#meanwhile RHYSAND OVER HERE

[divatheeva]

greetings acotar tumblr I have read one(1) audiobook and the rest of my knowledge comes from WithCindy videos (love her)

with that here is my EXTREMELY unserious fairysona because I love putting unserious sonas in serious media enjoy x

#tumblr is a little glitchy and showing one of my pics as duplicating #assuming it didn’t glitch ​please enjoy my ringo starr enderman sparkles rhys #i have a suspicion that tamlin’s ‘evil boy’ arc will be mostly retcon and shoehorned in #as opposed to slow descent #sorry if I got the spellings wrong btw LOL #like I know he’ll be shown as abusive later but pretending I don’t know anything abt the rest of the series #the golden fairy man seems mostly chill idk #meanwhile RHYSAND OVER HERE #is SENDING SEVERED HEADS TO PEOPLE #ya girl is over here like ‘wow the world of fairies is so much more than I’ve ever known’ meanwhile the fairy world is on actual fire #all in all book is exactly what I expected 10/10

[prythianpages]

Be Safe | Azriel x Reader

summary: you are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go.

warnings: fluff and a hint of suggestiveness at the beginning

note: I saw this tiktok and decided to write it into a little scenario because I loved it so much.

“Oh, you’re going to love the Day Court,” Mor purrs with a grin. “And it’s High Lord. Helion…let’s just say his pegasus isn’t the only thing you’ll want to ri–”

“Oookay.” Cassian chimes in with a chuckle, placing his hand over Mor’s mouth to keep her from finishing her sentence. “Settle down, Mor. We don’t want her to love it too much!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” you respond and then laugh as Mor bites Cassian’s hand. "Besides, Rhys will be there and he’s, you know, my boss. This trip is purely professional.”

The three of you stand in the foyer of the town house, Cassian cradling his hand to his chest with a pointed look at Mor, who merely rolls her eyes. You were heading for Day Court, where Rhysand already waited for you. Cassian and Mor had stopped you, insisting on wishing you well before leaving, even though your mission was amicable. The only danger you could possibly encounter on your trip, it seems, would be Helion’s chambers. A welcomed danger, if Mor’s insinuations were to hold truth.

“I should go now. I told Rhys I would be there within the next half hour almost an hour ago.”

As you gaze at your friends, a subtle ache tugs at your heartstrings, a silent yearning for another’s presence. Though you know he's currently engaged in a mission, you can't help but wish he were here beside you too. 

You turn away from your friends, preparing to winnow to the Day Court. It's as though the Cauldron itself heard your unspoken longing. Just as you're about to step forward, a hand emerges from the depths of the shadows, halting you in your tracks with a gentle yet firm touch.

You turn back around, watching as the darkness seems to part for him, revealing those warm hazel eyes that could pierce through the darkest of nights. “Azriel,” you greet in pleasant surprise.

His eyes lock onto yours and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. “Be safe,” he murmurs, his voice deep yet sweet like honey. The way he looks at you, full of concern and something else you can’t quite discern at the moment, sends a delightful warmth seeping into your heart. 

Azriel’s gaze flickers down toward your intertwined hands and you notice the subtle tension that comes from his scarred hands before he abruptly lets yours go. It’s a moment of vulnerability that makes your chest ache. You want to reach out for his hands again but he comes to stand by your side instead.

His arm brushes against yours. The dark tendrils dancing around his shoulders revel in your proximity, slithering down his arm and coiling around you in a cool embrace. You welcome his shadows, smiling softly when you feel them tug you closer to their master, deliberately enchanting you with the scent of cedar and night chilled mist. It’s as if they don’t want you to leave his side.

“I will,” you finally respond, your voice a mere whisper as you look up at him

Azriel’s gaze softens. The tension between you dissipates into something lighter, something magical. The world around seems to fade into darkness, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment that feels both infinite and fleeting. No words are spoken yet so much is said.

Meanwhile, Cassian and Mor exchange a knowing look of their own. The mutual crushing between you and Azriel has been evident to everyone for years. Well, everyone, except for you and Azriel. Mor and Cassian will give you grace, as Azriel can be unreadable at times. But Azriel? The spymaster of the Night Court? How he cannot see your unmistakable crush on him is beyond them.

“Be safe,” Cassian says, mocking Azriel’s tone.There’s a mischievous gleam in his hazel orbs as he gazes down at Mor, pouting his lips in an exaggerated manner. 

Mor’s eyes light up, mirroring Cassian’s mischief. She leans in toward Cassian’s shoulder–the very same way you’re doing with Azriel. Except, she wraps her arms around Cassian’s larger one, resting her head on his chest. “I’ll be so safe,” she cooes, voice like velvet.

Azriel feels the heat rising to his neck. He turns to Cassian and Mor, gaze darkening with an icy glare. “Stop,” he warns but it only encourages the two further.

They continue to hug each other and make kissing sounds. A blush creeps up your cheeks and you seek solace in Azriel’s arm, burying your face against it. Azriel’s wing instinctively curls around your form in a protective manner. Were you being that obvious? Your answer is immediately given as your hands gravitate towards each other once more.

 “Stop it! Or I’m going to kill you!”

Cassian pulls Mor even closer. His brows furrow, softening his expression as he directs his pout toward Azriel. “But how would that keep us safe?”

None of you will be safe if you keep delaying y/n. Helion does not like to be kept waiting, echoes an all too familiar voice–Rhys’s– through your minds. He leaves your mind as quickly as he entered it, lingering only in Azriel’s long enough to add: Let her go.

Azriel blinks, not realizing that throughout the teasing, his fingers had intertwined with yours. He turns his attention back to you, reluctantly releasing your hand. A sheepish expression takes over his features as he brings the hand that had been holding yours to rub the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t help but worry when you’re not home,” Azriel admits quietly.

Mor and Cassian both let out a sound that Azriel is quick to stifle with his shadows. 

“It’s only for a week,” you assure him as you open the door and step outside. You feel a flicker of anticipation tingling in your veins as you prepare to winnow. You turn back to face Azriel and your friends one more time.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?”

But I miss you already, Azriel thinks as he feels a strange stirring awakening deep in his chest. His shadows buzz around him in excitement. 

“Bye, y/n. Have fun but not too much fun!” Cassian calls out to you in mock warning over Azriel’s right shoulder.

Mor peeks out from Azriel’s left shoulder and winks at you. “But if you do find yourself having too much fun, call for me, okay?” 

“Sure,” you agree and Azriel fails to notice the reciprocated teasing in your tone.

He’s too busy glancing between Cassian and Mor, hazel eyes wary. His shadows whisper to him, confirming the suggestiveness of their words. Uneasiness settles into his stomach, causing his entire body to tense up.

He’s familiar with the flirtatious nature of the High Lord of the Day Court. Too familiar that he can already dreadfully anticipate the sweet words Helion will shower you with. His shadows stir, excitement morphing into panic. What if you fall victim to Helion’s charm?

Suddenly, he hates the idea of you going to Day. 

As your gazes meet once more, an unseen force seems to settle into place. His eyes widen in realization, his mouth parting to utter your name, but it’s too late. You’re already winnowing away and he lurches forward, after you, pulled by the golden threads that have wildly unfurled within his chest.

Mate. You're his mate.

note: I did not know how to end this so please don't come for me for ending it like this lol. Just know that Az is winnowing away to join you in Day Court right after. I hope you enjoyed! <3

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #acotar fanfic #azriel x y/n #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #azriel fluff #acotar fluff

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner (3) - Azriel

LISTEN I CAN EXPLAIN if you've been here for a while now, you can expect this part. If not, may I present myself - hi, I'm Mai and I'm an angst queen bitch. Fourth part already on the way, don't worry!

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: the turth comes out, but in a way Azriel didn't expect.

Warnings: prepare tissues.

Azriel had taken his time to process the words, and in the meanwhile, he had received so many notes from his family that he had his hands full of small paper balls.

There were notes from Feyre updating him of the screaming match between Cassian and Rhysand, long texts from Mor promising him the house was a safe place for you and that he better hurry to bring you out. Even Amren had written a brief ‘I knew it, boy’ that had him more worried than before.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want you to meet them. He loved his family like nothing else, and knew they would only be supportive and kind to his new status. Him being mated or not didn’t change the way they saw him, but part of him – the part that had felt rejection from his mother and his blood-family, was scared.

Azriel ended up sitting in the kitchen counter in front of you with a frown and a growing headache. Even though it was late and you had had a long day, you instantly noticed his mood.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t unusual for Azriel to go quiet in your presence. You had learned by then that it didn’t mean you did something wrong. Most of the times, it was his insecurities popping up randomly in his mind, the troubles of the day dragging him away from you.

And through the years, you had learned that there was nothing else to do but to stay close to him and remind him that he was there. Right with you, and that you loved him.

Still, as you stared at him that night, you noticed it wasn’t the usual frown. He snuck glances at you and moved from the couch, where he was banned, to the kitchen. You left the bowl aside and stood in front of him, one arm extended so he could hold your hand.

“How do you know Feyre?” he asked, not taking your hand.

“Feyre as… the high lady?”

“Yeah. You greeted her the other day. You two know each other?”

“Guess so. She has her art study right in front of my bakery, haven’t you noticed?” you answered, not understanding the nature of the question. “When she moved in, I baked her a welcome to the neighborhood pie and she has actually painted two of the pictures I hang on the wall”

“Feyre painted pictures for you?” Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Are you two friends?”

“Well, not friends per say, but we know each other. That’s what usually happens when you work in front of someone else’s work” you shrugged, you open hand still empty. “Why?”

“I didn’t know you knew her”

“Should you know I know her? For any specific reason?”

“It would have been nice to know you know my high lady. My brother’s mate”

“Now you know. What’s with all this ‘you know I know’? Why does it matter?”

You didn’t understand why but there was an annoyed edge on his voice that you didn’t like. As a morning person, you usually went to bed early, and any minute past midnight was a minute you were supposed to be asleep. No matter how nice it was to spend time with Azriel and how good he had made you feel an hour ago, now you were annoyed.

The male stared at you, still not answering your silent call for his hand. One of his many shadows crossed the table and jumped at the chance of tangling between your fingers. That would have been enough to make you laugh any other day.

That night, you just stared at each other.

“Az, why are you so – “

“Because you should have told me, Y/N” he cut you off. “You know how important my family is to me, and I think it’s fair to ask that if you know any of them you should tell me. So I’m prepared for this”

“What’s this exactly? Late night discoveries about my neighbors?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, frustration clear in his features. It was a stupid argument over a stupid situation, and Azriel being on his underwear and you only on his t-shirt without panties didn’t make it any less stupid. You rarely argued, and when you did, it was you who had the pointless argument and Azriel the calm one.

His shadows moved behind the couch and dumped in front of you a bunch of papers. They were all wrinkled and Azriel didn’t have time to hide them or think about how to approach the situation before a new one popped out of thin air. It landed next to your open hand, his shadow catching it and unfolding the content.

Does she eat cereal straight from the box? Is it why you’re hiding her?

You didn’t need to think hard to know it was talking about you, and who the note belonged to. In the past, Rhysand had sent notes to Azriel while you were having a shower together, in bed together, and one had even appeared inside your oven while he was helping you around.

“Feyre told them about you” Azriel explained, having read the note upside down. “And because I didn’t know you knew her, now they are deeply offended and want to meet you”

It took you a while to make sense to his words, because you couldn’t find the problem past you not telling him about Feyre. Quickly, you read some of the notes where Cassian threatened Azriel and Rhysand demanded his presence. They were friendly notes, no harm in them. Still, you couldn’t understand the utter sadness until you realized the meaning behind his annoyance.

Finally, you pulled your hand back to your side, not with little resistance from the shadow. You must have opened the bond channel because Azriel frowned, hit with sadness instead of the usual love.

The first note, where Rhysand explained that Feyre had told him, was what brought it all together.

“You haven’t told them you have a mate”

It occurred to you that you had believed it done with no proofs. You didn’t mind Azriel being at your house, living in your apartment. You didn’t mind having separate Starfall and lives. You didn’t mind either when he left for a family dinner and kissed you goodbye, because you understood his need of privacy, of having something that was just his.

What you didn’t understand until that moment that he hadn’t even told them you existed. And through all the reasons that ran to your mind at his silence, you couldn’t pick just one.

“It’s not that they don’t know me. They don’t know you’re mated”

“You agreed when I said I need to take things slowly. That I needed time” he blurted out suddenly, your sadness making space for his annoyance. “The bond was a surprise for me. I didn’t want to rush things”

“Azriel it’s been six years. Six! It’s not a casual fling or a one-night stand” you tried to voice your hurt, your sadness. “It’s not the same not meeting them that being a secret”

“It’s not like I keep you a secret. They haven’t asked and I haven’t – “

“Because you haven’t told them! What – How do you explain the days you spend here? And the… I – Azriel, we’ve been dating for six years and they haven’t asked?”

“They’re used to me sneaking around”

“For months?” you chuckled. “We were locked here for months after we mated. How did you explain that?”

His words were background noise because, above his absences, there was something you realized they should have noticed. Something anyone noticed from mated pairs as soon as they left the house. White noise filled your ears as he tried to excuse himself by talking about missions.

About your safety, about the worry of something happening to you if they discovered you were his mate.

Azriel blurred in front of you as realization hit you and tears filled your eyes. You could barely hold it together as you spoke.

“You’ve been hiding the mating bond” your breath hitched, because if there was something more important than your bakery, it was your bond. “They should have smelt it. But you’ve been hiding it”

“I didn’t hide it, please, don’t say it like that” his voice broke at the end, willing you to listen to him.

“Right. Because you can’t hide the bond from them unless you don’t accept it” you saw the moment your words hit him, the guilt in the way his shadows almost clouded your vision and his wings flared. “You didn’t accept the bond”

Azriel didn’t answer and, worse than any other betrayal or pain, it broke your heart. You remembered offering him the lemon pie, him tearing up and eating. Accepting the bond was an individual decision, one he should have made years ago – just like you did.

You still shared it; you still were mates. The only difference was that, while you proudly loved him and adored each part of his body and soul, he had rejected your smell on him, your imprint on his own.

An invisible hand cut off your air supply and your breath hitched. You covered your mouth with your hand and muffled the sob, but he felt the exact moment your heart broke. Even if he didn’t show it to the world, he could still feel you. Your feelings, your essence. His own eyes teared up and now he extended his hand forward.

A silent invitation, the same you had given him so many times when he was in need of comfort, of love.

But that time, you didn’t reach forward nor acknowledge the shadows that tried to pull you closer to him.

“Get out”

“Darling”

“Get out” you pointed a shaky finger towards the door.

“Y/N, please. It’s not what you’re thinking” he tried to explain, his voice broken by his sorrow. “I accepted the bond. I just – “

“Get the fuck out now!”

The bowl that you had been filling with lettuce, salmon and other vegetables flew from the desk to where he was standing. His shadows, by their own consciousness or his master’s, didn’t stop it as it crashed against his chest. It spilled all over his naked chest, and before he could clean it, there was another tray with grilled pork on your hand.

Azriel’s last look to you was of pure despair and sorrow. He winnowed away before the second tray could hit him, leaving you with his shadows already cleaning up the mess.

As soon as he was out of sight, you fell down to your knees and sobbed.

-

He didn’t have a plan, and when he winnowed away, the last thing on his mind was the sound of your heart breaking. There was no way he would go to his house and face his family, not when he wasn’t even sure what had happened in your apartment. Couldn’t start to comprehend the pain he had caused you and how much he hated himself for it.

So, without planning to, he ended up in the cabin.

The old wooden walls and ceiling greeted him, different from the ones he remembered from his past. Feyre had added drawings everywhere, there were clothes scattered around, and food that was still edible.

No matter how familiar the sight was, it offered him no comfort.

Azriel dragged his wings through the floor and sat on the couch. Propping his elbows on his knees, he hid his face as the first tear rolled down. Followed by many more.

He replayed your hurt voice once more, your face. It hadn’t been his intention to reject the bond, not really. But he hadn’t run away from it.

It took him two weeks of uncertainty to know that he hadn’t taken it the way you had. While you radiated with his scent, people didn’t ask him. He walked past Cassian during training and his friend just teased him for being disappeared for a month. Rhysand commented about having to report to him every now and then, and Amren didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

That was how he discovered that he had to accept his part of the mating process. He had to be proud, to want it, in order to complete it.

But you had been so happy, so full of joy and love, that Azriel had feared that telling you about it would make you sad. Eventually, he had learned how he should have done it – but at that moment, he didn’t know. Besides, he could still sneak whenever he wanted to without explanations. So he hadn’t said anything.

The first year rolled by, and he spent a good amount of days panicking about how to deal with the situation. The second year passed and you didn’t ask about it, neither did his family. By the fourth year, he had almost forgotten about it.

Azriel’s loud sob broke the silence of the cabin. His chest contracted and his body shock. It was different from any type of suffering, of pain, he had ever felt. He could still feel the echo of your own through the bond, could hear your cries in the distance.

In the lonely cabin, under the moon light, the shadowsinger sobbed and cried until his voice was raw. He was angry at himself, at his past and his traumas, even angry at you. Because now that he knew what it felt to be complete, to be happy and safe in someone’s love, he couldn’t bear the thought of not having it.

His body gravitated to the side and he curled himself in a ball, still in his underwear. It reminded him of when he was a kid and would try to hide himself in the dark cell, cowering in his fear and desperation.

As if he was a kid all over again, Azriel let his wings cover his body and cried. Cried until he couldn’t remember his name, until he was begging the Cauldron to turn back time and let him accept the bond. Carry you on his arm around Velaris and don’t let the fear take control of his life.

He felt like punching a hole through the wall. Like flying thousand feet up and letting go in free fall. Maybe get into a bar fight and let everything out. But his body was anchored to that couch, to that pain. Azriel pressed his closed fists into his chest, trying to relief some of the pressure.

While he wondered if that was what having his heart ripped from his chest fell, he forgot to keep his mental shields up.

Letting Rhysand in.

-

The house of wind had been chaos for a few hours.

Rhysand had tried to manage the situation by himself, wide awake in bed while processing Feyre’s words. He willed himself to sleep, to rest and leave the pondering for the morning. But when he tried to close his eyes, he could see Azriel covered in blood and killing an entire camp because an illegal wing clipping. He could notice the faint, new smell in the house that he hadn’t noticed.

If he had his eyes open, he couldn’t help but look at Nyx’s new toy.

So, Rhysand had woken up Cassian, after Azriel hadn’t answered his notes. And Cassian had been mad. Angry, furious, raging. The general had talked nonsense about berries for a while and then he begged Rhysand to wake up Feyre and find Azriel to interrogate them.

And, who was the high lord to deny a late-night gossiping session?

Feyre had been mad but she had told them that Azriel had a mate that worked in front of her art studio, in a bakery. That you were nice and cheerful, that you had been mated for six years.

That was when Cassian lost it and woke up the whole house.

Now, all the members of the inner circle had gathered in the council room with their pajamas on.

“Maybe it’s not true. Feyre, you might have had imagined it”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Feyre raised her eyebrows at Cassian.

“I’m just saying he would have told me! We’re brothers. And we don’t keep secrets in this house. Never.”

“You don’t keep secrets” Amren cut him off, not looking at him. “Your bean brain is too simple to keep any type of secrets from us, but that doesn’t mean all of us are exhibitionist”

“I’m not – “

“You are an exhibitionist. You announce everything, Cas. Even a fart” Mor corrected him before he could defend himself.

“Sorry for being kind enough to not keep secrets from my family” he frowned, turning to look at Rhys. “You keep secrets from me?”

“I don’t keep secrets from you” Rhys assured him, half a smile.

“He threw the sword you gifted Nyx for his birth and told you Bryaxis took it so you wouldn’t look for it”

Feyre looked at her mate with a raised eyebrow, daring him to say anything else. With a wide-awake Nyx in her arms, she looked at threatening as the Hybern army. She had yet to talk to him privately, but Rhysand knew he was up for a long talk. So he bit his lip and turned to Cassian. Who, of course, looked completely broken and defeated.

The rest of the group was silent, barely keeping their smiles to themselves. Even Nesta, who had a hand on his shoulder, was looking at Feyre with approval. Cassian stared at Rhysand for a long second before he talked.

“It was a nice sword”

“For a teenager, maybe. For a baby, not” Feyre answered again. “Weren’t you just talking about Azriel’s betrayal and secrets?”

“I, for one, knew he was hiding something” Amren commented for the third time. “Just saying I noticed. And you didn’t”

“Not all of us are creeps that stare and don’t talk. We have social lives to take care of” Mor said.

“Some of you do talk. Maybe too much”

Rhysand tuned out Amren and Mor argument when he felt a crack through Azriel’s mental barriers. He had been tugging at them softly to know where his brother was. Feyre had talked him out of the idea of barging in uninvited and demanding answers – at least, he had talked Amren and Mor out of it. Rhysand and Cassian were still unconvinced.

That was why he had kept a talon poking at his mental barriers since the argument started, thinking it wouldn’t be successful.

But then, Azriel opened it unconsciously and Rhysand brought a hand up to his chest.

Everyone fell quiet as the high lord scrunched his eyebrows and pressed his lips together, not ready for the wave of emotions and pain Azriel was feeling at the moment.

Feyre’s hand was instantly on him, Nyx looking up to his father with a pout that would surely turn into a crying session soon. Before the baby could start crying or any of his friends could ask him about it, Rhysand accepted Feyre’s help and got up from his chair.

“He’s at the cabin” he announced, already summoning his darkness to swallow Cassian and him there. “We’ll keep you updated”

Nyx’s loud cry was the last thing they heard as they winnowed away. And the first one they heard from the cabin, was Azriel’s broken one.

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

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y

#imaginemai #imaginesmai #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar one shot #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x your #acotar x you #cassian #rhysand #feyre #mor #amren #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel actoar #shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #imagines mai #imagine mai #x reader #one shot #fic

[readychilledwine]

Lose You to Love Me

Summary - You had wanted him for years, loved him for centuries, and waited for him to notice you and see you. But all books have to close, even if we don't like the ending.

Warnings - NSFW, oral, pentration, unrequited love/blind lovers, sex as a tool, the infamous solstice night, implied big brother knows/forbidden romance situation,

A/N - our last @azrielappreciationweek post. Some angst, smut, and feels for us to end the week. I will back from vacation tomorrow and cannot wait to see how this piece went over. 💙 ps. My hormones are all over the place, so I may have cried rereading this because it is such a familiar feeling that we all know. Hopefully, I caught all my errors.

You threw the last book into your bag, sighing heavily as it entered the pocket world and disappeared to your new waiting chambers in Winter. 

You had tried to tell Rhysand you were leaving. Tried to talk to him about the position Kal had offered you, when you'd be going, how this was a set in stone for good move. Did your sweet distracted older brother listen, though? No.

He had not bothered listening since Feyre came. Cassian had not bothered since Nesta was made. And Azriel? Well, that was a complicated story of its own. One you tended not to linger long on, even in your own mind.

Simply put, you were no longer needed here. Meanwhile, Kal, his court needed you. It was still recovering from Amarantha's attacks, and your ability to speak to the land and find where darkness was plaguing it would be a boon to him and his efforts. You had agreed with little hesitation, mind completely open to the new beginning he was offering. 

Your only guilt was choosing to run in the middle of the night on Solstice. 

You left your room to leave a note on the table for Rhys, pausing as you almost ran into Azriel. "Sorry-"

He interrupted your thoughts immediately,  cool shadows looking you over. "What's wrong?" Hazel eyes studied you, reopening the doorway to your room and forcing you back inside. "Y/n, what's wrong?" 

You shook your head, moving to embrace him one last time before you left. 

Azriel was still in your arms, one hand on the small of your back as even his breath came to a pause. "Y/n, where are your things? Why is your room empty?" 

"I'm leaving," your voice was muffled into the soft material of his shirt. "I've been telling you for months, Az."

Azriel pulled you back looking down at you in shock. "We thought you were kidding. You can't leave. Theres-" his jaw had a feather twitch as it clenched. "What can I do to make you stay?"

You shook your head again, watching as his face fell and tears lined both of your eyes. 

Something in Azriel changed in that moment, and the next thing you knew, his lips had slammed on yours, a hand tangled into your hair while the other snaked around your waist. He backed you to the bed, lips moving against yours as if he had been hoarding a lifetime of passion. He lowered you gently, immediately studying you and waiting for permission to continue. 

With a shaking breath, you nodded. A soft "please," falling from your lips. He began his assault again, gently this time though, lips moving at a slow pace as he crawled on top of you. You began unbuttoning his shirt, hands sprawling his bare chest once it was exposed, before moving to the back to undo the closures around his wings and take the material off completely. 

His lips moved to your jawline nipping softly at the flesh there and then to your neck. He growled at the soft gasp that left your mouth as he found the spot between your neck and shoulder that made your body tingle and skin ignite in goosebumps.

He took you removing his shirt as permission to remove yours. Then the soft lace bra he paused to admire. "Is this okay," he whispered in your neck. "You would tell me to stop, right?" 

"Yes," it was a breathless answer again, fueling him to grab more of that from you. 

You had wanted this, wanted him, since you were old enough to understand what these feelings were. This was bittersweet. You knew it was him giving one last ditch effort to keep you here. You knew it wasn't more than him caving to what he knew you had always wanted. 

At least in your mind, that's what you believed. For Azriel, this was the crescendo to a long slow dance the two of you had played for centuries now. You were beautiful, kind, loving, and he only had one chance at this, one moment to hold you, he'd take it regardless of those consequences. Regardless of the fist fight he'd have to survive tomorrow, he'd worship you this one night if this was his last chance to do it.

A soft moan left you and your back arched as he began to suck, lick, and gently roll your nipple between his teeth. His hand played with the other breast as he took his time ensuring that your sensitive peak was hardened before switching his mouth to the otherside pulling those same panting moans from you as your own hand tangled back into his silken hair. 

Scarred hands hooked into the waistband of your soft leggings as Azriel released your breast with a soft pop. He looked up at you again, waiting for permission before sliding them down, groaning softly as the soaked lace panties you were wearing. 

"I'd like to believe you wore these just for me," he muttered. 

You whispered back, "How do you know I wasn't?" And something ignited in his eyes. Ripping them off of you while maintaining eye contact and growling in response. He wasted no time, settling between your legs and kissing from inner knee to thigh as he placed your legs over his shoulders. 

That first lick had your head thrown back into the pillows, back arching, and lips parting in shock. Azriel looked up at you through hooded eyes, hazel lost in lust as he savored you, licking through your folds again before nudging that swelling bundle of nerves. Shadows came to your wrists, pulling them above your head and locking your arms there. It left you completely to his mercy. And that was exactly how he needed you. 

He began to alternate between pushing his tongue as deep into you as he could, licking and drinking the nectar flowing from your core to moaning and humming, his lips sucking your clit. 

You were panting, writhing in place, and moaning for him, begging him for more, for everything. "Azriel, please," you cried as his tongue found your entrance again. He took mercy on you then, latching his lips around your clit rolling it below his tongue gently all while a finger began to run through your soaking heat and then pushed in. 

The Silent scream that left your mouth had him doubling his efforts, wanting to hear the real thing fall from your lips as he began searching. A whiny loud moan left your lips when he found his target, that soft silk spot inside of you. He began pulling that single finger in and out, curling it with each thrust as he continued licking at you clit and moaning as your hips began to roll and grind. That second finger had you panting, his name falling again and again as your eyes fluttered shut and back fully arched. You were close, so fucking close and he could tell. "Cum for me. Look at me and cum for me, y/n. Let me see you fall apart." You obeyed without question as he moved to be above you, watching your face as his fingers pulled you apart string by string. His thumb came to your clit, gently circling the nerves, and when you came, you swore you saw the night sky in her entirety. You screamed his name before falling into whine like moans as he kissed you to silence the noises you were making. 

They were for him and him alone tonight. 

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them to your lips and watched under clouded eyes as you licked and sucked them clean. 

It was desperation that had your hands flying to the ties of his pants, eyes locked on his as you got them loose and pulled them down, releasing his heavy hard cock. You began stroking him, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you finally felt the weight of him, the softness of him in your hands. Azriel groaned, leaning to grab the headboard above you, lost in the feeling of your smooth hand working him, enjoying the way lust had set in so heavily you dropped all inhibitions for him. His hips began to move in time with your hand. Moaning as he felt his stomach tighten in anticipation. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it gently to stop you. "Next time," he stated firmly. And guilt set in as you watched him undress fully, there would not be a next time. Your heart could hardly handle this.

You couldn't handle being his flavor of the week, distracting him from his clear wants to be with another. You would take one night, close this chapter, and let go of him, freeing yourself of these unrequited feelings burning inside of you.

He wrapped your legs around his waist lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed in gently, watching your face the entire time as your eyes squeezed shut, breath leaving your lungs. 

You had never felt so full and complete in your life, and you knew deep down you would never feel this again. 

How could you? You were allowing himself to ruin you for any other male, knowing damn well about that string in your chest that never snapped for him. 

Azriel rolled his hips, eyes squeezing shut as your heat swallowed him whole, consuming every inch of him and his soul. You were incomparable and irreplaceable, and his mission set in now. 

Showing you exactly what you meant to him the only way he truly knew how. Gentle kisses came with gentle thrusts, praises whispered in your ear of how much he cared for you, how beautiful you were. Your legs wrapped his waist tighter, hands scratching down his back as those hard deep thrusts hit and filled every inch of you, setting your nerves and body on fire. "Gods I love you," he whispered once he lost himself in bliss. "I love you so fucking much."

And you whispered it back, knowing it was your one chance to tell him. Knowing this was goodbye and tomorrow he'd go back to pursuing Elain. You whispered it over and over, his forehead finding yours as those thrusts picked up pace, hitting that perfect spot every time. "I've always loved you," he whispered. "It's always been you." 

Meaningless words. Words meant to comfort you as if he knew what he was doing. As if he knew the years of tearing yourself apart you had gone through. "I'm right there, baby," he moved to kiss you again, a shadow coming between you to lick at your clit. "Need you to come with me. Need to feel you. Please, y/n," he moaned into your neck. "Please, give me one more baby." 

"Harder," you commanded gently. Needing him to hurt you. "If you want me to come, fuck me harder." 

Legs went from his waist to over his shoulders, allowing him deeper into you, and he began a brutal pace, smirking as you began to shake around him immediately. He had you seeing stars already, that coill tightening over and over like a string waiting to bust. Fingers gently went to a splayed wing, touching the ridge and making Azriel roar as he spilled into you without warning, and triggering your own completion. 

He held you in place, a few sloppy ruts into your seed filled cunt before he pulled out and laid next to you. He pulled your bare body to his, your back meeting his chest. 

Neither of you spoke, words having already been said that you both meant to take to your grave. 

You waited until he fell asleep, kissing him one last time and dressing yourself. You stepped onto the balcony, summoning your wings and wiping the tears that were falling. 

You took off, closing the book of your time in the Night Court as you did along with ending the tragic love story between you and Azriel. 

The next morning, Azriel woke up to an agonizing cry and scream. One he knew belonged to Rhysand. You were gone, your side of the bed empty. He immediately sent shadows to search for you before shielding the scent of sex that lingered on his skin and grabbing his clothing to shift himself to his room.

He had barely pulled pants on before Rhys was at his door, tears streaming as he handed Azriel a note. "Find her. Please find her. Please bring her home. I." Rhys didn't need to explain as Azriel pulled him to his chest. "I can't lose her. Please find her."

And as Azriel held Rhys, he swore on that golden glittering bond he would not stop until he did find you. And he would not stop until you realized those words he whispered to you last night weren't just words. They were his truth.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azrielweek2023 #azriel x Rhysands sister! reader #azriel x yn #azriel x you #Spotify

[separatist-apologist]

Meanwhile, Nesta has problems:

Cassian advanced, unconcerned with the gun in her hand. She supposed he was used to seeing them, used to having them pointed directly at him. He was The Lord of Bloodshed, after all. That didn’t stop Nesta, who’d been going to the gun range long before feds ever dumped her in this swampy nowhere town. 

Kill him and be done with it.

“Then why were you on your knees last night, Nes?” Cassian whispered, those hazel eyes glittering with amusement. “You had my cock in your mouth. I didn’t even have to ask.” “What happens in the bedroom and what happens out here are two separate things, Cass,” was all Nesta could think to say in response. She really was sorry, in that regard. She knew he didn’t see it that way. 

Cassian shook his head, the loose ends of his wavy, dark hair brushing those muscular shoulders. “I’ll find you.” “You’ll be dead,” she replied, willing the words to be true.

“You can’t kill me and we both know it,” Cassian told her. She hated that he was right, just like she knew that if she didn’t, he would hunt her down. This was personal, now—beyond the lies she’d told on her sister's behalf.

It didn’t matter. Rhysand had found them and Nesta needed to get to Elain before something horrible happened. Then they’d find Feyre and pray Rhysand hadn’t gotten to her first.

“I’m sorry,” Nesta whispered before she pulled the trigger. Cassian howled, crumpling to the ground. He wasn’t dead—just wounded. She’d shot him in the leg. 

Nesta turned, knowing she only had minutes to put distance between them before Cassian rallied, caught her, and did god knows what to her. He looked enraged as she made her way toward the front door.

“This isn’t over between us, Nesta! I’ll have you back by the end of the week!” 

She grabbed the keys to his jeep and made her way outside, fingers shaking. Nesta tossed the gun to the passenger seat before pulling her phone from her pocket. She had the car out of the gravel drive before she pulled out her phone, texting people she knew better than to drag into this mess.

Gwyn and Emerie were waiting for her when she pulled up to Emerie’s place.

“Start from the beginning,” Emerie ordered the moment Nesta swung from the blue vehicle while Gwyn held a shotgun in both hands, eyes pinned on Nesta. It was an odd moment, telling her friends—who were like sisters in a different sort of way—everything that had transpired half a decade before.

Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t turn on her, though. Nesta didn’t know how she knew that, only that it was true. 

And in the end, Nesta was right.

#cassian is just as insane #i think elucien is my favorite because its just one mans spiral into felony offenses

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds, also some verbal exchange, language

We are getting closer😊

Part XV | Part XVII

Several days passed since you wrote letter to Tamlin, but no answer came. Lucien didn't appear and you didn't hear any news about him either. You were worried and nervous.

Meanwhile you decided that you were ready for more memories of the past to be revived. You asked Rhys about it during one of your bonding times, as he called it. Rhys was quite curious about you and he also wanted to share his life with you. You were glad for that and looked forward it every day.

Your brother agreed and you surprised even yourself when you spontaneously hugged him in return. His violet-blue eyes shone with happiness and he was more than pleased to have chance to embrace you so firmly that you couldn't breathe.

You went over how naturally your relationship changed, how you changed. You felt the same, yet you were different. Empty space in your chest was healed, filled with your family, with faces of those around you. A lot of new emotions you didn't recognize swirled in your heart and it felt right. You thought you were fine all those years living in the forest, but only now you understood how unsettling you felt all that time. Without realising you were looking for something, something that was amiss, something you found with Tamlin. You finally found your peace.

Walking down the hall you opened doors of Rhys' office without knocking. He was already there, waiting for you. His gaze immediately moved to you, documents in his hand forgotten. Rhysand fleshed a wide smile and standing up from his chair he welcomed you with hug.

And he wasn't alone. Azriel was here too. He was sitting on the very same sofa as before, his eyes bright, lips curled into playful smirk. He looked relaxed, wings loosely rested behind his back, the shadows lazily rolling around. A few of them flew to you, playing with your fingers. It was lovely gesture that repeated every time the two of you met.

Your chest hummed with bliss.

As before, you sat down on the sofa, Rhys seated next to you, holding your left hand, Azriel gently touching your right one. This time it was much easier than before and took just about an hour. After your first sitting there weren't many memories left.

When Rhys revived the last one, he left your mind and opened eyes.

"Now only the memories of that night remain," he announced. He was like an open book for you, relief, anticipation, horror and anger all mixing together on his face. You understood every of those emotions. He eagerly wanted to know what happened the night your mother died, how you survived, but he also wanted to protect you, to give you time to decide whether you want to know it, too. He wouldn't push you and without your permission he wouldn't touch those memories either. "How do you feel?"

You considered your answer, avoiding looking to the right. Memories Rhysand revived this time, were from your last years of living here and they exposed a rather surprising thing. "I think I'm alright. It's less confusing than before," you lied smoothly while the heat reached your cheeks.

Azriel's thumb rubbed the back of your right hand, drawing circles into your skin. The gesture that was so familiar and intimate now. You ignored it looking only on your brother. "And how do you feel?"

"It's much easier when I know what I'm looking for and where to find it," Rhysand ran fingers through his silky dark hair. He definitely looked.. normal, not so pale and tired as last time. "Also there were only few memories left, so it was like taking candy from a child."

You snorted, honestly glad he's okay. Then you excused yourself and still without looking Azriel's way you hurriedly left.

Azriel was confused, but understood as soon as Rhysand looked at him with narrowed eyes and raised brows. He was considering whether to kill him or just beat him. Fuck, he knew. Azriel hurried after you.

You really hoped that Azriel wouldn't follow you, but your hopes were short-lived. You were marching down the hall to the staircase, hoping to make it to your room, when heavy footsteps sounded behind you. Big hand gently squeezed your elbow, turning you around. You were met with eyes of colour of warm honey. You immediately averted your gaze down to the floor. His broad chest heaved with sharp breaths and the awkward silence between you stretched.

"Why?" Azriel whispered. You pressed your lips together. "Why are you running from me?"

Your heart stuttered, sharp pain pierced your chest. The heat on your cheeks grew, now whole your face and neck was burning. You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Memories Rhys revived minutes ago flashed through your mind. You couldn't look at him the same way you did before. Not after finding out. But at least now it gave sense why you felt so good in his presence, why you hoped to see him and spend some time with him.

"I was waiting."

"Please, don't.." You voice was hardly audible.

"Y/N, look at me," his fingers closed around your other hand, pulling you closer. The smell of cedar and mist filled the air, wrapped around your heart and soul, caressing it tenderly. This close you heard his racing heartbeat.

You shook your head. Something like painful groan escaped through his pressed lips. He lowered his head so that your foreheads were touching. "Please. I swear I won't hurt you. I'm not expecting anything from you.. just.. Please."

Hole in your heart opened even wider and you couldn't resist anymore. You looked up into his hazel eyes. He was so close you could count gold flecks in them. He breathed out deeply through nose, silver lined his eyes. He swallowed hard.

"I dreamed so many times about this. About you being alive. When Rhys appeared with you in his arms.. this must be some kind of sign.. from Mother," he whispered urgently. " Sign that we are meant to be together."

You'd never seen him like this, so vulnerable, emotional, broken. He was always in control of his feelings, reserved. In your memories he showed his vulnerability only to you, but he'd never been so desperate. You had to curl fingers into fists to stop them from reaching for him.

"I missed you more that you can imagine. I thought we have future. We talked about it, dreamed about it. I was looking forward to it. And when you disappeared.. when we found.." He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. Whatever they found it must have been something really bad when it shattered him so much. "I thought I would go crazy. It hurt so much. Nobody knows about this. Not even Rhys." Tears rolled down his cheeks.

You were trembling. What he said about the two of you was true, you knew it now. Feelings from those times lingered in revived memories. You felt it, but.. you were different now. You weren't the same person anymore. Your old self cried with him, longed for his closeness, but your current self only pitied him and was sad over his loss. There was difference even you didn't understand properly.

His thumbs were again drawing circles into your skin. He didn't move, just stood there close to you, eyes closed, gently touching you. You didn't push him away, there was no need for that. He was respectful, not forceful. Instead you decided to give him time to recover.

After a few minutes his tears dried and he calmed down straightening, his eyes never leaving yours. He gave you a small smile. "I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. Really," you interrupted him. Azriel helped you so many times since you came back, you could do at least this much for him.

He was about to say something, when Elain appeared as many times before. Unfortunately she came in the worst possible moment when Azriel had no patience for her. He lashed out at her without breaking the eye contact with you.

"Go away, Elain." His deep voice was so icy she winced. Her eyes filled with tears. Nobody spoke to her that way.

"I just-"

"I don't care what you wanted. Leave us alone." She didn't move. "Fuck. Off," he barked at her.

She lost it. "Why are you always with this bitch," she shouted angrily.

Azriel's head flinched her way. You'd never seen him so angry. You felt the need to dash away and that anger wasn't even directed at you.

"What did you call her?"

Elain retrieved a step back and stuck out chin defiantly. Her voice was shaking slightly when she spoke. "She always gets in the way, pushing between us-"

"Between us?! There's no 'between us'!"

She gaped in disbelief, her doe eyes watering even more. "How can you say such thing after all we did?!"

"We did nothing, Elain," Azriel growled, his hands released you, his body fully facing her.

"Nothing?! And what about the time we spent together? All secrets we shared?"

Azriel frowned in confusion. "Secrets? I've never told you a single thing that somebody else didn't already know about."

You were slowly backing from them. Whatever was between them, they needed to talk it out or rather shout it out. Whatever. You didn't want to witness it. Fortunately Azriel was so angry and focused on Elain that he hadn't noticed. You were worried that the shadows would tell him, but right now they were as busy as their master. They swirled around like serpents, hissing at daring Feyre's sister.

You breathed a sigh of relieve when the door of your room closed behind you. You heard their angry voices even up here. It took hour or so until house went silent again. Somebody most likely had to intervene to stop them because at some point there were more than just two voices.

You curled into the armchair and trying to ignore them gazed into the garden. You had a lot to think about. And also you needed to decipher how do you feel about Azriel. This task was especially tricky. You knew you didn't love him, not as you did before. But still in a certain way you loved him. You needed to clarify that.

Several days after the incident you were strolling through the garden lost in your thoughts, your fingers played with pendant. Azriel was sent on a mission right after the fight was over, as you learnt from Rhysand later that night during the dinner, and you hadn't seen Elain ever since then, too. You didn't want to be mean, but you were glad for that. It gave you time peacefully think things over. However you still wasn't sure about your feelings for Azriel.

Suddenly a male's voice whispered somewhere from your right. "Under the oak." You yelped. Thankfully you were far from the house and nobody heard you. You looked around, but you were alone.

Latest events caused you forgot about the letter. However now your thoughts once again turned to Tamlin, your pulse quickened. You hurried to the secluded corner of the garden where the oak tree grew.

Lucien was already seated on one of the roots, leaning against the trunk. He didn't look good. His skin was unusually pale, damped with sweat. His clothes were damaged and soaked with blood.

You halted. "What happened to you?"

"Ah," he smirked, but it wasn't even close to his usual grin. "Tamlin's doing." He gestured to his clothes. "He was so happy to see me that he wanted to tear off my head," he grimaced. "This time he really almost turned me into shreds when I went to deliver your letter, you know. It took me a few days to put together."

"How serious is it?" You instinctively reached for what was left of his shirt.

"Don't," he hissed, but you were faster and now even stronger. There were deep cuts along his ribs. The wound was already partly healed, but it was still bleeding. You didn't want to even imagine how bad it had to be before.

"You need to clean it up and bandage," you looked around. Thankfully there were so many herbs in this garden. You washed two stones in a clear stream that flowed through the garden and crushed the herbs to mush. "Lift your shirt, please."

Lucien grunted something you didn't understand, but he did as you asked. Carefully you applied the mixture on the wound. Lucien hissed when your finger lightly touched raw flesh and shut his eyes closed. Then you lifted your skirt and tore off a strip of fabric from the petticoat. It was the cleanest fabric you had at the moment. You used the strip to bandage the wound.

When you were done Lucien exhaled shakily, letting the shirt fall back down. "Thank you, it's much better now," he rasped.

"What happened?"

"When he saw me he.. lost it. But I managed to deliver your letter. When I went there several days later to ask about the answer, he did this. He is like some wild animal and every day it's getting worse. I wonder if he still remembers who he really is."

Your heart painfully throbbed in you chest. "Do you think..?" You couldn't finish your question, but Lucien understood anyway.

He shook his head. "I think it's too late. We are losing him."

Lucien winnowed away soon after that saying something about his friends worrying about him.

You were suffocating. You curled into yourself between massive roots, pulling knees to your chest and rocking back and forth until humming in your head stopped and your mind cleared.

Time was mercilessly running out. You felt it in your bones. Tamlin needed help, urgently. You had to do something about it.

But first you had to heal yourself properly.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia

#english isnt my first language #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #tamlin #rhysand #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel #azriel angst #elain archeron #acotar fanfiction #acotar #sarah j maas #writeblr

[aboutthegir1]

Back in town - Azriel x OC

Summary: 50 years ago Daphne had left Azriel and Valaris without a word. But now she’s back, back to her old apartment, old routine and old job at Waltz. But What happens when the inner circle pays a wispy to Waltz one drunken night?

Warnings: non I think (?) my dyslexia

Type: Angst, kinda fluff at the end?

A/N: my fist time sharing my writing on tumblr (yey!!!) Please be kind and if you have constructive criticism please feel free to message me🤍🤍

——————————————————————————

Azriel pov

We were once again out, enjoying Valaris at night. We had gone out to eat dinner, then to Rita’s and now we were out on the streets seeking a new bar to go to.

“How about Waltz? Or Piano? Ohh we have to go to Piano!” Cassian said swinging down the streets.

“Noo I want to go to Waltz, it was to long since we went to Waltz!” Mor who was equally as drunk as Cassian said.

Rhys looked at me like he always did when going to Waltz was suggested, only he knew, he was the only one I had told.

There shouldn’t be a problem with going to Waltz, she had left about 50 years ago. Why would she ever come back.

“Come on guys, I want to dance!”  Mor swung out her arms and started to spin!

“I’m in if Az is” Rhys said and looked at me with eyes that told me that it was okey if I didn’t want to.

I sighed and answered “sure but I’m not dancing”

Cassian and Mor cheered as we all started to walk towards Waltz.

The premises looked just as I had remembered it, the high ceiling with the grand chandelier hanging over the dance floor and the tables placed by the walls. Lights shone in all colors over the dance floor and the slightly raised stage.

The dancers working at Waltz doubled as entertainers and waitresses.

We use to go here a lot after the war, it was a good distraction from the memories that haunted us all, and what was a better distraction then half naked females and males?

As soon as we sat down Cass orders us drinks and I sent out my shadows, I knew that it was a long shot and that she probably wasn't here. Why would she?

Daphne Pov

I stood in front of the mirror admiring how the dark blue dress hugged my body. I had returned to Valaris about a year ago but Waltz tailor still knew my measures.

“Daphne you're going on in two” the manager said as I passed by. I gave him a small nod as a response.

The fast clicking of heels and the squealing sound warned me that Emny was done. Emny was rather new to waltz, well she didn't work here before I left.

“Daph” She shouted as she entered the backstage area “Your not going to believe who's in the audience tonight!” 

No, no no no no no.

“High lord Rhysand and his inner circle!!!” She actually jumped in excitement meanwhile I tried my best to hold an equally exited mask up while I was fucking panicking inside.

Shit shit SHIT.

Okey, but maybe he wasn't with them? Yeah, Maybe he had been injured on a mission or even better he had died! No you can't wish that upon people Daphne.

My mind was like a rollercoaster going up, down and around all at once. He couldn't be here.

“Now Daphne” The manager screamed from the entrance. As I rose from my seat I swore I saw something in the shadows.

As I came out on stage I glued on a smile and waited for my music to start. The spotlight shown bright making it hard to see both the people in the audiences and the once dancing below the stage.

I tock a breath in and started.

Azriel Pov

“No fucking way” Cass said as the last one of my shadows returned, steeling my focus away from it and needing my gaze to center stage.

Just as the shadow whispered I saw.

“Daphne is here”

Her small tanned body moving viciously to the music as she danced. Her blond hair was loosely tied up and she wore the dark blue color I had seen her take of for me too many times.

He looked just like the last time I saw her, 50 fucking years ago.

Rhys seemed to recognize her too as he almost spitted out his drink and turned a questioning gaze towards me. I shrugged not knowing what to make of it.

I leaned back in my seat, watching her fucking dance with that body of hers like I had done countless other times. The difference was that the other times would have ended in her leading me to one of the back rooms or me taking her back to my apartment. But not now.

“I thought she left to explore” Mor asked after downing her drink. Nither Mor or Cass knew that Daphne and I had a rather complicated relationship. Rhys only knew because he had walked in on us one time at my apartment, witch led to me having to tell him.

And it was nice to have someone to tell the truth about why she had left.

“She seem to be back” I said, my voce low as I sipped my drink. My gaze never leaving her.

After she was done Mor and Cassian left our table to go and dance, leaving me and Rhys alone to talk.

“Soo” He stated.

“So what? I don't know what to tell you, you already know why she left” I sighed as a luring smile appeared on Rhys face.

“Yes but it wouldn't hurt to talk to her”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me and its too much in the passed anyway ” I argued.

Rhys shrugged and leaned back and watched a new girl preform.

Maybe I should talk to her, just to get more of an explanation. We had one fight and the just packed her things and left.

Daphne Pov

I put on my cote and said my goodbyes, it had been a long night indeed. First costumers who don't know how to keep their hands to them selves and then that he was in the audience. I hadn't actually seen him but he was to close.

As i walked out the back entrance it was pitch black. Only the stars and the moon was there to light up the world.

I started to walk back to my apartment when I felt it, him. I turned around facing the shadows lurking in the corners.

“You know you're really creepy when you do that don't you?” I said hoping that I was only talking to myself.

But he walked right out of the dark corners. He was just like I remembered him. Tall and muscular with his dark hair hanging down over his forehead. He just looked at me with his hazel eyes.

“Do you want anything Azriel?” He didn't seem to care about what I said, he just kept on walking till he stood right in front of me, towering over me.

He looked down staring in to my eyes. I had looked in to those Hazel eyes so many times before and now it just brought back all the memories. He use to meet me here, out side the back door and we use to walk back to his place. I use to spend my mornings in his bed, resting on his chest while he tangled his fingers in to my hair. We use to have it all.

“When did you come back” He spoke after a while, his voce low and raspy.

“Wouldn't you like to know” I said, not really coming of as confident as I had hoped for. I hated how small he made me feel.

He stayed quiet watching me. I tried to walk away but he just grabbed my arm and held me in place.

“You left, without saying goodbye, without telling anybody where you were going, without even leaving a note”  Azriel’s eyes darkened as he slightly raced his voice.

“Well what was I suppose to say, Hey Azriel what you said really hurt me and I think I need some time alone. You would never let me do that.” It burned everywhere. I hate how he mad me feel, how easy he made me mad or sad. Azriel just looked at me with his darkened eyes not saying a word, guess that comes with being a spymaster.

“You were too fucking controlling, I couldn't do anything. And then you had the audacity to even asked me to quit my job, my job that I for a fact love” I herd myself loud and clear how upset I sounded, how pathetic he must think I am. “Not every one is a shadow singer who can just hide away their emotions when needed”

I had said something so dumb but I needed to say it. I still remember the feelings from 50 years ago. The feelings of the whole relationship being one sided. That I was the only one who felt anything. He took a deep breath, I knew I had gone to far as his grip around my arm tightened.

“How do you think it felt when you came home almost every night and smelled of other males? Don't you think it drove me mad to think of what all the other males did to you? Of corse I trusted you but still, do you for once not only think about your self?” He almost shouted. Azriel tock a step closer to me and I could feel his anger pulsate.

“And don't you think it was hard for me? You left, you left me here alone after one fight. We had one fight and then you just left. I may not have been the most showing with my emotions but you gave up on us. You took the easiest way out”  His chest was heaving as he stoped for a second and looked down on me. I hadn't noticed till now that silent tears was slowly falling from my eyes. He had also seemed to notice, his gaze softened as well as his gip on my arm.

“But how could I have stayed Azriel? When it was so clear that you loved her?” My words barely came out as a whisper, I let him se how much it had hurt me and still did to see him. To know that what ever love he had given me, I had always shared it with her.   

“Daphne” He breathed like he was at a loss of words by what I had just admitted.

I had never told him of my suspicions, but it grew clearer and clearer to me over the years. All the small glances, all secret laughs. It became painfully clear.

“It’s not like that any more Daphne” He whispered, trying to take a step closer to me but I backed away releasing myself from his grip. “Maybe our relationship started like a distraction, but it grew in to so much more to me” 

“Don’t lie to me Azriel” I cried, I was breaking all over again. It felt like the last 50 years never happened and that I was back on square one. “I had just started to feel happy without you, everything was going back to normal”

He looked at me with his soft hazel eyes and walked slowly towards me, like he was trying to not scare me with his movements. When he stood right before me, he wrapped his strong arms around me. I tried to push him away, crying and screaming but his now nostalgic sent calmed my crying down to soft lonely tears.

“I haven't felt at peace since you left Daphne, you left me with a storm in my mind” He said as he rested his head atop of mine, my tears staining his shirt.

As I calmed myself, we started to walk away from Waltz in to the empty streets of Valaris. We didn’t say much as we walked. I told him that I had moved back in to my old apartment by the sea and he had insisted to walk me there. It felt familiar to walk the streets leading to my apartment with Azriel, but not normal, not like it use to feel.

“My neighbors told me the most disturbing thing the other day” I said as we entered the stairwell leading up to my floor, he shot up a curious glance at me.

“That a certain illerian spymaster came by nocking on my door every week or so for two years after I left” I wiped away the last tears from my cheeks as I stoped in front of my door.

Azriel just shrugged. “I had a lot of hope back then that you would just realize that you've mad a mistake by leaving and come back”

“Why did you stop?” I asked quietly as he walked closer, taking my hand in his. The feeling of his scared hand swallowing mine more welcoming then I had expected. The skin on skin contact burning me.

“One time I knocked at this door and a large male looked down at me” he said raking his free hand through his hair.

“What if I just had company?” I gave him a daring glare as I tilted my head to the side.

“Not your type, trust me” He smiled, this was the first time I had seen him smile in over 50 years. I could not help my own lips curling into a small smile as well.

“Then what is my type?” I challenged.

“Well, illyrian and with a large wingspan” He raised his eyebrow at means then leaned down to my hight. “And that male was neither illyrian or even had wings”

#azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #cassian #rhysand #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel fanfic

[daevastanner]

Eventually Pt 2

For everyone who read the same version of the ACOTAR series as me where Lucien has never been possessive or creepy

Meanwhile, in the river house garden…

“If one of us is no longer interested, then the other's opinion is irrelevant. We owe each other nothing, Elain. I owe you no more than you owe Lucien.” 

Moments later, Azriel’s words still played over and over in Elain’s head, echoing in her mind and stoking her anger. Not even the sight of her flourishing hydrangeas could banish her ire. She turned her eyes to her fidgeting fingers in her lap.  

Why was it that whatever Elain desired from her male partners they always wanted the opposite? With Graysen, she had wanted forever, but he had only wished for her to disappear. With Azriel, she’d wanted to lose herself and forget her troubles, but the shadowsinger had wanted to find himself and keep her. 

Then there was Lucien, he… 

Elain’s thoughts trailed off, pressure building behind her eyes as she once again found herself acknowledging the truth about her wayward mate. While he wanted to pursue the mating bond and Elain did not, he had honored her wishes. Unlike Azriel and Graysen, he hadn’t turned her away or asked her to change, Lucien had decided to wait it out. To fight for her, not with brute force or harsh truths, but with patience. 

In fact, Lucien had gone out of his way to find people and hobbies and fulfillment so Elain wouldn’t feel pressured to rush things. Not that she assumed that was the only reason he’d sought a new purpose. He was his own person after all, and likely sought out a calling for the same reason she did. For the opportunity to find out who she was outside of the life that had been made for her, rather than by her. Still, Elain was eternally grateful Lucien didn’t follow her around like a mopey puppy dog. She’d told him as much after the war with Hybern during their brief but frank discussion about how she wanted to move forward. 

It was a conversation Elain thought of often but never discussed. When they’d finished talking that day, both of them had agreed that the words spoken would remain between the two of them, far from the Inner Circle’s incessant meddling. 

Then Elain realized that of everyone she knew – not just the males in her life – Lucien seemed to be the only person who wanted her to have exactly what she wished for: a choice. 

She sniffed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she remembered Graysen’s venomous rejection. Then Azriel’s frank refusal to continue being her ‘distraction.’

Would anyone ever want what Elain wanted to give? 

“Elain?” 

Elain lifted her head, looking up from where she sat on the stone bench in her garden here at the river house. Standing on the patio, carrying a colorful parcel and wreathed by a lattice archway of ivy, was the last person Elain had expected to see. 

“Lucien,” she said, roughly dashing away the tears on her cheeks with the heel of her palm. She offered him a tepid smile. “What brings you here?”

Lucien took a cautious step forward, his riding boots creaking audibly. He didn’t match her attempt at a smile, only continued to eye her as though she were an easily startled animal. “I’m a little late, but I came to give my congratulations to Rhys and Feyre. I brought a gift for the babe.” 

Elain squared her shoulders, swallowing the lingering thickness in her throat. “Oh, well, Feyre is at her studio for the day and Rhysand has meetings all afternoon. It will be a few hours before they’re both available.”

The emissary gave a slow nod, his assessing gaze raking over Elain again. She felt laid bare, tucking her chin self consciously.

Lucien tucked the parcel into the travel satchel at his side, then adjusted the lapels of his emerald jacket, rumpled from travel no doubt. “I’ll return later then... You will tell them I called?” 

“Mmhm,” Elain said, averting her gaze as a chasm seemed to yawn open inside of her. 

Truthfully, she didn’t wish to be alone. She wanted company. Someone to listen to her about Azriel and her aching heart. But perhaps Lucien wasn’t the best choice for such a topic…

Her mate half turned, heading back towards the ivy archway that led out of the garden, then halted. He seemed to swear under his breath, before spinning on his heel to face her again. His expression was unguarded and slightly sympathetic. 

“Have you been crying?” he asked, frankly. 

Read the rest on AO3

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #acotar #acotar fanfic

[sirenarts]

MERRY CHRISTMAS✨

Here’s a little something something for the amazing @starswhogaze I’ve tried to make this has heartfelt and sweet as possible. There’s some greys anatomy and game of thrones references here that I know you’d love! So here is your Elain and Azriel garden rain confession!!

I love you.

Azriel was a mess. A complete and utter mess.

He sat on the floor of the training rings whilst ignoring the orders of his brothers.

Rhysand telling him that sitting down is not “training” and Cassian had only laughed at the idea of a sulking azriel that wasn’t in the mode to fight.

He was grumpy-yes. And kicking himself for the stupidity that happened during solstice. But it had only been a four days since.

Now they were hours from Christmas Day. Prythian surrounded by stars and drenched in rain. The city of starlight glittered with thousands of decorations and joy.

Azriel ignored his brothers comments. He quickly stood up and walked towards the empty balcony that provided much relief against the heat and sweat.

Everyday he’d been here. The farthest room away from the one female he started an obsession towards. Elain.

His most beautiful and yet challenging female. Since solstice, that fateful night he had to leave her behind like a lucid dream. Azriel had worked tirelessly to collect every bit of strength he had to stay from her.

Most nights he could get through a few hours with the help of alcohol. Which didn’t really help for the hunger that his body started to feel-.

Meanwhile, elain had been outside the house. Deep within the greenhouse she’d been working on.

After speaking to her sisters and construction workers. Elains garden had expanded into a three story mansion with a great open clearing.

The plant life had thrived so much since, Elains presence had it turned into a glowing oasis.

Trees that grew emerald leaves spread throughout the clearing. Cobblestone paths that glowed from the night sky and beautiful blue butterflies.

Blue- the same color as cobalt.

Elain told herself she’d get through her pain and her abandonment. But she never thought that cobalt would follow her around.

With the rain as it was, the garden was most definitely soaked. And Elain still needed to decorate the outside portion of the garden.

The trees provided a lot of privacy which worked against two very close shadow wraiths. Most days she’d tell them where she was and they’d leave her be to mingle with her devices.

But Elain was hurt. And most of her holiday joy had been saved only for her family.

Her view by the house really made it obvious she was outside. The glowing garden only having its strange magical blue light whenever Elain walked in.

Taking a few steps, the long cobble path and through the wisteria tunnel. Elain made her way to the only part of the garden that viewed the training rooms.

She could see into that balcony where an irritated Azriel stood. Watching the stars and clenching those scarred hands to the railing.

Somehow the male heard Elain moving. His eyes darting towards her figure that peeked through the greenery.

MOVE!

He shouted in his mind. There was no excuse he could make for the sudden jump over the railing. Azriels wings snapped open and a gust of wind aided his flight into a steady stream of air.

Elain heard that snap and the whistle of wind like a song. A song that sang when an Illyrian was in flight.

She made her way to the only open patch of the garden. It was no more than a five foot empty space in the middle of those emerald green trees.

Everything faintly littered with frost.

Azriels figured landed gently against the soft tamed grass. It was truly well taken cared of even.

He wore all black fighting clothes instead of the fighting leathers. He needed free rein of his body if he was going to do what he wanted too.

“H-how are you here?” Elain asked softly. The trees above provided no space large enough for a male with very big wings to enter.

“I saw you and followed your direction.” Azriel explained. From his position, he could only see elain through a few branches. But that didn’t stop him from turning into a body of shadows and sifting through the leaves with ease.

“You shouldn’t be here..it’s a waste of your training time.” Elain spoke. turning away from the male who already stood his full height.

“I’M SORRY!” Azriel shouted towards her.

To Elains shock she nearly covered her eyes at the power of that voice. Her hearing still being a strange mystery for all.

“Your what..?” Elain asked cluelessly. She knew what he was saying sorry too. She just needed him to talk. And elain wouldn’t get that if she forced him.

“I am sorry. For solstice. That night was never a mistake to me.” Azriel began. Elain taking steps towards him, the male focusing only on the beautiful flowing cobalt dress that was now soaked from the rain.

“I am sorry for my stupidity. I am sorry for getting so close to you. I am sorry for putting you in a position that made you feel unworthy.”

Silence between the two. But now they were closer- much closer, just a few feet apart still.

“I am sorry for every second I spent dreaming of you. For every minute I prayed you’d look my way. For every hour I tried to steal just so I could have your time.”

He took a slow breath, the rain drowning out the outside and cloaking them in a bubble.

“I am so fucking sorry that I have started to love you.”

Azriel spoke those words with so much honesty it sent Elain a wave of emotions.

The male she met when she was human first. The male that sang to her while she baked. The male she had dreams of helping start a family. Had well and truly said, “I love you.”

“You hurt me.” Elain started, striding for a closed space between them.

“You hurt me and I felt so lost when you left.”

Elain pulled her hair off her shoulder, Azriel only looking at the powerful doe eyes.

“You hurt me and for once in my life, I didn’t feel like some constellation prize.” She took a breath.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I couldn’t eat.”

“I couldn’t breathe, without you.”

“I tried so hard to understand what I did wrong, what I might’ve done to make you say this was a mistake-“

“It never was a mistake.” Azriel countered.

“Then why did you leave! Why did you leave me like that?”

Azriel stood silently. Listening to the rage full heart beats of the beautiful female in front of him.

“Rhys had saw us. He said Lucien was up stairs and if he had came down…cauldron boil us we didn’t know what would have happened.”

Elains eyes widen. The thought of her brother inflicting more pain than good to separate her from Azriel was infuriating.

“I had to leave because I was given an order. To stay away from you and to seek out other females for a realize. I couldn’t touch you, even when I struggled too at night.”

The pair stood in silence before a few cries of thunder stroke out. The lighting revealing the pained expressions of exhaustion on their faces.

“I would burn myself for you.” Elain spoke.

“No- what? No!” Azriel shouted.

“I would stay a thousand years in hel and in that cauldron if it meant I’d have you be mines.”

“Elain stop this-“

“I would risk my life over and over if it meant I could touch you and hold you and kiss you whenever I wanted too.”

“That’s enough Elain!”

“I wanted you to be my mate! I wanted you to be mines and I begged for the cauldron to make me yours!”

Azriel was gaped at those words. And Elain only continued before he could make a sound.

“I can’t stay away because it’s exhausting, I can’t function everyday without needing you in the room, I can’t sleep unless you’ve been near me. I don’t have peace unless you’re there.”

Elain began to shake. Began to crack. Began to reveal those words she kept so near and dear to her heart.

“I can’t love a male my heart doesn’t burn for.”

Elain pulled the front of Azriels work out shirt towards her silk dress body.

“My heart and soul burn for the male that saved me. That saw me for me. That rescued me, gods azriel you rescued me.”

Elain moaned softly before Azriel took her arms and pulled her forward into a hungry kiss. The warmth of their lips matching together with whatever fire that burned within.

The thunder rolled louder and the stars began to move. The garden grew more and more as those same blue butterflies swarmed them.

The garden was singing- no.

It was Elains heart that cried a soft melody. One that awoke a beautiful wave of joy and laughter and love from Azriels.

White tulips began to glow blue. Elains dress had somehow changed with that light, glowing more and more the beautiful siphon color.

And Azriels wings- gods his wings started to change. The red and gold membrane changed and shifted into floral patterns and some language only he knew.

That language was burned into Elains skin. On her chest showed a series of shadowy patterns and flowers.

But Azriel? Azriels wings in every surface revealed those same designs. A matching pair. Two hearts that burn for one.

“Stay the night, stay the night because I can’t keep using the sheets for help elain..” Azriel laughed as elain clutched to his form and began embracing him in the most dearest hug he dreamed of.

Elain leaned to kiss the heart that kept this male alive. While Azriel knelt down on one knee and kissed the torso that kept her standing.

“I vow my life to you Elain Archeron.”

“I vow every part of my body, mind, soul and heart to be yours.”

“I vow that every second of my existence is to love you and burn for you and you only.”

“I vow to have you satisfied and content for the years to come.”

“ I vow my future children to be yours.”

“And I vow my hand, my ring finger, to only carry the band that ties me to you.”

“My perfectly imperfect soul to only say one name: Elains”

Elain and azriel had stayed in that position. Her hands forming a shield over his head, while Azriel leaned his forward against the plush flesh of Elains body.

“And I vow to never let another soul hurt you and get away with it.”

Elain spoke strongly. Kneeling down to his level and hugging him tight.

“For I vow that the powers I have gained and taken from the cauldron, will be to protect you.”

“I vow to be your undying flame and true heart beat.”

“I vow every touch of your hand to ruin me for good”

“I vow to never let you go, no matter how close to the edge I am.”

“And I vow to never let my heart stop beating for you.”

Elain and Azriel looked at one another before saying vows the pair never even knew.

“Father”

“Smith”

“Warrior”

“Mother”

“Maiden”

“Crone”

“Stranger”

“I am hers”

“I am his”

“And she is mines”

“And he is mines”

“From this day, until the end of my days”

#elain x azriel #elriel #elriel month #elain and azriel #confession #forbidden love

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's For Suckers (4/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally...

Warnings: None

Thank you again to @itsthedoodle for continuing to beta my gift for @the-lonelybarricade!

Ch. 1 - Got a Feelin' 'bout the Headline | Ch. 2 - Beautiful. Smart. Independent. | Ch. 3 - Guts and Glory | Ch. 4 - Dead or Dreamin'

You can read the fourth chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore.

The plan came together with shocking ease. With Nesta's support, they'd hold a rally at Ressina's theater to give the newsies of Velaris a chance to vote on continuing the strike. Meanwhile, Rhys would lay the groundwork for a show of solidarity from the Illyrians. He might have been the farthest thing from popular in the Steppes, but the same couldn't be said for his mother. If the message came from her, they'd lend their support.

They didn't linger long after that. Feyre tried not to think about the hole she felt form in her chest as Rhys left. She’d been raised on the same stories as every other faerie in Prythian—she suspected what it meant. And even if she hadn't, Rhys had practically pledged himself to her.

This went far deeper than just the strike. Feyre knew that much.

She'd been on her way to meet with Nesta when talons plunged into her mind and held it. Feyre would have cried out if she hadn't been frozen in place, nothing more than a captive in her own body.

The voice that echoed in her mind was pure, ancient power. Not Rhys's. His father's.

Your presence is required at the House of Wind, Ms. Archeron. Immediately.

The talons retreated as quickly as they'd appeared. Once they were gone, Feyre wasn't stupid enough to head anywhere but the palace. But if the High Lord wanted to see her so urgently, she really wished he would have done her the courtesy of giving her a way there that didn't require climbing ten thousand steps.

Feyre understood she was there to be evaluated. The High Lord was a daemati—he could force her to obey an order without even lifting a finger. There was something he wanted to see with his own two eyes instead of rooting around in her mind for it.

And if Feyre was a betting woman, she'd assume that something to do with Rhysand.

Among all the headlines about Rhys's wild partying, impeccable fashion sense, and messy love life, there had been several stories about his willingness to openly defy his father. He was protected, at least to a degree, by the ancient laws of Prythian that prevented High Lords from killing their heirs to maintain power. But Feyre wasn't.

If the High Lord wanted her dead, she would be. If he wanted to make an example of her, they'd be meeting somewhere more public. Feyre supposed she was summoned to the House of Wind to be used as a pawn, and she decided she'd rather not think about what it meant that the High Lord might use her as leverage over Rhys. The reason didn't matter, just the outcome if she played her cards right. And Lucien was counting on her.

The High Lord was waiting at the top of the stairs. Not just waiting, really—peering down his nose at her as dark power rolled off him. Feyre stared right back. The Lord of Night had appeared on plenty of front pages over the years, but in person, it was strange to see so much of Rhys in the male before her. His eyes were the same striking shade of violet, but with none of Rhys's warmth or humor.

"So this is the rabble-rouser who's charmed my son," he said.

Feyre reached the top of the stairs. "I thought you called me here for something more important than gossiping about Rhysand."

If he was surprised she didn't deny it, that didn't show on his face. Feyre waited for those talons to spear her mind again. They didn't—perhaps once had been enough.

"Come along, Ms. Archeron. I'm sure a businesswoman such as yourself would rather not have her time wasted."

Feyre followed him through halls of red stone. As they walked, the survival instinct that had kept her alive on the streets urged her to pay attention and memorize the route they took. But it was difficult to concentrate when she was all-too-aware that Rhys lived here, too.

She needed to focus, not wander off in search of his bedroom.

They arrived at the High Lord's study before long. The room was richly appointed—Feyre supposed that the massive ebony desk or hand-knotted rugs alone cost more than a year's rent—but the painting on the wall drew her attention away from the lavish furnishings.

A family portrait. It must have been several years old; Rhys's sister was a babe in the Lady of Night's arms, not the woman who occasionally graced the front page alongside her brother. But even age wasn't enough to account for just how wrong Rhysand looked. The artist had rendered the royal family with flawless technical precision, but Rhys looked stiff. Lifeless.

Nothing at all like her sketch of him.

But there wasn't time to sit and stare at the portrait. The High Lord pulled a chair out for Feyre and gestured for her to sit before settling on the other side of the desk.

"I'd like to settle this matter quietly," he said.

"What matter?" Feyre wasn't sure if this was about the strike…or the High Lord was about to warn her away from the crown prince.

"You started a riot. After all the blood that's been spilled over the centuries to protect this city, I won't have faeries like you destroying it from the inside out."

A growl escaped Feyre before she thought better of it. "If your officers hadn't shown up and started—"

"Enough." A warning—Feyre shut her mouth, even as she continued to glower. He continued, "Your name was found on the manifest of a ship bound for the Continent, so I assume you're interested in leaving the city. If you attend the rally and speak against the strike, I'll provide you with a first-class ticket from Velaris to any destination you'd like and more than enough gold to sustain you."

Nesta might actually kill her if she said yes. Rhys would hate her. But an offer from a High Lord wasn't safe to refuse.

Feyre would make the best of it, like she always did.

"Release Lucien Vanserra from the Prison if you want my cooperation."

The High Lord cocked his head and studied her. "What exactly is the nature of your relationship with the Vanserra boy?"

"None of your business," Feyre spat.

"As High Lord, everything that happens in the Night Court is my business. But I'm particularly interested in why a political agitator who calls herself a High Lady is so fervently defending a foreign-born criminal."

Feyre couldn't imagine why the High Lord hadn't just misted her on the spot. He was practically accusing her of treason. A wrong answer could easily damn her—calling Lucien her best friend wouldn't be a satisfactory answer, but there was another truth Feyre could tell that no faerie would ever question.

"He's family. My sister's mate."

She could've sworn there was a flicker of relief in the High Lord's eyes. Just for a moment, before it was replaced with the same unnerving coldness.

"Then we have a bargain. I'll give you the ticket now as a show of good faith, and the gold and Lucien Vanserra's release will be provided after you speak against the strike at tonight's rally."

The tradition had mostly fallen out of favor among Velaris's newsies, but if the High Lord was backing her into a corner, Feyre decided to insist on it anyway. She spat into her palm then held it out for him to shake. "I agree."

To his credit, the Lord of Night spat in his hand and shook hers before conjuring the ticket and handing it to her. A pit formed in Feyre's stomach as the bargain tattoo appeared on her shoulder, somewhere under her shirtsleeves. The thought of what she'd just done to free Lucien made her burn with shame, but at least the High Lord had done her courtesy of allowing her to hide the outward sign of it.

Feyre stood to go. There were still so many preparations to finish ahead of the rally, and she had no intention of allowing the High Lord to waste any of her time. She marched towards the door without waiting for a dismissal.

Feyre's hand was on the knob when the High Lord spoke again. "Have as much fun with Rhysand as you like, Ms. Archeron. You're hardly his first. But let me be clear: nothing less than a mating bond will make you the next Lady of the Night Court."

Feyre let the slamming door speak for itself—there was still a strike to organize.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Feyre was busy making arrangements with Ressina and putting together a list of speakers. After news of the strike had spread, it seemed everyone had an opinion they wanted to express. Newsies from across the city kept dropping by or sending notes, and it was clear that Feyre had started something bigger than she'd ever imagined.

Even Rhys checked in several times throughout the day, a soft brush against her shields each time he asked for permission to be let in. Oddly respectful for someone who was normally so shameless, but Feyre supposed that if he'd grown up with the High Lord for a father, he knew exactly how frightening it was to have a daemati jabbing at his mind. He never lingered longer than what was necessary to keep her informed about the level of support he'd been able to drum up in Illyria—which was apparently quite a lot once he'd convinced the Lady of Night herself to speak out.

Feyre hoped it was enough to sustain the strike without her.

Everything had happened so fast; a part of her feared that whatever she'd set ablaze would burn bright, then die out just as quickly. The High Lord had near-infinite resources, and he'd chosen to back Pulitzer.

Feyre's stomach was churning as newsies began to fill Ressina's theater that evening. At first, it was just the familiar faces from the Rainbow, and she began to fear the promises from the rest of Velaris were merely empty words.

But then Nesta appeared. The south side newsies followed like an army in formation behind its general as they took their seats, Elain among them, too. From the other side of the auditorium, Feyre locked eyes with her oldest sister, who nodded once and didn't smile. It was the most approval she'd ever gotten from Nesta, and Feyre wished it wasn't about to be so short-lived.

But Lucien's freedom was worth it.

The theater went quiet as the rally began, and Feyre stepped on stage feeling as if she'd swallowed glass.

***

Rhys made it back to Velaris just in time for the rally. He'd hoped to catch Feyre before it started and wish her luck, but her hands were full with preparations. He didn't mind—at least not very much—not when he'd been pleasantly surprised at how readily she allowed him past her shields throughout the day.

He hadn't known she trusted him that much.

As he watched from the wings, it quickly became clear to him that something was wrong. Feyre's shoulders were tense, her expression pinched. At first, he supposed it was just unnatural for a shadow-wraith to find herself directly under bright stage lights or nerves from being the center of attention. But the words that came out of Feyre's mouth were all wrong.

"Sure, Pulitzer never should have raised prices without telling us first. It was a lousy thing to do. And we won't be pushed around, so we go on strike," she said, her voice uncharacteristically stiff. "And then what? He lowers the price to shut us up, we go back to work, and he raises it again. Don't think he won't. And if we don't work, we don't get paid. So please, be practical. If we disband the union and get the High Lord off our back, then Pulitzer won't raise the prices again for another two years. I say we get it in writing and take the deal. Vote no on the strike."

By the time she finished, the newsies' booing and jeers had drowned her out. Feyre stalked off stage, then disappeared into the shadows before Rhys could follow.

Her side of the bond was howling with guilt and self-hatred, and it was nearly impossible not to give into the urge to chase her down. Rhys wanted nothing more than to find her and pull her close—to hold her, then bring her the head of whoever had made her feel this way in the first place.

But Feyre didn't want him. He doubted he'd be much of a comfort, anyway.

At the very least, Rhys could still be useful to her, and if he tracked down Feyre, he'd come to her with information in hand. So he stayed in place and listened to the rest of the speeches as he watched the crowd, trying to understand what had happened.

If Feyre was upset, he suspected the culprit was Nesta, the sister that she'd never gotten along with. But Nesta took the stage next, and even Rhys was impressed with the way her speech directed the newsies' anger away from Feyre and back towards Pulitzer, channeling it into something that could fuel the strike. Nesta wouldn't be the reason Feyre changed her mind, then.

Through the rest of the speeches and voting, Rhys tried to puzzle it out. As a High Lord's heir, he'd been extensively trained in politics, but Feyre was the most pragmatic thinker he'd ever known. She knew that disbanding the union would only hurt the newsies in the long run. There was something else at play.

And when a still-bruised Lucien Vanserra crept into the theater, leaned over the back of Elain's chair, and surprised her with a kiss, Rhys understood the choice Feyre had made.

Rhys had been a prisoner of war—he'd give up everything to bring home a comrade he'd fought alongside. And so would Feyre.

He stayed just long enough to watch the votes get tallied and Nesta's announcement that the overwhelming majority of newsies had voted to continue the strike. Then he was in the air, flying straight towards Feyre's tenement.

He'd expected she'd be inside, but she was on the roof, staring out at the city. As he got closer, Rhys spotted a bag of gold and a folded piece of paper at her feet—and tear tracks lining her face.

"I'll shove you off the building if you're here to lecture me," she said as he landed.

Rhys leaned against the railing ready to dare her to try. "I'm here to ask who bribed you to make that speech."

"Your father didn't mention that we'd struck a deal?"

He'd assumed the High Lord was aware—Lucien wouldn't have been released without his approval—but bargaining with a lesser-fae was the sort of thing the High Lord considered beneath him to handle personally. The thought of Feyre in his father's crosshairs set him on edge.

"I wasn't aware you two were acquainted," he said drily, covering his surprise.

"I had the pleasure of meeting him today."

"If that gold is from him, then you should have twisted his arm a bit more. You could have doubled the amount, and he still would have released Lucien."

"It's not just gold. He gave me a ticket to the Continent, too."

Odd. He'd never known Feyre to be interested in travel. But then again, he doubted she'd ever been outside of Velaris, so perhaps it wasn't strange that she'd want to see more of the world.

"How long will you be gone for?"

"It's a one-way ticket."

Rhys stilled. The whole world stilled. Giving Feyre a one-way ticket to the Continent was as good as exiling her. And yet…she'd asked for it.

Feyre wasn't just leaving. She was running away.

"Why?" was all he managed to choke out.

Feyre's gaze didn't leave the city lights below them. While he still had the chance, Rhys studied her profile in the moonlight, committing the position of every last freckle to memory, just in case he never saw it again.

"Lucien is home. The Velaris newsies are united, and Nesta can negotiate with Pulitzer on her own. You've got the Illyrians on their side now, so the strike's as good as settled. I should get out of the city while I still can—while I'm not needed here."

"But I need you here." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Feyre stepped back. Her hand curled into a fist that told him she'd won enough back-alley brawls to give an Illyrian warrior a run for their money. Her blue-grey eyes flashed dangerously.

"Stop toying with me. Or I swear by the fucking Cauldron , I'll knock you off this roof so fast those wings won't save you."

Rhys blinked. "You think I'm toying with you?"

Something like doubt flashed across her face. Just for a moment, but Rhys caught it before her scowl was back in place.

"What else am I supposed to think?" she hissed.

"I've told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you."

"Bullshit."

It was all so absurd that Rhys let out an involuntary laugh. He stalked closer, utterly heedless of Feyre winding her arm up to strike him. Perhaps he deserved it—even now, he still couldn't bring himself to tell the full truth of what they were to each other.

"I haven't been with anyone in months, and I've spent every day flirting with you since we met. I thought I'd made myself clear."

They were standing close enough that Rhys could scent her—lilac and pear, the scent that had haunted his dreams for months. Feyre tipped her head back to meet his eyes. He tracked the movement of her throat bobbing.

"Then maybe you should do a better job of it," she said, suddenly breathless.

It was the closest thing he'd ever gotten to an invitation from Feyre Archeron. Rhys wasn't stupid enough to waste it. He leaned in and kissed her, too far gone to make it gentle.

He should have done this right, courted her like a prince who respected a lady enough to ease her into it. Rhys was dimly aware he was likely seconds from getting his teeth bashed in. But the only pain was her fingers curling in his hair as her lips parted and their teeth clacked together.

It didn't matter that the kiss was a hungry, inelegant thing. Feyre wanted him.

They broke apart, and before he could beg her to allow him to come with her to the Continent, she was dragging him back to her. Whatever words Rhys intended to say flew from his mind.

He hadn't even gotten a hand under her clothes, but he was already sure he could die from this. No one could possibly want another person so badly and not combust on the spot. Just the sweep of her tongue into his mouth was his undoing.

He had no idea how much time passed before she finally pulled away again. Rhys's head was spinning, but Feyre's gaze had never been sharper. He had the strangest sense that she'd just come to a decision.

"I'll stay a bit longer. At least until the strike is over," she said.

The thread around Rhys's ribs loosened just a bit. He sighed, letting his head tip forward until his brow rested against Feyre's. Her arms were still around him, and it was most at peace he'd felt since leaving for the frontlines.

There had been days—too many of them—that he hadn't thought he could feel this way again.

"When I told you I'd be with you until the end, I meant it," he whispered.

She cupped his face with one hand, sweeping her thumb along his cheek. Rhys let his eyes flutter shut—only for them to fly open at the tug in his chest, right behind his heart.

"I know," she whispered back.

He nearly asked her exactly what it was that she knew. But the strike could be over in a day, and if Feyre left him behind after that, this night would be all they had. Rhys wasn't stupid enough to ruin it.

So he kissed her again and tried to convince himself one night would be enough.

#feysand #acotar secret santa #love at first sight's for suckers

[busterswritehand]

You're Timeless To Me

-

Roughly 180 years after the events of ACOSF, Lucien looks up to find that he is surrounded by strangers. Meanwhile, Nesta realizes she has stayed still while the world around her keeps moving. Misery loves company, but these two can hardly make small talk.

-

Part 2

Nesta watched that copper-haired male with narrowed eyes. It was a week until Starfall - a week of enduring him when it should be Elain. Elain should be making small talk with Azriel, Gwyn, and Mor - not him.

He was supposed to have turned tail and fucked off when it was apparent Elain wanted nothing to do with him. Instead, he had lied to everyone. He lied to protect the mating bond between Elain and Tamlin, of all people. He lied - and she followed suit. They lied and then they both left. Her gaze steeled into fiery daggers as those thoughts festered in the front of her mind.

"Staring at me like that isn't going to make me drop dead."

Nesta blinked. Lucien was staring back at her - his eye flickered with an impish challenge.

She could feel her face begin to heat up, but Nesta simply huffed and stalked towards a table of appetizers. Wines, cheeses, fruits, meats, nuts, jams, and breads littered the table in an intricate display. She poured herself a glass of sweet red wine from the Spring Court, a present from her dear sister - an apology for not being able to make it.

She could hear the chattering pick up almost instantly, but it wasn't until a moment later that she felt eyes shift away from her. From her peripheral vision, she could see Feyre settle beside her.

"You could try to be cordial with him." Feyre picked around the spread, selecting bits of food and setting them on her plate.

Nesta did not respond. A mixture of pride and embarrassment. The thistles she tried so hard to trim always grew back eventually. A defense to protect herself and her sisters - not that they needed it. They were happy.

"It's not his fault," Feyre pressed.

Nesta knew that on some level. It did not change the fact that Feyre had slowly replaced Elain's presence with anyone but her. Usually, she could ignore it, but this was a slap in the face.

Feyre stared at Nesta, refusing to back down.

"Fine," Nesta sighed, "I'll try."

"Thank you," Feyre nodded graciously before approaching the small group.

Nesta watched from the sidelines as she always did, observing her sister's inner circle. It had grown to encompass her own friends, Gwyn and Emerie. It was not necessarily a bad thing, but it wasn't the same as when it was just the three of them. It wasn't hers anymore.

She watched as Amren trickled in, then Emerie, who greeted Mor with a loving kiss on the lips.

They all were like a confusing, elaborate puzzle, and she was a rigid piece that didn't fit.

"Cassian will be here tomorrow," Rhysand announced as he sauntered into the room. Nesta jumped slightly, not at his abrupt entrance, but at the mention of her mate's name.

She could feel that pair of eyes on her again.

"And Nyx?" Feyre reached out a hand to Rhysand. He took it, interlocking their fingers.

"Will be dragged here by his ankles if his uncle has anything to say about it," he sighed. "I swear that boy might as well have been birthed by an Ilyrian war camp."

A pleasant laughter swept through the group. Despite that laughter, Nesta still felt pinned down by prying eyes. When Nesta looked over, Gwyn and Emerie caught her attention. They waved her over. She shook off that gaze with icy steel and walked towards her friends.

-

The chattering lasted from appetizers well into dinner. It was too much chatter for Nesta's liking. She had always loathed small talk, and as usual, she was surrounded by it. One thing that stayed consistent was the constant blabbering about nothing at group dinners.

She would occasionally pitch in on the conversation at hand -whether for the sake of catching up or giving her opinion - but Nesta never said anything more than she needed to. She wasn't the only one though. Lucien only spoke when addressed directly, though he seemed engaged in the several conversations around him. Like he was trying to feel out of his place in the group. Not that Nesta particularly cared, but it was cathartic, in a way, to see someone else on the outskirts of the tight-knit group.

Soon dinner devolved into a rowdy house party, one last hoorah before Feyre and Rhysand had to be responsible parents again. It was a little much for Nesta who slipped outside for some peace and quiet. The night air was refreshing, and it would have been the perfect spot to relax if someone hadn't beaten her to it.

Lucien sat on one of the steps, peering at the city skyline against the mountains. He set his wine glass down beside him on the step. Gas lights reflected off of his red hair, making his silhouette glow. Nesta stepped back to try and bypass him, but Lucien had turned around before she could even set her foot down.

"Tired of the noise too?" Lucien patted the spot beside him as an invitation.

"I'm fine right here."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged before turning back to look at Velaris.

Feyre's words echoed in her mind. Try to be cordial. Nesta sucked in a breath and apprehensively took a seat beside the male. She set her wine glass beside his and looked out at the city with him. They sat there for a moment while she tried to find words.

"I'm sorry for earlier," she said stiffly.

"For the door-slamming or the threatening stares?"

Nesta whipped her head to see a smile creeping across Lucien's face. He was teasing her.

She held her breath as she replied, "Both."

He laughed. She bit her tongue.

"You've never hid your disdain for me, Nesta Archeron."

"I don't hate you," Nesta was stumbling over her words as Lucien raised a sarcastic brow. "I was protective over," He didn't seem convinced. She huffed, "Oh like you were ever that fond of me."

Nesta clenched her jaw in response to his smug grin. This was funny for him - like a fox that had caught a venomous serpent for entertainment. Her cheeks began to heat up. She grabbed her glass and threw back her wine. Except it was not her glass or the sweet red blend she had poured. It was bitter, earthy, like freshly tilled soil. She reflexively spit out the wine all over her skirt. That seemingly broke Lucien, who let out a hysterical cackle.

She pointed a finger at him and opened her mouth to hurl some insult at him. She stopped before a sound ever left her mouth. Lucien's head was thrown back with tears peaking out from the corner of his good eye. He was a far cry from the male that danced on eggshells around Elain for months on end. This side of Lucien was genuine. Nesta knew that she had gotten him all wrong, and it infuriated her.

"I'm going home," she stood up and began to walk down the front stairs.

"Come on. I thought we were having fun," Lucien teased.

"We were not," Nesta cut him off. She stomped down those last few steps.

"Nesta," he called after her. He made no real effort to chase her down or make her stay. Instead, he just kept being coy.

"Goodnight, Vanserra," Nesta warned.

And that was that. She was left to wander home alone in the silent night. His teasing laugh played again and again in her head.

#lucien x nesta #nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fanfiction #gwenriel #emorie #i do what i want with side ships #and lowkey the tamlin and elain mates theory eats #the drama alone #tamlin x elain #you'retimelesstomeacotarfic #lucnes

[nikethestatue]

Elain Throws a Punch

Summary: Elain throws a punch.

“Oh, the witches are here,” Devlon muttered under his breath.

It was a blustery, windy, ugly Illyrian day, the mountains offering little protection from the gale-force wind, and the late-autumn colours all gray and muddy, as above so is below. Dark slate clouds above, black mountains all around them, and thick mud below their feet.

That’s the mud that both Nesta and Elain were trying to walk through right now, their rubber boots getting stuck in the muck. Morrigan had winnowed them all here, dumped them in the middle of the camp, saluted and disappeared at once, leaving the four of them to face the grimacing and snarling Illyrians.

The four of them—Nesta, Azriel, Cassian and Elain—were here on behest of Rhysand, to put their case forward before the leaders of every Illyrain camp, to allow access to Ramiel. Whatever was beneath Ramiel needed to be investigated, and yet, Rhys couldn’t just let them go there. No, no. Every snarly Illyrian had to be involved in the process!

Nesta was grumbling and cussing under her breath all morning, as they were getting ready and Elain was squeezing her generous curves into some leathers. Nesta’s were too small on her. Gwyn’s too tight and too long. By the time Mor arrived with hers, Elain was in a foul mood, sweaty and tired from pulling on too-tight trousers, trying to squeeze her breasts into cumbersome jackets, and deciding whether she should lay off the sweet buns for a bit.

She fit into Mor’s leathers, though the trousers were too long, but she rolled and tucked them into the rubber boots, which Cassian tossed at them, telling them not to think about ‘fashion’ but to be ‘practical’. At that, Mor made a face. Azriel, meanwhile, watched Elain strut in tight leather, his gaze that of a hungry wolf.

“Calm down, brother,” Cassian smirked like an asshole, squeezing the shadowsinger’s shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

“Naw, now. Don’t get testy.”

“Why are you talking?” Azriel snarled under his breath.

Cassian made a locking motion at the corner of his laughing mouth and ‘tossed away the key’ over his shoulder.

“Ain’t nobody talking,” he shrugged innocently.

Elain kept fidgeting with her straps, twisting and turning, and Azriel came over and gently patted her shoulder.

“You look good in leathers,” he offered her a tight smile.

She glanced at him and snorted, “I look like a pig with a saddle!”

He chuckled and asked, “Ready?”

“As ready as I will be,” she took his large, warm hands in hers and he pulled her close. She knew that there were risks involved with winnowing and that it was very necessary for him to hold her like that. Close to his chest.

Now, here they were, in front of twelve Camp Commanders of Illyria.

Being called ‘witches’.

Nesta simply jutted out her chin and strode forth, as if they weren’t there and as if she didn’t hear what they whispered. They always called her a ‘witch’. She wished that she was. Frankly, Elain was more of a witch, well with all the herbs and the potions that she’s been learning to make. The potions were mostly for healing, but Nesta knew that some were for male sexual prowess, and others were to increase or decrease fertility or sexual urges. It amused Nesta that Elain was the one people went to for their sexual questions and needs. Elain never spoke of it, citing ‘confidentiality’.

They were ushered into a vast hall, built of sturdy timber and heated by a fireplace big enough to hold a wagon and a pair of oxen.

And then the negotiations began. Problem was…out of the four of them, at least three were not very good negotiators.

Nesta just sat in stony silence, glowering at everyone, her eyes turning progressively more silver and therefore freaking everyone out.

Azriel was just as talkative, and definitely gave off unfriendly vibes, his massive arms folded over his chest, a look of angry disdain marring his features.

“We can just murder them all,” he proposed at one point, whispering to Elain, though Cassian heard it too.

Cassian was an impatient negotiator. He was probably the most reasonable, perhaps the most understanding, but he didn’t want to suffer Illyrian fools and their superstitions.

“Nothing will happen!” he kept arguing.

The older Commanders were yelling and saying that ‘Illyria will fall if Ramiel is breached!’

Maybe it should, Azriel muttered, earning a shove from Elain.

“I agree with Az,” Nesta offered.

Elain stood up and said, “Gentlemales! Dear sirs!”

And was promptly ignored.

“Fucking ‘dear sirs’!” Azriel tossed, shaking his head, his siphons glowing a dangerous shade of cobalt.

Elain put her hand on his forearm and squeezed lightly, imploring,

“We don’t need a mass murder here,”

“Don’t we?” Nesta piped in unhelpfully.

“Nesta!”

“Nesta what?” her sister hissed. “They aren’t listening to reason! They certainly aren’t listening to you!”

“It’s alright,” Elain argued peaceably, trying to remain calm, though anger was bubbling beneath her skin.

“Perhaps we should resume the negotiations tomorrow,” she proposed.

The Commanders got up from their chairs and benches and filed out of the hall, muttering and cursing between each other.

Elain and the rest of her group followed them and in a last ditch effort to build rapport, Elain inquired politely,

“Shall we join you for the evening meal?”

Commander Iron Tooth—because he had an iron tooth—turned to her and sneered,

“As if we would break bread with you lot! We are pure bread, well-born Illyrians, who hail from Enalius himself! If you think that we would drink mead and eat meat with two low born bastards, you have lost your mind, witch!”

Elain stopped in her tracks, her cheeks aflame, sweat trickling down her back.

“Pardon me?”

“Pardon is given,” Iron Tooth smiled a wide smile. “Those two,” he nodded towards Cassian and Azriel, “are nothing but two of Rhysand’s puppets. I should’ve known they’d be crawling back here—Cassian especially. When Rhysand came back from Under the Mountain, I shoulda known that Cassian would be given all the powers over Illyria, knowing that he thinks that the sun shines outa Rhysand’s ass!”

No one knew how it happened.

No one saw.

But Elain Archeron, the gentle flower grower, fisted her hand and threw a vicious punch at Iron Tooth’s mouth.

His iron tooth, his pride and joy, flew right out of his jaw and landed with a clunk on the floor.

“Petal!” Cassian cried out with pride, his eyes alight with happiness.

Nesta smirked a satisfied smile.

“Aww, fuck!” Elain cursed, shaking her hand.

Azriel stepped forward and ordered, “Back it up’ seeing how the other commanders lurched towards the wailing Iron Tooth, who was holding his mouth, groaning and grunting dramatically, as blood poured on the floor.

“You’d think I broke his nose,” Elain shrugged innocently.

“Who taught you to throw a punch?” Nesta wondered.

Elain smiled and said,

“Your mate taught me.”

And Cassian grinned.

#cassian #elain #azriel #my fanfic #nesta #nessian #elain throws a punch #my writing #elriel #acotar fanfiction

[prythianpages]

Dandelions | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: Feyre invites you to Rita's and you drink more than you can handle. Good thing your loving mate is there to take care of you.

warning: implied smut in the beginning, drinking, some fluff

a/n: this is based off this request. Thank you so much for sending! Hope you like it! I tried to incorporate a little bit of everything  ♥️ I feel like this can be read as a stand alone imagine. If you're interested in reading more of Az x witch reader, you can find the masterlist here.

**

“You’re staring.”

Your tone dances on the edge of light teasing as you meet Azriel’s gaze through your vanity mirror. You hook your earrings on and turn, lips curving up into a sly grin.

Azriel doesn’t look away. He’s sitting on the bed and uses his elbows to prop himself up as he leans backwards. His hazel eyes drink you in like a man who’s been deprived of water, appreciating every inch and curve of your form in that short dress of yours.

“How can I not when you’re dressed like that?”

“Like what?” You ask innocently. You miss the incredulous look he sends your way as you bend over to clasps the straps of your heels, inadvertently giving him a lovely view of your breasts.

 You’ll be the death of him, he thinks as he sucks in a sharp breath, wondering if he could convince you to stay home tonight. It’s been a month since you accepted the mating bond and the urge to have you and keep you by his side at all times is insatiable.

You struggle with the clasps of your heels, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Azriel rises from the bed and kneels down in front of you, clasping the straps with a graceful ease. His touch lingers on your ankles and he’s well aware of the inviting heat of your body. So are his shadows. They eagerly slither up your legs.

“Thank you.” 

“Of course,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your calf and then another, following after his shadows. His gentle touch both comforts and thrills you. He smiles against your skin when he feels your skin tingling and tightening with goosebumps. 

“Az,” you protest but the small moan that escapes your lips when he kisses his way up to your thigh betrays you. “We’re going to be late.”

“They’re not going to care or notice.” Azriel replies, reluctantly accepting that there’s no way he can convince you to stay in tonight. You’ve barely seen Feyre and tonight was all you could talk about the past couple of days. But he knows he can convince you to stay home just a while longer so he pulls away from your thighs briefly.

The look he gives you as he gazes up at you is downright sinful and you’re melting into his promising warmth.

**

Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a dance of vibrant colors over the grand venue. Laughter and animated conversations weave through the air along with the pulsating beats resonating from the dance floor. Your smile widens when you spot Feyre and you’re tugging Azriel along with you.

“You’re late!” Feyre quips, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry, I got a little held up,” you reply and then turn to Azriel with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, your eyes silently screaming: “I told you so.”

“I’m not sorry.” Azriel says, wearing a pleased look and you smack his arm in response, prompting a laugh from Feyre.

“Az, my man!” Cassian greets and the liquid in the glass he’s holding spills over slightly.

The two of you are being split into different directions. Cassian, with a playful grin, tugs Azriel to the table they reserved for the night, where Rhysand and Amren sit. Meanwhile, Feyre excitedly guides you toward the dance floor. You ask her where Elain is, noticing she’s the only one missing from your group but she tells you her sister is the one watching Nyx for the night along with Lucien.

Mor, already holding a drink in hand, offers it to you with a wink. You take a sip and immediately grimace at the bitter taste, making her laugh. But she insists for you to chug so you do and before you could dwell on the burn of the harsh liquid in your stomach, Nesta is spinning you into a dance. 

**

Azriel watches you, his eyes alight with a tender affection that paints a soft glow in their hazel depths. A subtle, contented smile graces his lips. You’re laughing and smiling as you dance with the girls–a playful exchange of twirls and spins. 

The dress you’re wearing is a delicate cascade of yellow, reminiscent of dandelions in a sunlit meadow and as you twirl and raise your arms, the material of your dress rides up your thighs. He takes pleasure in knowing that if your dress rode up further, it’d reveal the marks he left on your skin earlier.

Rhysand chuckles. He doesn’t need to read Azriel’s mind to know what’s on his mind and as if caught red handed, Azriel turns to his friends.

“Like you weren’t the same way with Feyre,” Cassian retorts playfully.

“As were you, boy.” Amren rolls her eyes. “All of you but I will say that I am surprised Azriel is handling tonight so well.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

With a mischievous glint in her silver eyes, Amren simply raises her glass in your direction and Azriel follows. You’re still dancing with the girls, oblivious to the greedy eyes on you. They linger longer than he likes and when a group of high fae approach you, his shadows are discreetly darting to you while one remains. It curls around his ear and whispers to him and he catches snippets of your conversation. They’re thanking you for a potion they bought from you and he allows himself to relax. But only a little.

“I can’t keep up with her.” Feyre breathes heavily and Rhysand welcomes her to his lap, chuckling at her.

“Your mate is popular.” Nesta comments, smirking when she catches the glare Azriel sends her way.

Azriel lost count of the amount of drinks you’ve had but he knows you're captured in a spell of euphoric bliss when you’re swaying more than usual and the hair you had tied up is now loose around your shoulders. Mor is still with you and to his dismay, so is the small group of high fae that had approached you. 

Although he knows Mor is a friend, he can’t help the unsettling feeling in his stomach when she rests her hands on your waist because you’re his and the primal instinct to make his claim and remind everyone of it is strong. He knows it’s the bond and he reminds himself of this when you lean into Mor with a smile. It’s when a dark haired female comes up behind you and her touch lingers longer than needed and brushes in places it shouldn’t that the unsettling feeling slithers into his heart like a green serpent and he loses it.

**

“Azriel!” You gasp happily and throw your arms around his neck.

Azriel steadies you, placing a hand at your waist in a possessive manner. His attention is on the dark haired female. You’re oblivious to the way his gaze darkens and his eyes narrow at her in a silent warning but you’re not oblivious to the tightening of his muscles.

 You rest your hands on his chest, a slight pout on your face.  “Why are you so tense?”

 “Because she was looking at you like she wanted to fucking devour you.”

 “Who?” You pull away slightly to look up at him. Your eyebrows knit together at the bitterness of his tone, even though it’s not directed at you. Then, a laugh escapes from you because the only ones you were dancing with were Mor and the female you just made friends with. “Az, she’s just a friend! Let me introduce you.”

When you turn around, your friend is nowhere in sight. “She was just here…” you murmur with a small frown.

Mor snorts besides you. “y/n, sweetie, she was definitely hitting on you.”

“Oh.”

“I need another drink,” Mor says suddenly. She pats Azriel’s shoulder playfully as she heads toward the bar. “She’s all yours now.”

You’re gleaming with delight at Azriel when he looks back at you. “You were jealous.”

“And that amuses you?” He huffs, pulling you closer to him.

“Yes,” your hands toy with his dress shirt. The uppermost buttons on his dress shirt were left undone and with a bite of your lip, you deviously unbutton more. Your hands are slipping under his shirt with easier access and caressing his chest, following the intricate pattern of his tattoos. A wave of heated desire courses through him at your touch. 

“I find it kinda hot. You’re hot. Like really, really hot.”

A flush of warmth paints his cheeks and he’s thankful for the dim lighting. He stands there, with you still in his arms, momentarily speechless because he knows those words would never escape from your sober, bashful lips.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, a smile curving his lips when you flutter your eyelashes at him in response. Amusement dances in his eyes. “Like really, really drunk.”

You poke a finger at his chest. “Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

The lively tempo of the upbeat music gracefully yields to a more intimate melody. As the first notes echo through the air, your mouth parts in delighted surprise.

“I love this song! Dance with me?”

The excitement in your voice is contagious and before Azriel can respond, you’ve already taken matters into your own hands as they grasp for his. You place one at the small of your back and entwine your fingers with the other.

“I put a spell on you."

"Because you’re mine.”

Your movements are clumsy but Azriel adjusts and guides you effortlessly. The grin on your face deepens as he twirls you, the music weaving a spell around both of you. “Mine, mine. All mine.” You sing to him, your voice joining the rhythm of the song.

As the final notes linger in the air, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “All yours,” he confirms with a loving smile.

You nestle your head onto his shoulder, breathing softly onto his neck. You’re the one who breaks the tender spell of the moment. With a wicked gleam in your eye, you nip at the spot you know is extremely sensitive and his body shudders beneath your bold move.

“y/n.”

You giggle when you see that your lipstick left its imprint on his skin and Azriel senses that tonight will be a long one.

**

As the night unfolds, more people approach you to thank you for your elixirs and advice. Some of them are your regulars and you excitedly introduce them to Azriel and then they’re buying you both shots. It’s nearly a miracle when he manages to bring you back to the table. You sit on his lap and drape an arm around his neck and he tucks you into his side.

“Is the room spinning or is it just me?” You say as you lazily brush a hand down his exposed chest. “Or is it you, my pretty?”

Unlike the lighting on the dance floor, the chandelier hanging above the table bathes you all in a bright glow, highlighting the blush on Azriel’s flustered face. Laughter erupts from Cassian and Rhysand and Feyre breaks into an amused smile. Until now, she was the only one aware of your flirty nature when drunk...because when you would drink together in the Spring court, she’s been on the receiving end of it.

Shadows are pushing your drink in front of you away from you, replacing it with a glass of water instead. Your fingers are toying with the buttons on his shirt again. “This is such a nice outfit,” you murmur.

“Thank you.” Azriel replies, bringing his drink to his lips.

You lean into his ear to whisper. “It’d look even better if it were on my bedroom floor.”

Azriel nearly chokes on his drink. Water splashes onto Cassian, who sits beside him. He glances between you and Azriel. He takes note of the deepening of Azriel’s blush and then the satisfied smirk on your face.

“Drink some water, y/n.” Azriel says in a slightly breathless, unusually ruffled rush. A wave of relief comes over him when he brings the drink in front of you to your lips and you don’t protest.  “You sound a little thirsty.”

“Only for you.”

“Azzy, I’m feeling a little thirsty too.” Cassian teases. He can’t help himself and leans in toward his friend, playfully batting his eyelashes at him.

You’re suddenly enveloped in a sea of green and the unwelcome visitor that had come upon Azriel earlier is now knocking on your door.  You don’t like how close Cassian is to Azriel. Your mate. He’s yours and only yours.

“Back off.” You nearly growl.

“Or what?” Cassian challenges, ignoring the kick Nesta gives his leg under the table in warning.

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble–”

“Hey Az, your mate is putting a curse on me.”

“I’m her mate, not her master,” Azriel replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “y/n is free to do as she pleases.”

He knows you well enough to know that the words you are spewing are nothing but nonsense. A means to scare Cassian and he takes delight in the flicker of panic he sees flash in his friend's eyes.

“Can you at least tell her to stop staring at me like that?” Cassian nearly whines, avoiding your eyes when they darken at him.

When Azriel turns to you, your eyes are back to normal and softened with a sweetness that melts his heart. “I’m not doing anything,” you say coyly and Azriel finds the pout on your face unbearingly adorable. 

“Stop being a baby, Cas.”

**

Azriel nearly has to drag you out of Rita’s. There’s only so much teasing and flirting he can take from you and he welcomes the cool breeze of the night as soon as you both step outside. With a sigh, he effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, love.”

He pauses at the giggle that escapes from you. “What is it?”

“I have a perfect view of your ass from here.”

Azriel shifts you from being over his shoulders to cradling you gently in his arms instead. You hum in content and raise your hand to brush against the face you adore so much. “Still a lovely view.”

“Better I hope?” He quips.

“I don’t know,” you muse with a teasing gleam in your eye. “Your ass is pretty nice too.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow.” Azriel huffs a laugh as he takes you home.

He’s grateful that you live only a couple of blocks away from Rita’s. He’s opening the door to your home only a couple minutes later, greeting your cat, Binx, who is lounging on your couch with a smile. Binx’s curious eyes take in your state and Azriel swears the cat winks at him.

Azriel carries you all the way to your room, using his foot to nudge the door open. He carefully places you on your bed before turning to the set of drawers. He grabs some clothes for you both to change into and when he turns to face you again, you’re curled onto your side and snoring softly.

His heart warms at the sight.

He gently slides your dress off of you, replacing it with something comfier--one of his shirt’s. He unclasps the straps of your heels and then removes your earrings. He wipes away your makeup with a dampened towel, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’d wake up with irritated skin.

Finally, after making sure you’re comfortable, he slips under the blankets. You stir and although your mind is hazy from the alcohol and drowsiness, your body still seeks out the comfort of his warmth.  

“I can’t believe you're really all mine.” You murmur softly as you cuddle up to him.

He buries his head into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender he’s so fond of. He closes his eyes and smiles. He still can’t believe you’re all his either.

**

Another glorious morning greets you, the sun glaring brightly through your thin curtains. Your mouth feels extremely dry and a thin layer of sweat forms over your skin. The arm around your waist tightens in response to your movement. You’re shifting in the bed, turning to face Azriel.

His eyes are closed yet the subtle upward curve of his lips confirms he’s awake. “Good morning, love.”

“There’s nothing good about this morning,” you groan. 

Your entire body is aching and as you stretch your sore muscles, a sudden wave of nausea hits you like a ton of bricks. You're slipping under Azriel’s hold and running to your bathroom. He follows after you, brushing your hair away and holding it back for you as you hurl all the contents from your stomach.

You lean your head against the marble cabinet near the toilet, reveling in its cool touch. “Please never let me drink like that again.”

“I quite liked drunk y/n,” Azriel teases as he helps you up to your feet. He hands you your toothbrush and leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. “She’s bold.”

All your blood rushes to your cheeks. You meet his gaze through the mirror. Bold can mean many things and as you try to remember the events from last night, you’re coming up blank. “What did I say?”

“You nearly cursed Cas,” Azriel replies. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he says his next words but the mischief reflected in his eyes contradict his casual demeanor. “And you said my ass is nice.”

 Azriel watches you, savoring the role reversal as now you’re the one in a flustered state. You push past him with your hands on your face–a futile attempt to cover your mortified expression. You walk back into your bedroom.

“Why are your clothes all over the floor?”

Azriel normally places his worn clothes in the hamper that sits in the corner of your room but in his haste to take care of you, he carelessly threw them on the floor. He smirks, taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to tease you further.

“Because you said they’d look better there than on me.”

“Fire burn and cauldron boil me.”

**

a/n: when writing this, I was listening to the song I Put a Spell on You and I found that there's another version of the song that Austin Giorgio sings called You Put a Spell on Me and it's very Az coded in this au. Imagine him singing it you 😩

tagging: @fxckmiup

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x witch!reader #azriel imagines #acotar x reader #acotar imagines #azriel fluff #az!dandelions

[astrababyy]

stans always say that antis moralize shit too much, bringing up concerns about the ic’s actions when it’s “not that serious”, but these are also the same people who will cry about how terrible tamlin and nesta are because he locked feyre in a house and nesta let feyre hunt.

meanwhile, feyre’s destabilized an entire fucking court and felt proud of that — which is not only a war crime, but caused the invasions of summer and actively contributed to the fall of the wall because she made the utterly dumb decision to destabilize the ONE court keeping hybern from his goal.

rhys terrorizes the vast majority of his court like the dictator he claims is jUsT aN aCt. he legit sold them all out to amarantha, letting her torture them so he could protect one freaking city that was already hidden from her view. he groped and debased feyre utm, and he twisted her broken arm and forced her into a deal with him. he is constantly lording his power over others, especially the other high lords, which is just freaking pathetic. he’s got no damn respect for others, clearly shown from his insistence on taking the book from tarquin instead of asking. not to mention that whole pregnancy subplot in acosf.

don’t even get me started on the rest of the inner circle. like, you wanna like them? sure, i don’t give af. im not gonna go around calling you an abuse apologist for liking rhysand. but don’t sit here and say we’re unnecessarily moralizing shit in a book about murderous faeries when, in the same vein, the author herself (and a lot of stans) legit does the exact same thing. like there is no world in which maas can stuff a moral scale into these books and not be a hypocrite without it being anything beyond the characters’ own spite. but guess what? SHE DOES IT ANYWAY.

so yes im going to keep talking about how terrible rhys is as a character. yes im going to keep talking about how much the ic sucks. and 80% of the time, idec when characters are horrible people, but when the author herself and the freaking fandom sit there and say with their full chest that they’ve done nothing wrong, that’s when im like ???no??? ESPECIALLY when they call other people abuse apologists for liking characters they constantly try to moralize like no just no.

so keep your stupid contradictory morality in these books idc, but it means that i am going to judge the absolute unapologetic fuck out of your favs.

#it’s not even like the characters themselves that i really care about #it’s more so the double standards behind them #like one of your mains legit tortures people #and the books choose to bully a depressed twenty five year old war veteran over that guy #like no that’s just not logical in any way shape or form #and even if it was biased povs #everyone hates tamlin even though this is the guy who prob took in a lot of refugees from their courts during amarantha #who worked his ass off to fight against her and get an edge over her #who never gave in against amarantha #like i can understand them being wary due to his shtick with hybern #but you’d think they wouldn’t be so outright disdainful without hearing him out first lmao #especially considering refusing Hybern clearly would’ve resulted in his Court being attacked and ultimately defeated #there’s no contradictions ever given that Nesta doesn’t suck #and idc how biased your POVs are #if there’s no proof that those POVs are biased #in that people called them out #it doesn’t count as a biased pov because it’s like every character bends to their reality #anti sjm #pro tamlin #astrababyy #anti rhysand #anti feyre #going on a rant cause acotar reddit is getting on my damn nerves

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Eight}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father.   Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war. 

A/N: Sorry it's been a minute since we've updated this one! I was out of town for a few weeks. Let us know what you think! Your thoughts, likes, and shares are always so appreciated.

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

It was just after breakfast when Cassian found Nesta sitting on the patio, reading a book. She seemed to be enjoying it immensely. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed as she flipped the page. Cassian had been looking for a moment to get her alone, to speak with her about pressing matters, and he figured this was as good a time as any. 

“Miss Archeron,” he said as he approached.

She jumped slightly, as if she had been fully involved in the world of her book, unaware that reality still existed outside the pages. 

She looked at him with a frown as she slowly set it down. “Lord Cassian.”

“I was hoping to speak with you,” he said, gesturing to the seat across the white, cast iron table. “May I?”

“It is your home,” she replied, simply. “You do not need my permission.”

Cassian couldn’t help the chuckle of pure disbelief that radiated out of him. Nonetheless, he sat and cleared his throat. “Have you enjoyed your visit?”

“You have a lovely home,” she replied, simply, looking out at the vast landscape instead of meeting his eye. “And, I must admit, my lord, you have been a gracious host. My sisters have enjoyed their stay immensely.”

Cassian noticed that she did that often - spoke on her sisters’ behalf but never on her own. “And you?” He pushed.

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line but she soon said, “The silence has been nice. I enjoy the country for that reason.”

Cassian understood. The city, although he loved the energy of it, could be loud and distracting. Perhaps that’s why he loved it. He never had to spend too much time inside of his own head. 

“Perhaps your sister and I will live here, then, and you may visit whenever you’d like,” Cassian said, and Nesta’s back straightened. “If, of course, Miss Archeron, I have your blessing to ask for Elain’s hand.”

Nesta did not, would not look at him. Her eyes remained staring at the green, rolling hills. Cassian waited patiently. He figured that Nesta Archeron was not a woman to be pushed.

Once the wait was over, however, he was only disappointed.

“No,” Nesta said.

“My intentions are—”

“I do not doubt your intentions, my lord,” she interrupted, her eyes still locked on the land in front of her. “But the season has just barely begun and I do not want my sister rushing into a marriage.”

“I would be a good match for Miss Elain,” he argued, sitting forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. “I can give her everything she wants.”

“Do you love her?”

Cassian stared at her and Nesta finally turned to meet his gaze. “My sister will marry because it’s what my father wishes her to do, but the one thing she’s always wanted is to marry for love.” The words hung between them. “So forgive me if you claim you can give my sister what she wants when you do not even know what that is.”

Cassian was typically incredibly sure of himself and quick on his feet, but even he hesitated. Nesta was not a woman to be trifled with. She stood her ground and spoke without a second thought if it was what she thought should be said.

“I have spent hours with your sister,” Cassian said, calmly. “She has shared with me the life she sees for herself. I can give her that life. I will treat her kindly and I will respect her.”

Nesta scoffed and Cassian’s anger took root inside his gut. “Do you truly wish me to believe that you will respect my sister?” She said, shaking her head. “I know of you, my lord, and with all due respect, I have heard of your reputation. You like women. You have seen your fair share of beds and, pardon my frankness, if you do not even love my sister how will you put aside such…such…” Nesta was getting frustrated. He could see it, and that frustration only grew as she said, “desires! You may think you want a wife, my lord, but I have known men like you. And, if you are not marrying for love, I know I cannot count on a faithful marriage, a respectful marriage. Forgive me, but I will not place my sister in such a position, not when she deserves better.”

This woman.

This insufferable woman.

She was almost enough to make him wish he’d never entered the marriage market.

“So unless I am in love with your sister, you will not give me your blessing?” Cassian asked, voice quiet.

“No, Lord Nazari,” Nesta said, picking up her book and clutching it to her chest. “I will not give you my blessing until I feel that you are worthy of it.”

With that, she turned, re-entering the house and leaving Cassian behind with her unfinished tea on the table.

He fought down the urge to cry out in anger, to tug at his hair and drag her back here and make her listen to all the reasons he’d be the best husband Elain Archeron could have. Most of all his loyalty. He could be faithful, he had no doubt. He’d never had a reason to be, had the opportunity to dally on the side and took it, with little thought.

But if his allegiance lay with one woman?

He would never betray the trust and loyalty she’d be putting in him.

His track record didn’t look stellar though, and he knew it.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian reached for the teapot and poured a cup with the remaining dregs inside. After splashing in some milk, he took a drink and looked out at the sunny day.

He would prove to Nesta Archeron that he could be a good husband, if it was the last thing he did.

<.>

Feyre did not sleep for even a minute. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And every time she saw him behind closed eyes, their encounter did not end when it did.

Her cheeks heated, even as she walked alone through the gardens. How could she have been so careless? The whole situation had been inappropriate. If someone were to have seen them, were to have walked in on them, their evening would have had an entirely different outcome. 

She had been irresponsible.

She had been careless.

Now, she was embarrassed. 

For the entirety of breakfast and lunch, Feyre had eaten with her eyes staring into her plate. She only spoke when asked a question which happened far more likely than she had cared for.

The worst part of it all was that she had liked it.

She had liked seeing Rhysand like that. She had liked getting close with him. She had liked feeling the warmth of his breath on her mouth, of imagining what it would have been like to taste him.

Even now, walking in the gardens, Feyre could not catch her breath. Her skin was on fire and she had to stop, close her eyes, breathe until thoughts of his fingers grazing her skin no longer occurred.

“Are you alright, Miss Feyre?”

Feyre’s eyes snapped open at that voice, knowing the face she would behold. Rhysand had just come around the corner of the shrubbery and was looking at her half in amusement, half in worry.

Clearing her throat, she curtsied and continued on, nodding once. “Yes, my lord, now if you’ll excuse me—”

She was almost around the corner when his voice reached her. “I didn’t mean to offend you last night.”

Halting, she turned back and met his dark eyes. Eyes that seemed impossibly darker in the daylight. “You didn’t, my lord, but it was highly inappropriate—”

He shrugged. “We happened to be in the same place at the same time after neither of us could sleep.”

“If you would let me finish a thought, sir,” she said, snapping her fan shut and advancing on him. “You were going to kiss me.”

His eyebrows raised, clearly not expecting her to be so blunt. “I had considered it.” The warm feeling his words evoked was forgotten as he spoke again. “But then I realized it would be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Hurt flashed across her face, her cheeks reddening. Her eyes found the ground as she turned and headed for the house again. “Good day, my lord.”

A string hand wrapped around her wrist. “That…came out wrong.” She froze again, didn’t pull her hand from his grip, but didn’t look back at him. “If I were to kiss you, Miss Feyre, and someone were to find out, we would be forced to wed.”

Forced.

The words clanged through Feyre like a knell.

“And that would be the worst thing, wouldn’t it?” She asked, before she could help herself, meeting his gaze. “To be wed?” 

To me, were the words she refused to add, but flashed through her mind. 

He knew it, too, could tell by the way his body tensed. His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. She still made no move to escape. 

“Would you have liked me to kiss you, Feyre?” He asked, quietly.

She was at a loss for words, swallowing harshly instead. He tracked the bob of her throat and then his eyes met hers again.

“You don’t want to marry the prince.” It wasn’t a question. It was a blatant statement, one he had no right to make.

But he was right. She didn’t. The thought of marrying Prince Tamlin, of being shipped off to Spring and likely end up locked in his castle to breed little heirs, title or no…

She shook her head.

Rhysand was watching her intently. There seemed to be a war raging inside him and she swore she could see the exact moment one side won out.

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Feyre,” he said, closing the distance between them. She held her head high, looking up into his face. “You seem to need a believable out from your courtship with His Highness. I am in need of a shield to protect me from the wolves of the ton.”

Feyre’s eyebrows bunched. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“The mamas, Feyre, darling,” he sighed, taking both of her hands in his. “I need a reprieve from their constant and incessant badgering. But you,” he stepped closer again. “You could be my saving grace, Feyre.”

Feyre blinked, registering his words all at once but not at all, all at the same time. “I’m not certain I know what you’re suggesting.”

His jaw ticked. “We will create a facade, a courtship that seems realistic in the eyes of the ton but remains nothing more than mere friendship. We will dance, we will promenade, and all the while I am not getting attacked by ladies and you are not getting attacked by the prince. It’s a simple solution to both of our problems.”

Feyre stared at him for a moment before barking a laugh, snatching her hands from his. “That’s absurd.”

Rhysand was not offended. He simply lifted a dark brow. “How so?”

“There is a flaw in your plan, my lord,” Feyre went on, and now she was pacing between the shrubbery. “If I were to accept this madness, I, the Diamond, would not be ending the season with a husband, now would I?”

The Viscount actually rolled his eyes, dramatically and with humor. “As you say, you are the Diamond. Of course you’ll get a proposal. Multiple proposals, I have no doubt. As the season comes to a close, I will step back and make way for the offers to roll in. My plan simply gives you a little breathing room until then.”

A little breathing room. Such a thought was lovely. There was a second fault in his plan, however. “Except I will be spending that spare time with you, my lord, and you do annoy me so.”

“And you frustrate me to no end,” he replied, “so it’s a good thing we have no intention of actually marrying at the end of the season.”

Feyre paused, actually thinking this charade through. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking up to find him watching the movement. “You truly think this could work?”

“As long as we play our parts well, which I have no doubts we will, I don’t see how it could fail.” He gestured around at the beautiful gardens. “You visited my best friend’s country home and spent time with me. No one would doubt that I charmed you while we relaxed, and it gives you a reason to reject that pompous princeling’s proposal.”

Feyre walked away a few steps, stepping out of the shade the two of them had been hiding in. She let the sun grace her face and turned up to bask in it. Finally, she turned back to him. “At least three dances at every ball, for the rest of the season.”

His dark brows rose. “Two,” he negotiated.

“Three,” she replied, opening her fan and fluttering it just beneath her chin. “All of the eligible bachelors must see me in your arms, my lord. That includes those that arrive early, those that arrive late, and those who are there the entire time.”

Pursing his lips, he nodded. “Fine, but one promenade week and one social visit.”

Feyre barked a laugh. “That’s just pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Rhys replied, face incredulous.

“Pathetic.” Pointing to the house and its owner within its walls, Feyre went on, “Lord Nazari visits our home almost every day and they promenade at least three times a week.”

Rhysand, to her utter delight, hesitated. “Fine. I’ll move it to two. But don’t expect me to stay too long for the social visits.”

Feyre, in a very unlady manner, rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Fine.” He held out his hand.

Feyre’s brows shot up. “Shaking like gentlemen, are we?”

“You’re a menace,” Rhysand muttered, and Feyre grinned as she shook his hand.

The deal was done.

<.>

“Azriel.”

Elain’s sweet voice floated from behind him as he sat in the sitting room, sketching. It was the first time she came outright and used his given name, which pleased him considering he had asked her to call him only Azriel at least a hundred times.

“Lady Elain,” he said, setting down his charcoal and wiping his hands off on his trousers, which he realized just after was not very proper. 

Her smile was radiant. “If I am to call you Azriel, you must call me Elain.”

As she sat on the couch across from him, he couldn’t help but notice how the rays of sun lit her hair up, how her eyes were molten in the early afternoon light.

He cleared his throat, but sat up and crossed an ankle over a knee. “Very well, Elain.”

He said her name as if it were a secret and it thrilled her. She was realizing she enjoyed spending time with Azriel, enjoyed how easy it was to be around him. He didn’t expect anything from her, didn’t push her to talk about things that, truthfully, she found quite trivial.

“What are you doing up here, all by yourself?” She asked, though it was clear he’d been absorbed in his art before she came in.

Cheeks heating, Azriel flipped his sketchbook shut. A metallic silver and grey thumbprint was smeared across the top, his hands still covered in charcoal. “Sketching,” he admitted. “It settles me when…” He froze realizing what he’d almost revealed. “When nothing else can settle me.”

She looked at him like she caught the misstep, like she wanted to ask what was wrong, if he was alright. But instead, she surprised him when she asked, “Can I see?”

Azriel looked down at his sketchbook before looking back up at her hopeful, curious expression. The second he handed it to her, she had it open.

“They’re not that great,” Azriel said as she flipped through page after page after page. “Although, I did just get accepted to the summer program at the art academy.” That felt like bragging. “Not…that that’s a big deal.”

It was.

Still, she said nothing as she studied each drawing she came across. 

“So,” Azriel continued, having nothing to say after that, but fearing the silence.

“These are beautiful,” she said, at last, looking at a messy sketch of Cassian and Rhysand sitting on the couch, sipping their magical tea.  “The day I met you, you got charcoal on my dress,” Elain said, laughing quietly, although she was not specifically speaking to him, just aloud. 

“I apologize, yet again,” Azriel said, his voice light.

That quiet laughter returned, and it was a lovely sound. “No need. I did not mind.”

He smiled, but she didn’t see it. She turned to the next page where she found a portrait of a woman.

Elain tilted her head to the side. “She’s beautiful.”

“Miryam,” he explained. “She works for Rhys. We’ve known her our entire lives. Grew up together. I feel it easier to sketch those I know. I can feel their personality as I draw. I feel it helps guide me.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Could you draw me?”

Azriel started, surprised by the question, and Elain must have seen it as hesitation because her cheeks turned pink.

“Not that-“

“It would be an honor to draw you, Miss-.” He caught himself, and Elain laughed, loud and bright. “Elain.”

Her laughter died but it lingered in her deep, brown eyes. She handed him back his sketchbook. “When shall we do this?”

“I have time if you have time,” Azriel said, opening his book to a blank page.

“I have time,” she said, voice growing quiet. “Where would you like me?”

“Right where you are is perfect,” he assured her, but then thought again. “If you could just move your hands…maybe so they’re not…”

Elain looked down at her clasped hands and laughed, unclasping them and holding them out, palms up. “Where would you like my hands?”

He set down his sketchbook and leaned across the space between them. “May I?”

Elain nodded, smile growing soft as Azriel took her hands and put one palm down atop her skirts, then placed the other one just on top. He took her chin in his fingers and Elain’s breath hitched as he turned her face, just slightly until the light hit her just right.

“Now you’re perfect,” he breathed, his fingers still on her skin.

She blinked at him, knowing she shouldn’t move now that he’d placed her how he wanted her. Realizing what he’d said and how close they were, Azriel cleared his throat, jumping back. “Forgive me, sometimes I get so focused on a piece coming together that I can forget to heed acceptable social niceties. Act undignified and all that.”

Elain’s eyes softened and her smile was demure and pretty. “If that was undignified, I think I may prefer you like that.”

Azriel’s eyes left her face as he flipped his sketchbook open again and found a blank page. Her cheeks heated as his gaze looked over her entire body, but it was not done in a leering way. He was taking all of her in, memorizing her form, and then his hand was moving across the page.

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. His eyes would move between his book and Elain, sometimes getting caught in her own gaze, while his hand flew. Twice, he retrieved a fresh piece of charcoal, needing the thinnest edge possible to focus on a tiny, but important detail. His thumb was shiny and metallic from where he’d used it to soften edges and fade the lines he deftly drew.

“I’ve never really been one to fit into the ton.”

His words were so unexpected, so quiet, that Elain jumped slightly when he spoke.

With his eyes cast on his sketchbook, she took the chance to really look at Azriel. She’d, of course, noticed he was handsome before, but now, she gave herself a moment to appreciate his hazel eyes, the green a little stronger than the brown today, and his full mouth. His lips looked soft, where they were parted slightly in his concentration. His cheekbones were high and his jaw was strong. Those sparkling hazel eyes looked up and met with hers.

And Elain realized she was staring.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why is that, my lord?”

His eyes narrowed, but he ignored her. “Because I was never supposed to have my title.”

Azriel had been the illegitimate heir to the Draeven line, a placeholder of sorts until his wife gave him a son. The child the household laundress had bore him after he’d forced himself on her was never meant to lead the house and rule the land, but his wife never conceived. Likely due to the same beatings and bruises he and his mother received from him.

And then the man had died before Azriel had even turned four, just a few months after his mother had been unable to recover from a beating so horrible that Azriel could still hear her screams. His horrible step-mother remarried, bearing twin boys less than a year after his father’s death. As he got older, he would have thought it a fitting punishment for the piece of shit who sired him, had his half-brother’s not made his life a living hell every chance they took. Had his step-mother not squandered their money away, claiming she and her new husband were acting as Azriel’s stewards until he reached maturity.

All the while, Azriel waited, knowing there had to be some other member of the Draeven line who would take the title. Into his teen years, he’d heard his step-mother talking about this cousin or that cousin who could be coming any day to oust them from their home and take the title, and Azriel almost prayed someone would.

But no one ever did.

He would not tell Elain that. No one truly knew every little detail but Rhysand and Cassian, so when Elain asked, “How so?” Azriel casually answered, “Complicated family history.”

Elain wasn’t fond of that answer, he could tell she wanted to push, but like the lady she was, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “I am glad for your title. It means that you and I may spend time with one another.”

Azriel watched as she repositioned herself, a small smile on her lips. For the first time, Azriel thought that he may not mind his title either, if only for that reason. 

<.>

Nesta knew she shouldn’t be out on her own at such an hour, but she had to get away. Supper had been excruciating, Cassian looking up at her with his stupid, cocky grins for the entirety of it. It made her skin crawl, how he thought it was all just a game.

She didn’t give him her blessing, and she wouldn’t.

She could not have such a rake as a brother-in-law. 

She fled down the steps and into the garden, only to find a stone bench to fall on.

Once seated, she closed her eyes and took one deep breath, then another.

Listening to the breeze rustling through the shrubbery around her, she waited a moment, before opening her eyes. When it was clear no one had seen her flee her rooms, Nesta reached into the pockets of her robes and produced a small metal case, which she flipped open. A strike and a flush of light and Nesta was inhaling deeply from the clove cigarette between her lips.

Cassian, with his pretentious attitude and constant smirking. She scoffed as she exhaled and it almost sounded like a growl.

He was handsome, Nesta could not deny that, but a pretty face and a title wasn’t enough to win her over for either of her sisters.

Thank the Cauldron, Feyre was smart enough to align herself with the Prince. Nesta needn’t worry about his honor.

But Baron Cassian Nazari?

Over her dead body would he marry a member of the Archeron family.

The thought was haunting her and she suddenly had a new loathing for her father. 

She had always loathed her father, had never gotten along with the man she had hailed from, but now, giving her this responsibility instead of taking it on his own…

Nesta loathed him.

She loved her sisters, but this was not her job. In her father’s defense, she didn’t know what her job was, she supposed. Not anymore. 

She had forgotten what her job was a long time ago, when she refused to marry and became the mocking center of the ton.

Nesta took a long drag and closed her eyes.

She had no idea who she was.

All she knew is she couldn’t get Cassian Nazari out of her head.

It seemed that rather than prove his worth to Nesta, he’d decided to spend the rest of their visit getting under her skin. He infuriated her to the point of no return, having consumed her every thought while she lay in bed.

She wondered if he knew he wore every emotion and thought on that handsome face. How his jaw ticked when he was frustrated, his eyes would trail down and to the left when he was deep in thought. She didn’t want to think about the fact that his hazel eyes lit up when the two of them spoke. Not every time, but often, and when they did, he looked so…alive.

But that was not the point.

Even thoughts such as those were highly inappropriate. 

Infuriating.

Nesta heard a crunch and just as she jumped to her feet, a figure came around the corner, emanating puffs of smoke. 

Lord Azriel froze, looked at Nesta, looked down at the cigarette between her fingers, then cleared his throat. “Apologies, wasn’t aware this bench was already occupied.” Nesta must have had a look of pure panic written across her features, because he continued with, “No need to worry. Everyone else has gone to bed and your secret is safe with me.”

Azriel did not threaten her in the slightest, but still, being alone with a man in the middle of a garden at night felt wrong. 

Once again, highly inappropriate. 

Better Lord Azriel than Lord Cassian, though.

“Please,” he went on, when she said nothing, gesturing to the bench. “Do not let me interrupt.”

Nesta slowly sat back down and gestured to the opposite end of the bench. “Feel free to join, if you wish. It seems this is your smoking bench, after all.”

Azriel chuckled as he sat, a couple feet away. “Perhaps it is. I love my brothers, but some days I need to come out here and…breathe. Without them.”

Nesta snorted. “That seems fair, my lord.” A moment of silence passed before she said, “You call each other brothers. Are you related by blood?”

She hadn’t thought so, but she didn’t want to assume. 

“No, though my mother and Rhysand’s were close friends growing up, so we met young. And Cassian?” Azriel chuckled, affectionately. “We met him in finishing school and the three of us were pretty much inseparable after that.”

Nesta had to resist the urge to snort. “Finishing school? Lord Cassian attended finishing school?”

He chuckled, the tip of his cigarette lighting up as took a long drag. “He may be a lot to take in, but do not mistake his fervor for life as disregard for his honor and respect.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment and Azriel feared he may have said something wrong. “You probably think I’m a hateful woman,” she said, quietly. “I don’t withhold my blessing out of spite.”

“You want what’s best for your sisters,” Azriel replied. “No one can fault you for that.”

Nesta wasn’t sure what she had been expecting Azriel to say, but that was not it. They did not know each other; yet, he seemed to understand more than anyone else.

“We are all each other have,” Nesta said, simply, before putting the cigarette between her lips. “After this season…” her words trailed off as she shook her head. “After this season, our lives will be forever changed. We have been through enough change in our lifetime, enough scandal. If our lives are to change, then I want it to be for the best. They deserve that. Both of them.”

Azriel blew a puff of smoke into the cool, night air and watched it fade away into nothingness before he said, “Contrary to popular belief, Miss Archeron, you are a good woman. A good sister.”

“That is very kind of you to say,” Nesta said, quietly. “You may be the only one in the ton who believes such a thing.”

“Yes, well,” Azriel began, snorting, “the ton does not think fondly of me, either, so do not let it upset you. You and I will be much happier in the remainder of our lives than most of them will ever be.”

Nesta looked over at the young lord, and found him smiling softly at her. He took another drag of his cigarette, before saying, “Like I said, Miss Archeron, your secret is safe with me.”

__________________________________________________________

@mariamuses @photofeesh @the-regal-warrior @gracie-rosee @irisofink @strawberries-and-reveries @zeppelin-and-unicorns @live-the-fangirl-life @cassianscool @clacings @argentumstella @cuppamelia @chillspritecranberry @emilyrose111294 @awesomelena555 @gengen64 @dontbenddontbreak @blueunoias @liliput2203 @sleeping-and-books @kindofawalkingpoem @thebitchydonutcollector @shedoessoshedoes @cretaceous-therapod @emily-gsh @annie-laur @impossiblehistoryofquotes @midnightrose-reader @beanl1 @shniya-hiiragi @towhateverend87 @deezrmuhsheeple @pintas3107 @sarcasm-is-the-best-insult @santkazoya @lady-winter-sunrise @themoonthestarsthesuriel @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @sv0430 @dreammoutlouddd @katlady13 @lokisllama @mrspettyferr @missannieshay @live-the-fangirl-life @headinclouds48 @secretlycressdarnel @awesomethreedragons @lokisllama @littlehoneyybee @vicioux @cest-la-vieve @lokisllama 

#nessian #feysand #elriel #fanfic #fanfiction #periodau #period au #bridgerton au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm

[violet-shadows]

rhysand in his beast form scares me, I even had nightmares the day I read it 🥹

Tbh it sounds far scarier than Tamlin’s beast form. Rhys is a like a hell dragon, meanwhile Tamlin is over here like:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who picture him as Beast form Beauty and the Beast but hotter.

#asks #tamlin #Rhysand #acotar