we were gliding to the ground smoothly, and that was progress. Incremental, but still progress, even if my back strained with each occasional flap of my wings.

Fearless as ever, Feyre lifted her head from my shoulder to look straight down at the camp below us, despite the altitude still being enough to turn the stomach of anyone wingless. I expected more questions, but she was silent as she took in the view.

From the air at least, it didn't appear that Windhaven had changed much. Amarantha had mostly considered Illyria beneath her notice, and while her beasts had been free to roam into Steppes, they'd avoided it. Too few resources, too many warriors with killing magic.

Thanks to Cassian's reports, I knew Illyria was more or less intact, but it was still a relief to see it for myself. In those last seconds before Amarantha had taken my power, I'd chosen to protect Velaris, throwing the rest of my court to the wolves in the process. It was sound strategy—if anyone could defend themselves, it was the Illyrians, and there wasn't much worth saving in the Hewn City—but not being able to protect everything had left me with a heavy sense of guilt that had weighed on me for fifty years.

During the war, my father had treated my mother's people as cannon fodder. Perhaps I wasn't any better, despite striving to be.

It took all of my concentration to keep from stumbling as we landed. Centuries of muscle memory were the only reason I didn't break an ankle and drop Feyre in the process. But it looked effortless, and that was most important.

I set Feyre down, and—as usual—she slipped into a role naturally, standing up straight and maintaining eye contact, a clear signal she wasn't afraid. That she wasn't lesser.

Devlon approached, flanked by the same warriors as always, and for a moment, I could almost believe no time had passed since I'd last been here. "Your dog," he barked with a nod at Cassian, "already completed camp inspections yesterday. Don't tell me you've brought a human to check for dust in the barracks, too."

I bit back a growl at the way he'd spoken about Feyre. Starting a fight within seconds of my return hardly sent a message that everything was under control. If it weren't for centuries of practice holding my temper back around Devlon, his brain would have been leaking out of his nose.

"After fifty years away, it's good to see your sparkle hasn't dimmed, Devlon. Feyre Cursebreaker is a member of my Inner Circle, and she wouldn't be here to clean up a mess if you'd kept a tighter leash on your men," I said.

And perhaps crushing minds would be unnecessary—Feyre was already reaching for an ash arrow. I'd never seen her shoot, but it didn't surprise me that she pulled it out of the quiver with expert, lethal grace. She knew exactly what she was doing as she smiled and tapped it against her thigh.

Devlon scowled. "These last fifty years have been difficult for us all."

It was all I needed to hear to be sure that he'd keep Windhaven in check while we were in the forest. Devlon might have hated me, but he was reliable and followed orders despite looking for loopholes and grumbling about it. If he wasn't insulting me to my face, the situation was still salvagable.

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses. The current state of your camp is pathetic, and if I see one more misstep, you can consider yourself court-martialed," I said, then started off for the trees.

I was desperately curious to know what Feyre thought of Illyria. Growing up in this place had shaped me—in many ways, even more than Velaris had—and the part of me that craved my mate's approval needed to hear that she didn't hate it here.

I reached down the bond, intending to ask her, but as I opened my shields slightly, a silver of a thought slipped through from her end. …Rhys's stupidly long legs…

It was a miracle I didn't laugh aloud, just kept my face blank as I reached through the opening she'd left for me. Stupidly long legs? But you look so delicious framed between them.

"Save it for when we're back home, Rhys," Feyre muttered.

Behind me, Azriel snickered, but I didn't have it in me to care, not when Feyre had just called Velaris home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her nock the arrow in her hand. Even to acute faerie hearing, her footsteps were silent. Her eyes were wary as she scanned the trees ahead of us, and her nostrils flared as she took in the pine-scented air.

A couple weeks of comfortable domesticity with her in the townhouse had nearly made me forget that Feyre was, at her core, a predator. Not quite a warrior, but someone shaped by years of stalking, trapping, skinning, and gutting, all to keep her family fed. Someone who slipped through the forest with all the lethality befitting the Queen of Nightmares.

I'd watched Feyre trap the Middengard Wyrm like a rabbit, but perhaps that had barely scratched the surface.

#feysand #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home #a simple name and everything has changed #he really went through the FULL SPECTRUM OF EMOTIONS here

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redheadspark · 1 year

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Hello love! Could I request an Azriel fic with #1? I feel like it would be really wholesome! 🌹💜

A/N - AAHHHH! This is adorable! Simply adorable! Thank you for requesting this, friend!

Crown

Summary - It's the simple things in life that bring out Azriel's joy

Warnings - Just some cute fluff :D

"This is quite the collection, High Lady,"

"I know, I hate it! Oh, please don't tell Rhsyand anything, it'll break his heart!"

"Your secret is safe with me,"

Feyre giggled as you two strolled through her smaller chamber that housed all of the crowns, tiaras, and other jewelry that was given to her by her husband, High Lord Rhsyand. She was searching some of the jewelry she wished to keep and other pices that she could donate, and the rest will be in the Night Court Archives that were nestled deep under The House of Wind. Rhysand gave her permission to choose which ones she wanted to keep for her own use and the rest will be sorted, which was rather nice on his end some most of the pieces were handed down to him by his family. Feyre was no lover of jewelry, and even with the smallest earrings or necklace, she would rather decline wearing them. However, she was strickign when wearing her crowns or tiaras when meetings were held or visiting anoter Court.

Yet she was showing you this room for another reason.

"So, which one do you like?" She asked as you were a bit conflicted. You saw massive crowns with gems the size of your palm embedded on the headpiece, tiaras small and dainty with precious little rocks that looked more like raindrops or morning dew. Feyre could see the hesitance on your face, giving yoru arm a pat as she manuvered the pair of you to another section of her collection.

As part of her wedding gift to you and your fiance Azriel, Feyre offered you to wear one of her crowns at the wedding ceremony. You two were close friends, ever since she came into Velaris and she was introduced to the Inner Circle. You loved her spirit and stubbornness, not being a cookie-cutter mate to Rhsyand. You instantly loved her art and painting, taking a few pointers from her after the Battles against Hybren and when there was peace in Velaris again. You two grew close, and she was the first friend you told about your engagement to the Spymaster himself. Feyre and Rhysand wished to contribute to the wedding planning as much as they could, and although you and Azriel made them swear to keep the ceremony and reception very small and intimate, they still planned everything out for you two.

All the way down to the attire, in which you were going to wear the High Lady's jewels.

"Azriel told me you two were going to be married in Elaine's garden at the Townhouse, right?" She asked, you nodding your head as she then reached out into a small pocket in the wall, taking out a very delicate and intricately designed crown. The base looked like vines wrapped around one another making the circle, leaves made of pure gold, and some yellow gems that looked molded into gold. Throughout the rest of the piece, there were small emeralds and yellow diamonds, making the crown look more like a halo of enchanted leaves.

You gasped, Feyre's face beaming as she held it in her delicate yet deadly fingers.

"I think we found the right one," She commented, reaching up to place in your hair. It wasn't heavy, nor was it light. The weight almost threw you off for a moment, but Feyre moved some of your hair from your eyes and along your jawline to see how the crown would look.

She moved you over to a mirror that was propped on a cabinet, you saw your reflection in the mirror and the shock ever leaving your face. You felt like a princess with a crown on your head, something you never thought you would feel. Coming from humble beginnings and needing to survive on your own to get your own food, you always had to endure and adapt to what life threw at you.

Yet ever since Azriel came into your life, blessings were coming in left and right. He made sure you were loved, that he supported you in all the choices you made, and he always made sure you never had to go hungry again.

You were seeing the reflection of your inner soul wearing that crown: a Princess about to marry her Prince.

"Perfect, simply perfect," Feyre said from behind you. You nodded with evident tears in your eyes.

It was perfect. Beyond perfect

"Almost done back there?"

"Mmmm nope. Are we being impatient?"

"Never!"

Azriel chuckled behind you as you were facing the view of Velaris in front of you, sitting cross-legged on the blanket that you brought for your picnic as you were working on the cross stitch that you also brought along. The small buzzing of bumble bees to your left, the soft wildflowers along the right side, and the howling winds that were swooping down from the mountains were in front of you.

The perfect day for an outing.

Being married to the Spymaster of Nigt Court was nothing short but adventurous. You knew going into the marriage that Azriel would have to make some compromises. If he had to go give aid to Rhysand or the safety of Velaris was at risk, if he had to go in the middle of the night to spy on another Court, it was always up in the air with your husband. Yet you never once grumbled about it, because you knew he would always come back into your waiting arms. It was his promise to you on your wedding day and in his vows that he swore he worked on for months on end: Azriel promised to never have you be alone in your bed or in your relationship with him.

He has fulfilled that promise.

It's been a good 5 years since you two were married, only the Inner Circle and a handful of priestesses in attendance. He wanted it that way since Azriel thought a massive wedding and mating ceremony would be far too much for you two. Yet you had the best night of your life with him as your husband and surrounded by people who loved and supported the pair of you. After your honeymoon, you both found a small little house that was near the outskirts of town, near the farmlands and the forests that seemed to be more of a fixer-upper. Yet you found it a challenge, rolling your sleeves up and getting right to work with a shocked husband right behind you.

Within a month, the house was liveable, and within a year's time, it was perfect.

"Alright, I think it is finished!"

You placed your cross stitch down and turned around, seeing your husband and your 8-month-old daughter named Eve in his lap grinning at your as Azriel was holding a flower crown in his hands.

"A crown fit for a queen," he said lightly, Eve babbling in his lap as she tried to reach up to take the crown with her chubby fingers. Both you and Azriel chuckled while he placed the flower crown on your head. Massive twigs were molded into a circle, with daisies and wildflowers laced around along with a few poppies that were nearby. Once the crown was placed in your hair, Eve shrieked at the sight of her mother wearing flowers and Azriel beamed.

"Just as gorgeous as the day I married you," He hummed, leaning over to kiss you softly on the lips.

There were trials and struggles coming your way with Azriel, but you two always faced them together. Small spats and fights were had late in the night about his well-being and safety, yet they always ended with you two holding each other in bed and whispering apologies. Stress from work and from working with the High Lord and High Lady would try and defy the pair of you, yet neither of you would let it.

And lastly, a small health scare you had left you with more questions than answers. The smallest possibility that you couldn't bear children broke your heart for some months. Azriel held you close as you cried into his chest after Madja told you the news, having you feel more broken than ever.

"You mean more to me than anything. If being parents is not our path, then I'll live with that. I can't live in this world without you or your joy, and if it's just the pair of us in this life, I'll take it," Azriel reminded you as a vow when you two were wrapped in each other's arms in bed. You knew it was true, and although it was a saddened feeling that you may not have a child, you would rather have Azriel.

However, your daughter Eve came into your lives a year later. Her father's wings and eyes, your hair and freckles, she was perfect. Seeing her swaddled and held in her father's arms, watching his eyes fill with tears as he kissed her dark mop of hair hours after she was born, it was all worth it.

"My little Eve Star," he cooed at her.

Eve cried out in Azriel's lap, not getting attention from either parent. You pulled away from Azriel, laughing as you scooped her into your arms and kissed her cheeks.

"Did you help your father make my crown, my little Eve Star?" You said to her playfully, tickling her sides and hearing her giggle in delight.

"Of course she did, she had her mother's creativity you know," Azriel joked.

Sometimes you thought back to the crown Feyre lent you for your wedding, which later was given to you as a Winter Solstice and Wedding Anniversary gift, and you thought of it as a blessing. But the true blessing was the flower crown on your head, made by the one being that brought you more joy than anything.

You would take flowers over gems any day.

The End.

Spring Prompt Session

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel x female!reader #acotar fluff #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin

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acourtofthought · 7 months

Text

How It All Comes Together

(contains spoilers for all series)

I have so many posts at this point. So. Many. Posts 😂 And they all touch upon a lot of the same information but I wanted to put every headcannon I've got in one place in the order of events (though the order of events within each book is flexible) that I think could happen.

I have no idea if any or even one will turn out to be accurate but when I combine her interviews, books, and Q&A sessions together, this is how the information seems to best fit together and makes sense to me.

Starting with an Elucien book:

"Let's focus on healing one sister then the other."

Elucien will restore spring together -

My father would think twice before standing against an army of superior strength and size.

"But Tamlin is already hanging by a thread. You and Lucien have made it clear that he's barely improved this past year" "With a new war possible and Briallyn up to her bullshit with Koschei, we need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court's forces"

"No. But we need to summon Lucien," Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn't like it one bit. "We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears."

"I am the first one the others look to - I set the example"

Her sister's delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring"

But Elain...The Spring Court had been made for someone like her. / Too bad her sister refused to see her. Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place. And too bad the lord who ruled these lands was a piece of shit.

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she'd placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess - perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn't let herself dwell on why she'd felt the need to set the rose there.

"She pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he'd tried to bring into the world."

Elain and Lucien will perform in Calanmai aka Fire Night together -

"There's a ritual. But it's...very faerie." / "From their coupling, magic will be released and spread to the earth, where it will regenerate life for the year to come."

It was Spring, and yet it wasn't. / Distant - because on the estate, nothing bloomed at all. / The pink roses that had once climbed the pale stone walls of the sweeping manor house were nothing but tangled webs of thorns. / The Spring Court had felt stagnant. Hollow. Empty ..

"It's his (her) instincts that select her (him)."

"I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court."

I shook my head, trying not to imagine Elain subject to that....fire.

Elain would faint to hear such thoughts.

Elain will be able to shift into an owl (shifting being a marker of the Spring Court) -

"Your Tamlin has brute strength and shape-shifting"

"And once you were in this body, you couldn't change?"

Elain was again at my side, I hadn't heard her steps.

Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

Elain cocked her head.

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her.

"You came," Elain said behind her and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth - Teller to the hilt through the back of the king's neck. (How did she make it to Nesta in time when she was in the far reaches of their camp?

"Glamour for what?" "To look normal." "Being a High Lord, comes with physical markers too. It's why I couldn't hide what I was becoming from my brohters - from anyone. It's still easier to blend it." / "I think she's got you beat for secret-keeping"

Elain, Lucien, Vassa, and Jurian will find a way to get those on the continent to sign the treaty -

We need the humans in others territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.

"He's spent months helping them sort out the politics of who rules Prythian's slice of the human lands."

"He'd already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people"

"My sister can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles."

"She (Mor) was still trying to convince them to sign the new treaty."

"I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash."

"At worst, we'll have proof to justify any conflict and hopefully win allies to our side, avoiding the bloodshed that would carve up these lands once more.

"Jurian..." "Thank the Cauldron for him. I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. "He's keeping everything running. I think he'd have been crowned king by now if it wasn't for Vassa."

Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long.

"And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?

"She didn't used to be that way." "She loved balls and parties."

but Elain had taken charge of planning

Elain pushed, “We keep it secret—we send the servants away. With the spring approaching, they’ll be glad to go home. And if Feyre needs to be in and out for meetings, she’ll send word ahead, and we’ll clear them out. Make up excuses to send them on holidays. Father won’t be back until the summer, anyway. No one will know.”. / “I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

Eris will join Elain and Lucien on the continent, not only to free Vassa and stop Koschei / Beron but to retrieve Mor and for their past to finally be dealt with (their past being a possible mating bond between them which is why he set her free)-

"My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he's not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too."

"I wanted to feel out Vassa and Jurian." He didn't mention his brother, oddly enough. "But they clearly know little about this."

But as Eris strode by...I could have sworn there was something like sadness - like regret, as he glanced to Lucien.

But Vassa's freedom would end. Lucien had said as much months ago, and still visited her often enough that I knew nothing in that regard had improved. She would have to return to the lake, to the sorcerer-lord who kept her prisoner, sold to him by the very queens who had again gathered in their joint castle. Formerly Vassa's castle too.

"Tell my Vassa I'm waiting"

"Lucien stared out the window - as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target."

"But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?"

"Mor left for Vallahan this morning and is out of our daemati magic's range."

"She knows the truth but has never revealed it" "Why?" "Because she's afraid of it."

"You're not the person I want to explain myself to." "I doubt Mor will want to listen." (as for a Mor love interest, I think Emerie could be a possibility but I also think the Golden Queen is another option. As her hair and eyes were taken, there's a chance she was made into something new and Elain said "she's not dead, only changed as I was". I don't think she's talking about Vassa. There's also a line where Mor claim she's always be drawn to things that were wild and free)

I think Elain will be the one to break Vassa's curse which I don't think is a curse at all but a Valg infection. If she can heal as Yrene did than we know a healers light can banish the infection from someone's blood. (I have a longer post on this but this is the Cliffs Notes version) -

I'd never seen such spell work. I'd sent my power over her, Helion too, hunting for any possible threats to unbind it. I found none. It was if the curse was woven into her very blood.

"Black fire raced down his blood" (Chaols Valg infection)

"Will many of these soldiers die?"

Amren was holding Elain upright as she vomited in the grass. Not from the Caldron. But pure terror.

Elain rushed to Cassian. / Nesta was watching them when I reached her and Elain at the tree-lined outskirts. Had she done some healing, somehow, in those moments after she'd severed the king's head? / I didn't ask my sister, and she supplied no answer as she took the water bucket dangling from Elain's still bloody hands.

I think Lucien and Eris will finally kill Beron -

"Beron tortured you?"

Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him.

"The same things he does now." "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them."

"I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch."

The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him? Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

And Cassian didn't need to be a courtier to know his next words would slice deep, but it would be a necessary wound. Perhaps it would be enough to push things in the right direction. "I think you might be a decent male, deep down, trapped in a terrible situation." "I think you might even be a good male." "You're just too much of a coward to act like one."

Lucien will finally discover Helion is his father -

But not the gift of Helion. His true father. I still hadn't mentioned it. To anyone other than Rhys.

In the taut silence, Helion nodded to the bright hall beyond the room. "I would like to remove myself from the Mask's odious presence, and perhaps enjoy your palace, Rhysand. It's been a long while since I was in a place of such quiet. If you'll allow it, I'll stay here for an hour or two." "Something bothering you at home?" Rhys inquired, falling into step beside the High Lord.

I think Elain, if she has healing powers (not to mention her affinity for growing things), will be the one to help the Pegasus. This would provide her a purpose in Day and even connects her to the land where the Prison is located) -

Helion's most beloved pair - this black stallion, Meallan, and his mate - hadn't produced offspring in three hundred years, and that last foal hadn't made it out of weaning before he'd succumbed to an illness no healer could remedy.

According to legend, the pegasuses had come from the island the Prison sat upon - had once fed in fair meadows that had long given way to moss and mist. Perhaps that was part of the decline: their homeland had vanished, and whatever had sustained them was no longer.

She found flowers - somewhere.

It's possible that if she does travel to the Prison, she'll also find where Koschei's box is located (possibly the box that possesses his soul) -

"There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything...save for them. The girls."

"Maybe...." "Part of me wonders if the Prison was either built or stocked with it's inmates to hide the Harp's (onyx box?) presence. There are so many terrible powers here, and the wards on the mountain itself. I wonder if someone hid the Harp (onyx box?) knowing that it'd never be noticed with so much awful magic around it."

"These are like no wards I've felt before." "They feel old. Incredibly old." "They probably predate this place being used as a prison (remember, we learn that the courts were not actually formed until after the Prison was made).

"But Koschei is as old as the sea - older." "I fear what may happen if he ever gets free of the lake. If he sees this world on the cusp of disaster and knows he could strike, and strike hard, and make himself it's master. As he once tried to do, (hint that Koschei is Asteri / possible Valg?) long ago." "Those are legends that predate our courts."

Lucien will help infiltrate the castle where the other Queens had been staying. Not only did the castle once belong to Vassa but if Koschei's soul is not hidden in the prison, maybe it's hidden there -

"I told you; their castle is too heavily warded, and full of magical traps that would trip up even Helion."

I do think it's possible that Koschei will be defeated in an Elucien book and I think it's possible Lucien's fire will fail him in that scene causing him to tap into his Day powers in full -

"I was getting worried you'd never approach. Poor Eris would have met a very sorry end if that had been the case. His fire wouldn't have withstood Koschei's lake, I don't think."

Maybe Lucien will also be the one to help Rhys and Feyre undo the bargain that links their lives to one another -

"Perhaps Amren was working on some way to undo the bargain - if anyone could think of a way, it would be her. Or Helion, he supposed.

I believe Eris will step into power as High Lord of Autumn by the end of an Elucien book. I also wonder if when they think everything has calmed in the rest of Prythian and the continent, they'll visit Feyre and Rhys only to be informed of Bryce having landed in Velaris (and her subsequent return to Midgard). This will set up the either the final spin-off (not sure if SJM still plans on having the third spin-off set in the past which she mentioned as a possibility in interviews) or the next round of ACOTAR books, some from the ones she was contracted for in her latest 4 book deal. -

A Gwynriel book would then follow -

I think Az's story will first tackle his past with Mor. If she is ready to admit to the truths Eris spoke of in SF in an Elucien book then she'll finally be in a place to have the conversation she needs to with Az -

"What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question.

I think the majority of his arc will deal with his hatred of the Illyrians, and now their issues with the Valkyries, possibly ending with Rhys leaving him charge of overseeing them in a more permanent position -

Perhaps we needed a permanent presence out here, until the Illyrians remembered things like consequences. / But the war had impacted us all, and with the rebuilding, with the human territories crawling out to meet us, with other Fae kingdoms looking toward a wall-less world and wondering what shit they could get away with...We didn't have the resources to station somewhere out here. Not yet. Perhaps next summer, if the climate elsewhere was calm enough.

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly.

It was healthy, perhaps, for Az to sometimes remember where he'd come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.

Az might hunt down Bryaxis who I believe is the thing that guarded a portal to Hel that exists in the library. I think we'll see Bryce enter the portal in CC3 or Aidas exit it and they'll realize they need to close it back up -

"Do you want me to hunt it down?" An easy, unruffled question. "Let Bryaxis enjoy the Solstice as well," I said. A rare smile curled Az's mouth. "Generous of you."

"No, but..." Gwyn's swallow was audible. "I can feel something. Like a cat. Small and clever and curious. It's watching.

And then there was this. Not only the true absence of light, but...a womb. The womb from which all life and come and would return, neither good nor evil, only dark, dark, dark. Nesta. Her name drifted to her as if rising from the depths of some black ocean. Nesta. It slid along her bones, her blood. She had to pull back. Pull away. The darkness pulsed, beckoned.

"The House is good." Nesta breathed. "Is it?" Nesta considered. "The darkness in the pit of the library - it's the heart of the House." Amren nodded. "And where is it now?" "It hasn't made an appearance in weeks. But it's still there. I think it's just...being managed. Maybe the House's knowledge that I'm aware of it, and didn't judge it, makes it easier to keep in check."

I think Gwyn may be a cousin of Eris's (maybe Lucien) which will cause conflict between she and Az as he'll struggle to let go of his prejudices toward Eris (and Lucien) while she will want to build a relationship with the only blood family she has left -

"My grandmother was a river-nymph who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court."

Gwyn will have siren powers that she can use to do her bidding against enemies -

Something beckoned in Gwyn's song, in a way the other's hadn't.

Gwyn's voice rose again, holding such a high note it was like a ray of pure light, piercing and summoning.

Like Gwyn was calling only to her.

"I barely outran that one as I led it toward the camp. My timing was just good luck, though."

Gwyn will pull both Narben and the miniature manuscript from the sea. Seeing as how the book is one of the first printed books in existence, I think it will contain information that will be necessary for future threats to their world -

She would have kept it secret. I only heard from a fleeing water-nymph that it had been done."

"When it would not bend to her, she destroyed it." "It was perhaps in our favor. Had the King of Hybern possessed Narben, I fear we would have lost the war."

A miniature illuminated manuscript, crafted by the skilled hands of the smallest of the lesser Fae- one of the first printed books in existence. / He regretted throwing it into the river the moment it had vanished under the ice, but he'd been foolish that night.

I think Gwyn's song may also be able to draw Azriel back, in the chance he has a different form and maybe that's what he meant when he made the comment that he sings. That he too needs to sing in order to pull himself from his "beast" side -

"Az is different. In a lot of ways." His tone didn't invite further questioning.

I think you'll find that Az is even less forgiving than I am." "With that pretty face?" she crooned. "I have a hard time believing it."

"They were shape-shifters who dwelled in the lakes and rivers and lured unwitting people into their arms. And after the drowned them, they feasted." Nesta stared toward the bog's black surface. "And they live in there?" "They vanished hundreds of years before we were born," Cassian said firmly. They're a myth whispered around fires, and a warning for children not to play near the water. But no one knows where they went. Most were hunted, but the survivors..." He conceded with a nod to Azriel. / "Just don't go running after a beautiful white horse or a pretty-faced young man and you'll be fine."

I think Merrill will be the main villain in Gwynriels story. That we'll find she had been in contact with Koschei before his defeat and gone searching for other survivors in other worlds at his command. She'll be the one responsible for helping them enter their world -

"There are others in your court as delusional as you are. They'll get it for me one way or another, with the right incentive. Granted, I'll need your blood to unlock the wards on the Trove."

"But know that Briallyn and the others sold me to him not through their devices, but his. By words he planted in their courts, whispered on the winds."

"I am descended from Labath, Lord of the Western Wind," Merrill seethed. "Unlike Gwyneth Berdara, I am no lackey to be dismissed."

"Midgard is a base. We opened the doors to other worlds to lure their citizens here." "But we also opened the doors so we might conquer those other worlds as well." "Your Starborn ancestors shut the gates to stop us from invading their realm once more and reminding them who their true masters are. And in the process, they shut the gates to all other worlds, including those to Hel, their stalwart allies. And so we have been trapped here. Cut off from the cosmos. All that is left of our people, though our mystics beneath this palace have long sought to find any other survivors, any planets where they might be hiding."

"Merrill's brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. When she first came here, she was obsessed with theories regarding the existence of different realms - different worlds. Living on top of each other without even knowing it. Whether there is merely one existence, our existence, or if it might be possible for worlds to overlap, occupying the same space but separated by time and a whole bunch of other things I can't even begin to explain to you because I barely understand them myself." "Honestly, I looked at some of her early research and my eyes bled just reading her theorizing and formulas."

so she supposed that two would take them perhaps a bit farther than that, and Velaris … Well, it seemed like it’d take three strings. She didn’t want to know where all twenty-six strings might take her if strummed. Or if someone made a melody..

I think part of a Gwynriel plot will be Az and Gwyn working together to try to understand what Merrill is actually researching -

- and in its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it. and some other fancy thins that had been explained to Cassian once before he deemed them boring and proceeded to ignore them completely. Az, of course, had been fascinated.

Gwyn let out a breathy laugh. “I mean it. I learned about a new Valkyrie technique last night.

“I don’t know,” Gwyn said. “All I know is that I was assigned to work with Merrill and aid in her research,

By the end of a Gwynriel book, I think we'll be set up for a Multi POV / Crossover Series book(s) in the ACOTAR world. Possible plotlines -

Nesta will raise an army of the dead / World Walk -

And one day, when the time was right...They'd take the next steps. They'd walk down whatever road lay ahead of them together.

The Harp sighed, a low purr rolling off it as Nesta’s hand neared. We shall open doors and pathways; we shall move through space and eons together.

He’d think of that another day. Along with the fact that she’d stopped Time with the Harp.

She could feel them around her. The dead. / Thousands and thousands of bodies. But she would not call thousands. Not yet.

I think Lucien will be High King, wielding Gwydion. Yes, I realize it called to Bryce but unless we find out Amren’s recollection of the High Priestess giving it to him was wrong, it seems it first belonged to Fionn and was taken by Theia. Made objects can have others do their bidding, therefore it could have wanted Bryce to be the one to take it home. We know Helion responded to the mask, a made object, therefore Lucien should theoretically be able to wield made objects too -

Rhys as High King: he could think of no other male he'd trust more. No other male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys. / "But know that the Cauldron's benevolence will be extended to you only for so long before it is offered to another.

"Lucien's goodness"

"He is a good male"

"he'd already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people."

"Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them before."

"But Lucien had learned to keep his cool".

Narben's powers had not been the holy, saviors light of Gwydion" (Side note, SJM tagged Elain under the Blodeuwedd fairytale and the uncle of Lleu (Lleu being the character that seems to match Lucien's part in the tale) was named Gwydion. Gwydion means "born of trees" and in ACOWAR, SJM tells us Lucien looked "crafted from the forest")

SJM once spoke of us seeing more babies in the ACOTAR world and I think this will refer to Elain in any future crossovers (not CC3) -

"But Elain had given it back - had pressed it into Azriel's hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back."

I think Elain's war days are over and a pregnancy would provide her a valid reason to sit out of battle. If she does have healing powers then I imagine she'd much rather tend to the wounded.

I also believe that by this time, the food that sustained the Pegasus would be restored and the illness preventing them from having foals would be cured (a possible Elain storyline), making it possible for the Valkyrie to ride into battle on Pegasus.

The End 😂

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uukipi · 15 days

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I had someone on Reddit absolutely lose their mind over the fact that I’m drawing “hot fae dudes as chibis” and not as sexy hot men as the way god intended

I’ve never seen anyone lose their mind over chibis but I was also expecting it tbh. It’s the main reason I didn’t even try to draw fanart of them until like a good few years later. The fandom has so much realistic/semi realistic artists so I felt I’d b out of place (I don’t feel that now bc I guys keep gassing me up 💖)

But holy shit was this chicks rant just unhinged

My response before I knew she was deadass and was about to go sicko mode on me

She blocked me after she made the comment

No idea what the point of going off over CHIBIS is skbsnsnw

Posting to Reddit is worse than Tumblr I s2g ily u guys thank u for not being this brand of insane and continuing to like my pocket sized dudes 🥹

#acotar #acotar Reddit #pocket sized azriel #pocket sized lucien #i haven’t had someone lose it this hard at me in a SECONDD L FAOOO #PURE INSANITY #love my Tumblr girlies #we besties 4 lyferzzz

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elliemarchetti · 2 months

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Gwynriel Weeks Day 5

I know today's prompt for @gwynrielweeksofficial was domestic life, and I kind of respected that, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to write this sort of fake dating AU

Prompt: Domestic Life

Words: 1064

Azriel opened his eyes slowly, annoyed by the pale sunlight coming through the decorative curtains. He had overslept, a unique occurrence, but the worst part was that he wasn't recognizing his surroundings. The room was too small, the bed definitely not his, and the light wooden door located in the wrong place, too close to the window, beyond which voices speaking an unknown language chattered softly. Instinct told him to sit up, to make sure there was no danger, and to chase away whoever was daring to peek into his privacy, but a familiar weight on his chest and left arm glued him to the mattress, its warmth comforting for both his body and his spirit.

“Good morning,” a female voice, still drenched in sleep, murmured, and Azriel remembered everything. The mission that could have resulted in a disaster, the cover story Gwyn had invented on the spot, the kind family that had found them on the borders, his injuries, and the priestess desperate plead for help. He heard her say they were a couple of diplomats returning from Vallahan, who had been tasked with managing delicate commercial relations but had been followed by criminals who had almost killed them.

"All for a stupid necklace," she had said, probably showing the pendant whose original recipient was in Prythian, in the arms of her red-haired mate. The lesser Fae believed her, and accompanied them to their village, where Azriel could wait for his right wing to recover.

“You were lucky,” their healer, a tall, lanky creature with long straw-blond hair, had told him. “If they had hit you closer to the shoulder I wouldn’t have known how to save your ability to fly.”

Azriel had shuddered at the thought, and Gwyn had immediately approached him, placing a delicate hand on his muscular arm. She had reassured him, and caressed his face, just like a worried lover. When she had left him alone to rest, she had returned with their hosts to the living room, which also served as the kitchen, and had helped them prepare dinner. They had given her a simple dress, a little worn but still her size, and an apron to avoid getting dirty, into the large pocket of which she had immediately begun to stuff fresh herbs from the small garden in the back. She had put her hair up in a soft braid, and had laughed and joked with the little ones at home, who had the same teal eyes as her and the dark skin of the Summer Court’s inhabitants.

“I would like to have wings like your boyfriend,” the youngest had told her. “So I could beat the other kids in running races.”

She hadn’t denied that their bond was romantic, she hadn’t shown the slightest sign of discomfort at the idea, and even though Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her, he kept spying on her from the crack of the door she had left open, and had listened to her tell to the youngling that even though she didn’t have wings, she was still the fastest among her friends.

Three nights had passed since that day, and although he was starting to get better and no longer felt strong pangs of pain when he tried to stretch his shoulders, he knew he couldn’t resume the mission. Gwyn had helped him with this too, to understand where to start again, how to contain the damage, but above all she had taken care of him like no one had ever done before. She helped him bathe, and get dressed, and she even fed him the first time he got up to eat, making him blush like a lovesick puppy. During the night she had asked him if she hadn’t gone too far, her voice little louder than a breath of wind, but he had reassured her by holding her close and giving her a long kiss on the forehead. The truth was that he liked that farce, he enjoyed the illusion of being able to have a normal life with her, a peaceful existence, where there were no wars, secret missions, enemies to face openly and allies whose loyalty had to be controlled with bargains and blackmail. If someone had told him he would have this kind of thoughts a few days earlier, he would’ve laughed in the face of anyone who dared picture him so weak, but now that he had experienced what it was like to have a normal life with the priestess, he couldn’t help but wish for a little house just for them in the middle of nothing, a place that hadn’t been given to him by Rhysand and that didn’t remind him of the past, maybe a cottage he'd built with his own hands, though he wasn’t sure they knew how to make something so pure. For her, he could’ve learned. With her, perhaps he could forget the horrors of his childhood, and ennoble those bastard origins without being someone’s torturer. He was grateful to Rhysand for everything he had done for him, for saving his life and offering him food and shelter and protection, but working for him inevitably took away the daily life he longed to share with a partner. He could already imagine her walking around the house barefoot, relaxed, the smell of stew in the air and a child or two jumping around asking when dinner would be ready. For centuries, Azriel had been adamant on the issue of offspring: he had a terrible father, and he wasn’t going to be the same for an innocent creature. But with Gwyn…

“Everything okay? Are you feeling sick?” she asked, propping up on one elbow to get a better view of his face, and Azriel wondered what kept him from digging his hand into the flaming cascade of hair that had escaped from the silk tie, forming a puddle of harmless fire on his naked chest, to kiss her senseless. Decency and fairness would’ve been the right answer, but it was fear and guilt, so he just shook his head and told her he was simply hungry.

“I’ll go get you something for breakfast,” she murmured, and as if nothing had happened, as if sleeping together and being so close had been the most natural thing in the world, she got up, heading towards a kitchen that wasn’t theirs but could’ve been.

#gwynrielweeks2024 #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #this thing has everything i want from their book #angst #fake dating #sweet and platonic ways to express their love #longing for a normal life #azriel being grateful to rhysand but leaving his job because he feels guilty about it #gwyn being her awesome self and gaining confidence #a spy story where she saves his ass #hurt/comfort #azriel realizing he deserves love #and at the same time working hard to be a better version of himself #sorry i'm ranting #I have strong feelings in this day of the lord

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b00kdiary · 1 year

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Wildest Dreams (III)

ACOTAR The Batboys x Plus size reader

Where the reader finds herself gaining the attention of the most notorious males in Prythian and it seems that even her wildest dreams couldn't prepare her for the night they would share.

Notes: This has Rhys, Cassian and Azriel with a plus-size reader since I literally couldn't decide who it should be and thought that the best fantasy in the world would be all three :) Here's to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some bat-boy love too xo

Warning: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, smut and the bat boys being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady

Part I Part II Part IV

“This is where you live?” I muttered, my eyes scouring my surroundings in disbelief.

I lifted my eyes to the right, meeting Rhysand’s gaze, my brain forcing me to not focus on his hand trailing aimlessly at the nape of my back. He smiled, shrugging modestly as he nodded as if this wasn’t the most extravagant yet cosy home I’d ever seen.

“It’s beautiful,” I said softly, turning back to the ornate red-carpet and wood-panelled walls. The males remained silent behind me, allowing me to take in the room and I glanced back, trying not to overwhelm myself as realisation set in.

The realisation that I was here alone with these three males.

Rhysand had winnowed us all here after I had accepted their invitations, using his Daemati skills to tell Sadie where I was going- I could still see the shit-eating grin she gave me from across the floor as we left.

I had felt exhilarated after saying yes, exhilarated and needy as my words seemed to ignite a fire within them too, as if they envisioned the night ahead we’d share. And yet, now that I stood here, alone, unprepared, uncertain with them before me, that confidence dwindled into ashes.

They seemed to notice it too, their body language easy and unthreatening as they stood before me.

Rhysand stood tall, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, eyes soft and patient upon me. My gaze travelled to Cassian who sat on the arm of the sofa, a warm smile playing on his lips at my stare. And then finally my eyes moved to the left, where Azriel stood, arms folded, back leaned against the wall, watching me as keenly as I watched them.

I tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ears as the silence lingered on and I couldn’t help the way my fingers fiddled and pulled, knowing that this was not the kind of interaction they were used to.

We all stood too far away and wore way too much clothing.

Rhysand huffed a breathy laugh and my eyes drew from their haze as I looked at him, my cheeks heating at the knowing smile he wore, amusement and interest dancing in the shine of his purple eyes.

“Would you like a drink?” Azriel suddenly asked, his voice quiet. I paused, not expecting the question but I nodded slowly, smiling timidly in acknowledgement of my nerves.

“Yes, I would, if it’s not an issue,” I said, trying to even out the shaking in my voice as I spoke. Azriel nodded, pushing off the wall and began moving towards me, to the room in the back.

“Why don’t we all go? I could do with a drink and getting to know Y/N darling better” Rhysand spoke, and I felt a rush of relief flow over me at the words. My eyes met his, and from the small nod and quirked smile, I knew he was doing this for my benefit.

“My Lady” Cassian smirked, walking toward me and hooking out an elbow for me to take. I giggled, slipping my arm through the loop, and nestling myself up against the hard, strong muscles and warm skin.

“Well, thank you, Lord Cassian” I winked and he chuckled, his head throwing back, momentarily revealing the strong column of his throat. I tried to not make my stare obvious as he began leading me through the adjoining doors into a room with a large oak table.

Azriel had brought out a bottle of red wine and began setting down four glasses, filling them all up swiftly. I observed him as he moved, so graceful with his shadows dancing around him, and he somehow managed to look beautiful even while doing a task as menial as pouring drinks.

Noticing our entrance, he smiled and began to walk over, his feet ever silent as he stopped, handing me a glass. I took it, whispering a thank you and as my fingers passed him I felt the scars and roughness brush against my own.

I paused, brows furrowing as I looked down at his hand, still outstretched.

I had heard rumours of the Shadowsinger’s burns and yet from the severe scarring it seemed that whatever he had endured was far more horrific than any gossip had detailed.

Azriel didn’t move as I stared at his hands and I didn’t allow myself to appear disgusted or pitiful or anything of the sort. Instead, I reached out my shaky hand and traced a soft line of my fingers over the back of his hand and down his fingers, following the jagged and red scarring.

He shivered, so small it was almost imperceptible but I felt it, and as I raised my eyes and locked them with his I felt a small whoosh of air escape his lungs as if he had been holding it in this entire time.

There was little to be said, nothing that could ease that wound so I smiled, a smile that was genuine enough that I knew he could see the words unspoken in it, see it in my eyes as I watched him. He didn’t reply, merely nodding his head, a small tint now staining his structured cheeks and a smile tilting at the corner of his mouth.

We pulled away from one another, and as Azriel turned back towards the table, I noticed that Cassian and Rhysand had already taken their seats. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, his body leaned back and thighs outstretched with Cassian before him on his right and Azriel taking a seat on the left.

I inhaled deeply, gripping the glass tightly in my hand, conscious not to shatter it from the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I walked silently, intending to sit at the chair beside either Cassian or Azriel but as I moved past Rhysand, his hand gripped mine, his fingers curling gently around my wrist.

I turned, surprised and I chuckled lightly at the smirk that lined his lips.

“Yes, Rhysand?” I asked, quirking my brow up at him and he smirked fiendishly, tugging my hand to pull me toward him.

“I fear I cannot bear to part with you darling” He muttered, purple eyes shining with mischief and teasing as he dragged me over to him.

I rolled my eyes, as I got closer to him, my thighs brushing his “I’m sure you’ll manage-“

I gasped out in shock as he pulled me onto him, his hands swiftly snaking around my hips to settle me on his thigh. I gawked as my hand instinctively flew to his shoulder and it was a miracle that my wine didn’t go flying over him.

“Much better,” He said simply, grinning as I stared at him in bewilderment before taking a casual sip of the wine in his hand.

I heard the amused snickers of both Cassian and Azriel and as my eyes moved to them they flashed wolfish smiles at me, eyes raking over how I sat on Rhysand’s right thigh, my arms clutching onto him for support and my thighs clamped shut.

I was as rigid as a board and I’m sure I looked ridiculous.

I glanced down nervously at Rhysand’s thigh, my body tense against the powerful, thick muscles contorted under me. He didn’t appear to be struggling under my weight and barely seemed to acknowledge me at all.

Rhysand merely sat there, smirking, sipping from the glass in his left hand while the right was wrapped around my waist, his long fingers drawing faint circles against the material just under my breast.

I shivered at the touch, so casual and smooth and yet, it ignited a fire and need within me.

“Are you-“ I breathed, turning my head to fully look at Rhysand, who raised a brow at me “Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

I started snapping my head back at Cassian laughing, loud and bellowing and my heart plummeted into my stomach like a stone in the sea. I grimaced, my face burning with embarrassment and suddenly I wanted the ground to swallow me up and spit me out somewhere that wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry” Cassian snickered, clutching his chest and I tried to hide the burning in my eyes “Rhys may be smaller than me, but even I can tell that he’s held swords heavier than you.” I paused at his words, my breath stalling as confusion filled me and I looked up quickly at the general.

“Honestly angel,” Cassian said, his face softening “Surely, you don’t think that Rhysand’s that weak?”

The words were quipped jokingly and I felt Rhys shake under me, laughing lightly, Azriel’s lips shifting too. I almost did laugh, but I shook my head, solemn as I looked down at the glass in my hands suddenly finding the liquor more interesting.

“The males I’ve been with…” I paused, a small bitter scoff escaping me and I knew I didn’t need to continue. There was a silence after my words, a silence strong enough that I could hear my heartbeat in my chest.

Why did I say that?

I heard a glass clink against the table, and then a hand was at my chin gently tilting my head up to meet with a familiar sky of purple. I saw the sincerity and resolve in Rhysand’s face as he watched me, that hand now caressing against my cheek soothingly.

“Those males were assholes” He started simply, and my brows rose at how gravelled his tone was. “For any man to see you, to have the honour of being with you and not treating you with the respect and reverence you deserve, he is no real male.”

My breath stuttered as I stared, so captivated by his words, by his eyes and I could not stop how my body seemed to melt against him, seemed to fall into his comfort and warmth.

“Y/N you are many things, intelligent, funny, loyal, kind,” He said, listing off all the things that he had gathered in the last few hours since we had met, and those words lit my heart. “But you’re also utterly beautiful, and perhaps few have said it, perhaps they’ve said otherwise.”

His eyes sparked, dark and dangerous as he saw my expression drop, and saw exactly what males had said to me before. I would have felt embarrassed, and humiliated by that truth if not for how adamantly his eyes sparked in denial.

“But I can speak for myself, and my brothers when I say that we appreciate every inch of you, we desire every inch of you and even if you cannot understand it, it doesn’t cease to be true.” His words became almost as soft as a whisper, and when his eyes lowered to my lips, lowered and flashed with want, I knew exactly what I wanted too.

And I would not hesitate to take it.

I moved with surety, simply placing the glass of wine on the table before turning, my head shifting forward and to the side as I brushed a sweet and needy kiss against Rhysand’s lips. He sighed, a content exhale as his hand cupped my cheek and his lips moved against mine with more resolve.

It was gentle yet consuming, the kind of kiss that made my head spin and my body utterly numb. I was overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips against mine, his tongue sweeping teasingly and his hands caressing me, holding me like a lifeline.

I could faintly taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue and I moaned quietly, my body shivering at the deep groan that reverberated in Rhysand’s chest in response. My fingers grip the fabric of his shirt tighter as his tongue fans over mine, and his hand digs possessively into my waist, trapping me against his chest.

My brain was beginning to fog over, and my body igniting with need and pleasure as Rhysand slowly pulled away, his teeth dragging across my bottom lip as he did so, eliciting a gasping mewl from my lips.

I fluttered my eyes open, flustered and breathless as I met Rhysand’s gaze and I felt a deep unrelenting shiver rush over me at the thrill I saw in his eyes.

I bit my lip, the realisation that Cassian and Azriel watched us drawing me back to reality and I felt guilt riddle me that I wasn’t being fair with my attention. I drew back slightly, shifting to maybe move to Cassian or Azriel but Rhysand’s arm tightened like an iron grip around me.

“Your brothers are going to think you’re being greedy, High Lord” I purred as I looked back over my shoulder and Rhysand’s deep, low laugh in reply made me feel dizzy.

“I don’t know, they seem like they’re enjoying themselves” Rhysand shrugged and instinctively my head turned forward, eyes shifting to the two silent, immovable males before me. They sat, eyes dark, smirks feral and I could smell the arousal and desire in the air as they kept their gazes locked upon me.

“In fact” Rhysand continued and I could hear the smile in his voice, “I think they might even have some pointers.”

I blinked, my brows furrowing in confusion but I slowly understand what he meant as I felt Rhysand begin kissing against my neck, wet and sucking against the skin there. I huffed a breath, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he closed his lips and flattened his tongue against a soft spot.

“Keep your eyes on us sweetheart” Azriel muttered, his voice clouded and the authority behind it made me quickly bat them open again, a blush tinting my cheeks at the approving smirk he gave in response.

Rhysand continued kissing his way down the curve of my neck and as he settled my back against his chest I sighed, my chest rising and falling heavily at the feeling of his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

His hands began to wander, playful, careless glides of his finger over my sides, up and down my thigh kneading the flesh there, between and under my breasts, everywhere but the places I needed him.

“Rhysand” I groaned, sneering in annoyance as yet against his fingers trailed over my breast skimming the sensitive and pebbled nipple, but he didn’t stay there for long.

He laughed, kissing my collarbone and my back arched as his hands trailed high up to the apex of my thighs.

And stopped.

I groaned, growling low in my throat as my annoyed scowl flickered to the smirking, arrogant High Lord under me. He blinked, raising his brow in a challenge and I couldn’t help how my thighs clenched in response.

“Rhysand’s being very mean,” Cassian tsked, chuckling and as my eyes flicked to his he grinned, licking his lips as he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Give our angel what she wants.”

“And what’s that?” Rhysand asked, his voice dripping with faux innocence, his nose brushing the length of my throat. I bit my lip, holding back my gasp even as my cheeks began to heat with embarrassment.

“She wants you to touch her,” Azriel said quietly, hypnotically “She wants you to really touch her.”

My breaths began to stutter as Rhysand’s right hand grazed under my breast and he began tracing one long-ringed finger over my breast and across my nipple, visible through my dress.

I exhaled harshly, watching as he traced circles around the sensitive bud, his touch going from barely there to firmer. The room was silent as his hand moved up and he cupped my breast in his large hand, his fingers pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A moan slipped from my lips as he tugged, a content smile gracing his face as my body began to shiver slightly under the ministrations of his hands at my breast.

“Is that better, angel?” Cassian cooed, his hand coming up to rub at his face, his eyes unable to leave the hand that cupped me. I breathed out as Rhysand’s fingers played with my other nipple, rolling the bud in deft circles.

“No,” Azriel said, a knowing glint in his eyes as he cocked his head “It’s not enough, is it sweetheart?”

I swallowed once, my eyes captivated by his gaze and despite how hot my face felt, I shook my head in agreement, revelling in the smirk Azriel gave me.

“No?” Rhysand asked, his voice whispered against my ear.

I bit my lip in anticipation as his hand left my chest and slowly, so tauntingly slow, began descending my stomach. He drew casual and lazy circles against the flesh of my stomach as he glided lower, and I wasn’t sure if I was more breathless at the fact he was touching my stomach or that he was getting closer to where I needed him most.

He paused at the slit at the side of my dress, revealing the skin at my thigh and if moved, the underwear I wore beneath.

“Here?” He breathed, biting the lobe of my ear gently when I didn’t respond. I watched his hand, watched with desperation as it stroked near the seam of that slit and rested there.

“More” I pleaded, not caring how desperate I sounded.

“Tsk” Azriel shook his head, enjoying my pleas “Such a needy girl.”

“She is a needy girl” Rhysand agreed, his fingers slipping under the dress for a second before stroking back out again. I sighed, screwing my eyes shut in a mixture of pleasure and frustration, my body wound so tight, I could barely think.

“Come on, look at her” Cassian sighed, impatience lining his handsome face. “Give her what she wants… what she needs Rhys.”

Rhysand cocked his head and I glanced at him, nearly pouting at the taunting smirk he threw at me. But my body settled, melting as his hand slipped completely under the dress and cupped right against my clothed cunt.

“Fuck” He growled, slipping into an uncontained sort of provocation as the palm of his hand pressed against me. I moaned quietly, and his body trembled under me “So fucking wet.”

I didn’t hesitate to shift my position as Rhysand’s other hand guided me to spread my thighs, so that one lay sprawled over his thigh, exposing my simple black thong to Cassian and Azriel. Nerves bubbled in my stomach at the vulnerability but as they stared, infatuated and as Rhysand ran his fingers over the slit, my mind went blissfully blank.

It seemed that no one had the patience for mocking anymore, not as Rhysand’s hand lifted and traced over the band of my underwear.

“May I?” He asked quietly, nuzzling into the curve of my neck affectionately.

“Please” I whispered.

He groaned low in his throat as he slipped those deft fingers passed the material and into my thong.

I inhaled as he ran a finger over me, the rough callouses of his battle-trained hands rubbing against my most sensitive part eliciting breathy moans from my lips. Rhys exhaled deeply, his eyes blazing as he ran two fingers down, collecting the wetness there.

“Rhys” I sighed and I felt pure male satisfaction from him as he messily rubbed my wetness up against my aching clit.

“Fuck” I heard Cassian groan, his voice husky with appreciation and I blinked my heavy eyes open, my body lighting as the two males intently watched me, their eyes glued to the spot between my legs and Rhysand’s hand slowly circling within.

“Faster” Azriel commanded, his face hard and eyes unmoving I arched my back and screwed my eyes as Rhysand followed his words, two fingers rubbing swift circles against my clit.

I writhed, unable to keep my eyes open as pleasure rocked through me, my hips grinding back and forth as I ride Rhysand’s fingers, his lips at my neck encouraging and indulgent. His pace is firm and steady, rubbing against a spot that has my thighs clenching from how good it feels.

“Cauldron, Rhys I can’t-“ I whimper, my head now back against his shoulder, one hand gripping the material of my dress while the other dug my nails into Rhysand’s forearm.

“That’s it” He praised gruffly, his other hand coming up tugging at my sensitive nipples.

“I think she’s close Rhysand” Cassian mused and I could hear the pleased grin on his lips.

“Are you darling?” He asked, his fingers never stopping, his body pressing me unbelievably close to him as he muttered hoarsely against my ear. “Are you close?”

My legs began to tremble as that familiar chord within me tightened and my breathing began stuttering out as I shook my head, my lips parting to say yes but my brain was too fogged over for any words to leave my mouth.

My lips gaped open again and I felt that chord within me snap as Rhysand’s fingers shifted a little to the left. I gasped, moaning and writhing, my hips bucking as pleasure and release coursed through me like a tidal wave. Rhys hummed in approval, his fingers continuing their punishing pace against me.

“Look at how good she looks, moaning while she comes all over your hand brother,” Azriel said, and the dirty words had my back arching and hands fisting as I rode through the pleasure sparking through me.

I exhaled and inhaled sharply, my chest rising and falling as Rhysand’s fingers slowed, guiding me through my high before eventually stopping. I tried to even out my breathing, focusing on the smooth feel of Rhysand’s wet fingers now on the skin of my thigh and I slowly blinked my eyes open, lifting my groggy head from his shoulder as I did so.

My face was flushed and my body still trembled from the aftermath of Rhysand’s touch as my eyes locked with a grinning Cassian, a more subdued but satisfied Azriel and then back to Rhysand, who lifted his lips in a gratified lazy smirk.

“You look pretty worn out darling” Rhysand noted, smug and smirking and I rolled my eyes at his male satisfaction, even if he was in fact right.

“Sure you can handle two more Illyrian males tonight?” He cocked his head and images appeared inside my mind again.

Cassian, his hands gripping my waist as he wrapped his lips around my nipples, teeth tugging against the hard flesh. And then of Azriel, on his knees before me, head between my thighs, scarred hands holding down my flailing hips.

I shivered as the promised images dissolved and reality came flooding back, Rhysand’s filthy and seductive grin rippling over me like electricity.

I smiled softly, turning my gaze to Cassian and Azriel, both of whom looked on the edge of their seats, bursting with restraint and appetite.

“It’ll take more than that to burn me out,” I shrugged, raising my brow at them in a challenge.

And I felt my toes curl in anticipation as both their eyes lit with fire and they smirked.

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