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shadowdaddies · 5 months

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Omgomg-

Can you do an Az x Summer Court reader with soft, white, feathered wings where she's like cleaning her feathers(a very intimate act) and Az walks in, there's some flustered blushing and whatnot, and then he offers to help and they clean their wings together??

OMG this is so cute I'm cryin 😭 I had so much fun with this, you're the best and ily thank you for the request angel!!!💜

Wings of Desire

Azriel x Reader

Sent on mission by Tarquin to work with the Night Court on joining your armies with the Illyrians, Rhysand had allowed you to visit the camps with his spymaster. After a long day of observing training, the both of you flew to where you would be staying while in Illyria. You followed Azriel, landing in front of a small cabin on the far northern border of Prythian. You weren’t even sure if you were still on the continent anymore, shivering at the cold unlike that which you’d ever experienced.

Born in the Summer Court, the heavy snow during Night Court winters was unfamiliar to you, and made flying difficult. Unlike the Illyrians’ wings, which were bare and ideal for flight in freezing temperatures, the delicate feathers of your bone white wings abhorred the cold.

The stiffness in your wings spread throughout your body, teeth chattering as you forced your legs through the snow to the open door Azriel held for you, an amused smile playing on his lips. Cauldron, those beautiful lips. Your eyes trailed from those lips, down his body as the spymaster heaved in breaths. You were glad to see you weren’t the only one tired from the flight.

As soon as you made it through the doorway, heat seeped into you, a deep comfort settling over your bones. You turned to Azriel, that same smile tugging at his mouth as he seemingly read your thoughts. “Magic. Rhys keeps the place a comfortable temperature, so it’s warm even in the winter.” Enchanted by the unexpected comforts of the cozy cabin, you walked into the kitchen area, taking in the surroundings.

All of the walls of the cabin were painted, five sets of eyes lining the hallway at the top of the stairs. You scowled at the silvery eyes that seemed to follow you, wings twitching behind you at the uncomfortable feeling, until you reached a familiar set of hazel eyes at the end. A soft smile graced your features, suddenly feeling safe under the watchful eye of Azriel.

You turned to question the spymaster about the artwork when a cup of hot chocolate appeared on the counter in front of you. Gasping, you jumped back and collided with the shadowsinger. A rare, soft laugh escaped his lips, and you felt as though you might melt at the sound. Scarred hands gently grabbed your arms, helping stand you upright as he leaned over you and grabbed the cup to place in your hands. “The cabin is sentient, so it will supply you with whatever you ask, within reason. Or whatever it thinks you need... In this case, hot chocolate.”

You blushed, taking a sip of the warm drink and moaned at the rich taste. Azriel’s eyes were dark as he watched you lick the chocolate from your lips, the spymaster clearing his throat as he quickly looked away from you. Your wings shuddered at his attention, and a wince left you at the movement of the sore muscles beneath.

Shadows curled around Azriel’s own wings, smokey wisps circling his ear as he studied your feathers. “The house will run a bath for you, so you can clean and warm your wings if you wish. Second door on the left.” Almost too distracted by the alluring darkness swirling in front of you, it took a moment to register what Azriel was saying. “Oh, yes. Thank you, Az,” you murmured, setting down the cup as you turned to make your way upstairs for a much needed bath.

Entering the room, you found a spacious bed - something unusual in your court, as most there did not have wings. But you supposed it was a necessity with the large Illyrians who often stayed here - Azriel in particular had the largest set of wings you had seen on anyone.

Stripping down, you padded into the bathroom where dim faelights lit the area. A bath was already filled, lavender aromas drifting from the steamy waters of the tub. You giggled, feeling gleeful as you skipped over to the tub and sank beneath the surface. You let out a quiet moan at the feeling, your tired muscles finally rewarded after a long day.

You looked around the tub, searching for anything to use to clean your wings. Because they were feathers, you had to use a long handle to brush between them when you bathed. As Illyrians had bare wings, you should have assumed that they would not have such difficulty washing their own wings. You huffed out a frustrated breath, attempting to reach over your shoulder in awkward angles to find the remaining dirt and snow that had worked its way in your wings.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door, Azriel calling out to you. “Hey, I felt a tu- I felt like you might need something. Is everything okay in there?” Your eyes welled with frustrated tears, humiliated that the Night Court spymaster should find you like this. “Everything is fine, Az. I’ll be okay.” You choked on the last word, and Azriel swore under his breath as he kicked the door open.

“Something is wrong. Please tell me how I can help, or I won’t be able to sleep,” he said, looking everywhere around the room except at you. A small laugh escaped you at his attempt at chivalry. “You can look at me, Az. I’m not shy. I just can’t reach the dirt on my wings.” A sniffle sounded through the air as you looked at the shadowsinger, whose gaze was only fixed on your dirty, crumpled wings as you trembled in the tub. He swallowed, more nervous than you had ever seen him as Azriel whispered, “I can help you. If- if that is okay.”

You nodded without hesitation. The social taboos of how intimate touching wings was didn’t matter to you in that moment, as you were desperate for Azriel’s healing touch. The shadowsinger nodded, moving behind the tub as he awkwardly reached towards your wings. “Um, how should I-?”

You turned around, unable to stop your laughter at the Night Court’s spymaster hunched over the edge of a bathtub. “You can get in, Azriel. No offense, but you could use a bath too,” you teased, wrinkling your nose for dramatic effect. He scoffed, his weight shifting between his feet as he considered. “Okay,” Az murmured, looking at you to turn around before he undressed.

You rolled your eyes at the nearly six hundred year old male’s shyness, but turned around anyway, scooting towards the other end of the tub to make room for him. You silently marveled at how large the bathtub was as well, another luxury you were not used to. Your thoughts were interrupted by the water moving as Azriel silently entered the bath.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “so, how is the best way to wash them?” You smiled to yourself before handing him a rag. “Just anywhere that you see dirt, if you could use the washcloth or your hands - whatever is easiest - to wipe it away. It usually gets stuck higher up and between feathers.”

You heard his deep inhale from behind as he brought the washcloth over your wings, biting your lip to keep from moaning at the feeling. After awhile of Azriel using the washcloth, he whispered in a shaky voice, “I think I need to use my hands to get the rest.” You nodded your consent, peeking over your shoulder to see the focused male with his brow furrowed as he lathered soap on his scarred hands. This time when his hands made contact with your wings, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you.

He pulled back quickly, eyes and shadows wildly searching for any sign of harm. “Are you okay? I’m so sor-“ You cut him off with a breathy laugh. “No, Az, it’s fine. They’re just... sensitive. I’m not hurt.” You promised, looking into those hazel eyes as you swore to him. Azriel nodded, continuing his work with even softer care now, you biting your li until it bled to keep your moans from frightening him away.

“Okay, they’re looking beautiful and pristine as ever,” Azriel announced after awhile, one finger skirting the outside of your right wing as he spoke. You huffed a thank you, both relieved and heartbroken that it was over, when it dawned on you. “Do... you need help with your wings, Azriel?”

It was quiet for a moment, the question weighing heavy in the air before Azriel responded, “yes, I would greatly appreciate that.” The both of you turned around, his broad wings on display for you in the tub as he now faced the other edge. You gently washed his wings - admittedly much easier and faster than your own. He was silent the whole time - except for when you brushed a large vein on his left wing - one groan sounding from him that you kindly ignored. It was an unspoken understanding that neither of you would admit, that Azriel did not need help washing his wings. But something in your chest called you to him, to care for him in the most intimate of ways.

While you dragged it out for as long as you could, the bathwater eventually grew colder and Azriel’s wings could not be much cleaner. The two of you accepted that the moment was over, exiting the bath as you donned your towels. Azriel picked up his leathers, slowly making his way towards the door when you blurted out, “stop.”

He slowly turned, eyeing you cautiously while you scrambled to find a reason for him to stay. “I - um, I don’t know the area as well as you, obviously... Would you mind staying in here tonight? The bed has plenty of room.” With a deep breath, you admitted, “I would feel safer with you.” Azriel smiled at you, a glowing feeling tugging in your chest at the sight as he made his way towards your bed, settling under the covers.

Part 2 | Part 3

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readychilledwine · 4 months

Text

Runaway Love

Summary - Amren and Rhysand's sister have begun to grow closer since Feyre took her duties from her. Amren, seeing she's hurting and needing time away, invites her friend to Summer, she just didn't plan on happened next or having to explain it to Rhysand - Tarquin x Rhysand's Sister reader - told from Amren's pov

Warnings - none I can think of. Lots of italics?

A/N - a side from some Tamlin smut, we are at the end of my maternity celebration, which means we will go back to our regular updates 💜 part of me wants to turn these two into more, but that may be a project for another day

Amren watched from the hill as Tarquin and you sat facing each other in the sand. Your foreheads were rested against each other, fingers laced together.

You two had done the one thing your brother had made Amren promise to prevent from happening. You two had left the seaside Palace late in the night, when everyone else was fast asleep and gotten married on the very beach Tarquin now held you on. Married under the watchful gaze of Summer’s high priestess and the stars.

By time Varian and Amren had found you, the ceremony was done. Vows had been exchanged, the kiss had been shared, the priestess had left. You two had been there, standing as the waves lapped your glittering white dress, just staring at each other.

A throat cleared next to her, turning to her own lover the ancient being sighed. “How will you tell him,” He asked softly. “He will want to know why she refused to come home.”

Amren looked down at you again, a smile forming on her lips as Tarquin tilted your chin up and kissed you. “I will tell him the truth.”

Rhys sat down, Feyre having left the room with Nyx as soon as tension began Building over Amren's avoidance of her mate's questions.

Violet eyes stared at her, waiting for an answer to the question that was hanging in the air like a cold unwelcome breeze. Rhysand rose a brow to Amren and Varian. “Do not make me ask again.”

Amren finally answered, voice showing no signs of emotion as she sighed. “She is not coming back. She is staying in Summer with Tarquin.”

Rhysand's gaze darkened, “And why Amren, did you as her chaperone allow her to make that decision?”

Varian answered, feeling the need to defend his own lover. “Your sister is a grown female. She does not require permission from-”

Rhys growled, gaze going to the visitor in his court. “I did not ask you. I asked my second in command why SHE did not perform her duty to protect my sister and bring her home.”

Something in Amren snapped in that moment. Her loyalty to y/n coming forward.

She couldn't help but to growl at the High Lord as Varian shifted uncomfortable next to her. "When was the last time you paid attention to her, boy? The last time you actually listened to one of her mission reports instead of telling her to leave it in your office?”

Rhys opened his mouth to defend himself only to pause as Amren snarled at him. "You have not given y/n a single ounce of care since your mate came. You even stripped her of her duties to her home and court so your mate would have a place." Amren settled back into the chair, not even realizing she had stood in her anger until Varian gently grabbed her small hand in his.

"They married, Rhysand." He said softly. "Unless you plan on ripping the bride of the High Lord of Summer away and starting a war, there is nothing you can do but ask to visit.”

The High Lord's face fell. “They-” He shook his head, “She wouldn't have willingly married him without myself, Azriel, and Cassian there.”

Amren looked at him again, her eyes then lingering on Rhysand's wedding band. “There was a time where she believed the same of you.”

His head hung in shame. “Show me.”

They both shook their heads. “We weren't there,” Amren said calmly. “They knew I had specific orders and made the choice to get married in the dead of night. By time we found them, it was done.”

Rhys stood turning away and walking to the window to hide the tears that were about to fall. “Then show me them leading up to the decision. Show me she is happy.”

Amren couldn't help the small smile, a rare thing gracing her face, as she thought back to their first day in Summer.

Tarquin smiled down at Amren, welcoming her back to Summer as he motioned towards the veranda where a table was set for 4. Cressida was there already, eyes wide as she stared behind Varian.

She stood immediately, telling a servant to get another chair and moving so she would not be at her cousin's right hand. "I brought another guest with me,” Amren stated coolly. “I hope you do not mind.”

A soft gasp was heard, followed by the voice that would haunt the Night Court until they heard it again. “Amren! You did not warn him you were bringing me? You-”

Tarquin was moving to her, to his mate, immediately, taking her soft hands into his. “Y/n,” his voice was breathless as he studied you. Eyes locking on your own the second he had decided you were well. “This is the most wonderful surprise. Even the sea has become more fair in your presence.”

Amren chuckled as a blush spread from your cheeks to your softly pointed ears. “I believe your seas only reflect their master's emotions, Tarquin,” you stated softly.

“Then they calm while my heart races at the sight of you alone.”

Varian had his own favorite memory in mind. One from a night spent on the Pleasure Barge.

Varian watched like a hawk ready to attack anyone who may approach you or Amren. The two of you had your arms linked, whispering secrets to each other as he watched the sheer skirts you two wore sway in the soft salty breeze.

You had not been on the barge before, having been banned from it during your last visit by Rhysand, and the two older fae were excited to bring you to watch the activities taking place.

Tarquin had come beforehand, ensuring the private balcony you would be watching from was perfect for his mate.Varian knocked on the door as Amren told you to behave as she went to their own balcony.

He opened the door and ushered you in. “I trust you have an idea of what will be happening here tonight?” Varian led you in by your waist, holding you close to him as the guards watched. “If at any point you are uncomfortable, tell my cousin.” You nodded, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you stared ahead.

Tarquin was standing there, his back to you two as he moved pillows exactly how he wanted them for the night. He had brought in expensive champagne for the two of you, chocolate covered fruits, flowers.

It was clear to Varian you had never been truly courted in that moment. You had never had another fae ensuring everything was perfect for you and you alone. That they had brought the best for you and you alone. He bent down to your ear, “Be good, little star.”

Amren had thought of another memory, smiling again as she heard your laughter echoing in her mind.

Varian and Amren had found a shady spot on the beach, enjoying cool wine and fresh fruits and cheeses on the beautiful, warm day.

The ocean was gorgeous today. Soft waves rolling in, a breeze cooling the air.

That same breeze carried your laughter as Tarquin chased you through the sand. The two of you had just come out of the water after you had decided a swim was absolutely a must.

Amren immediately froze as you screamed, panic setting in until she realized it was because Tarquin had caught you and lifted you into his arms. Your back was to his chest, legs kicking out as your head fell back and your laughter filled the air again.

“He's moved her things into his room,” Cresseida mumbled. “Tell me, dear Amren. How will Rhysand feel about his precious baby sister breaking all of his rules while she's here without him? Sleeping in Tarquin's bed. Wearing a Summer Crown. She is sitting with him during court meetings. Need I bring up the nights on the barge?”

“Let them be, sister.”

“Do you plan on dealing with him if be storms here with his Illyrians in tow?”

Amren rolled her eyes. “Rhysand has hardly paid y/n a single mind since Feyre came to the Night Court. She was brought here on that first visit as a distraction without knowing what was happening. If Rhys wants to be upset, he can speak with me.”

Tarquin was carrying you over, holding you bridal style as he smiled down at you. The tail end of his sentence could be heard. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” you whispered.

“And then they married,” Rhysand concluded at the end of Amren's memory. He sat back down, head in his hands. “Did-” his throat tightened as Azriel and Cassian walked in. “Did she look beautiful?”

“Breath taking,” the Summer general answered immediately.

Amren ran to the hillside by the beach they had spent the day on. “No no no no,” she kept muttering under her breath. “This damn girl-”

Varian shot an arm out to stop her. “Do not say-"

“It's done, my goddess.” He pointed down the beach. There, just barely in the water, you and Tarquin stood. He had both hands cradling your face as he kissed you. The white dress you had packed, the one that was lightweight and shimmered like glitter, was sparkling until the light of the full moon. Your hands were resting on Tarquin's chest, hair flowing in the wind.

You were glowing, like starlight during Starfall, as your foreheads came to rest together. Varian sat in the grass, pulling Amren down with him as he did. “Beautiful little creature,” he said, nodding down towards you. “and her beautiful chaperone should not take this as a failure on her end.”

Cresseida joined them, tears in her eyes as she sat next to Amren. “It's the perfect ending, is it not? A runaway wedding?”

Amren shook her head as you and Tarquin turned towards them, hands held and fingers laced together. As you walked, you looked up at him and only him, trusting him to guide your feet to your friends. “No,” Amren finally said. “It is a perfect beginning.”

Silence had filled the room as Cassian sat, and Azriel just nodded. “So, she isn't coming home then,” Cassian said slowly. “And our little sister now resides over a court I am banned from.”

Azriel nodded, moving to the window Rhys had previously stood in front of. “Did she say anything to you before you left, Amren?” Azriel looked over his shoulder at her. “Anything at all?”

Varian nodded. “Be happy,” the couple said together. “Be happy and take the leap.”

Amren held her own left hand up. There sat a sparkling large diamond centered in gold and rubies. “I will be packing my things as well, High Lord.”

Rhysand sighed heavily, nodding. “Do you plan on a year-long engagement?” The two nodded. “I am happy for you, both of you.”

“And your sister?”

Rhysand shook his head. “Her I will deal with later.”

Taglist - @kemillyfreitas @biancabldss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @hnyclover

#acotar #acotar x reader #tarquin x rhysands sister!reader #tarquin x reader #tarquin acotar #tarquin

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illyrian-dreamer · 6 months

Text

Our girl – Part 6

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, character death

<<< Part 5

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile.

You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.

Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.

With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.

Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.

“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”

You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years.

“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them.

Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table.

Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.

"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks.

“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.

“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.

It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.

With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting.

“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”

“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.

Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”

“In what way?” Thesan asked.

“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”

There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort.

“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”

“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone.

You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”

Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”

Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.

“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”

Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight.

“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”

“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”

“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys.

“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you.

“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”

A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience.

“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”

You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”

Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him.

With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?

You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.

“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.

“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.

You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.

As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.

You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board.

There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps.

Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…

Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.

She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance. “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"

You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”

“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”

“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"

“Too much, probably.”

“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.

Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”

You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”

You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to.

“How are they?”

Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”

Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.

“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say.

“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.

“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.”

Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it.

Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.

“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.

Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”

You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”

“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.

“As do I.” And so was your own.

————

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”

You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots.

“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”

“I know, I just… worry for you.”

You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”

Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“

“You’re fussing.”

“No, I have a feeling.”

“A feeling of fussing?”

Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered.

You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.

Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding.

When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust.

“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.

You forced yourself not to look back.

————

The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to.

But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started.

Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.

As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue.

“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.”

And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.

But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past.

“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”

But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.

Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”

The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"

Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”

Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer.

Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords.

“Can she walk?”

The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…

A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”

“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”

She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.

You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”

Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.

The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her.

The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones.

“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”

You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness.

You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways.

You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth.

Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black.

————

Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep.

Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris.

Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them.

Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home.

Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter.

“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.

“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly.

“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”

Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly.

Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.

“There’s more.”

Rhys quirked his brow.

“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.”

“Podie? Who-"

“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”

Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle.

“You said east?”

Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”

Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.”

But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first.

“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him.

Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within.

Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords.

Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle.

Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.

There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.

————

Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell.

You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own.

Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon.

You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.

You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most.

“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew.

“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”

It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.

Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.

“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.

Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.

“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”

Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”

What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.

“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”

The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.

You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”

Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it.

Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”

You were wise enough not to answer.

Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”

Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”

“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”

It was almost convincing.

“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”

You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.

“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”

Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.

Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.

“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.”

Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.

You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.

“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”

“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”

A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father.

“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”

Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.

“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”

Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”

You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.

He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.

He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”

You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.

“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”

You forced your eyes open.

“I merely want to break your bond.”

There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust.

“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.

--------

Part 7>>>

A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️ Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️

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stxrvel · 2 months

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the court (3)

hi guys! part 3 is finally here and i apologize for the delay and also that it is so short :(. i've had some problems these days, but today i could finally finish this part and finally bring it to you guys! i hope you like it and see you next time! <3

summary: you and Azriel had to start making peace with the reality you were to live from now on... pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +2k warnings: bad words and mentions of captivity

part 1: the cliff

part 2: the house

part 4: the routine

You felt strange. The last few days had passed too quickly since you had been dragged out of the tiny cell where you lived, if you could call it living. You hadn't thought you would be unlucky enough to see the high lord of the Night Court again, but that last day on the mountain, his face was almost the last one you saw.

The memory made you shudder, an uneasiness coursing through your body that tried to counteract the calm coming from the other side of the bond. Azriel was silent, which you had noticed was quite common for him. Mor was at his side, sending you a reassuring smile that did little to calm your nerves. You didn't know how Azriel was coping with it all so well when you felt like you were going to explode.

The scene could almost be funny.

Tarquin, your High Lord, was at a safe distance, sharing a lethal gaze with Azriel through the masses of air. Mor was a few steps ahead, holding her hard stare for everyone else.

Only one was missing… the High Lord of the Night Court.

Your parents were not there, because they were over the border with the Day Court, which is why there were also envoys and representatives from Helion. You would only have to run a couple of meters to reach your Court, to return home.

Azriel at your side sighed and you couldn't help but send him a sidelong glance. It was impossible for you to decipher his expression, so you couldn't tell if the separation hurt him as much as it did you. It was never your intention to separate from him as soon as you met, in fact, you spent many nights imagining and dreaming that your mate would appear and take you far away from that mountain. But Azriel was basically the right hand of the reason you had ended up captured, you didn't know how things worked like that and you didn't want to make any more trouble. Going home was what you wanted and maybe what would work for everyone.

Barely a little over a minute would've passed when Tarquin spoke.

“Y/N,” he addressed you and you turned your gaze from your mate to your high lord. “You are home. Please come.”

You looked at his outstretched hand feeling a hand wrap around your throat and the warmth of Azriel's wings cover you from the not at all cold winds of Court Day. You passed saliva carefully, sending a glance to your partner, who kept his jaw tense and his gaze fixed on your High Lord.

You took a step forward and felt those shadows, which you knew were part of Azriel, swirl about your feet as you walked.

The Court Day was not cold, but the moment you separated from Azriel you began to feel chilled.

Clasping your hands in front of you, you walked towards your High Lord, quickening your pace each time you felt further away from the members of the Night Court who now kept their gaze fixed on your neck. As you reached Tarquin's side, you caught sight of Azriel again and for a second he couldn't hide the pitiful expression on his face. He watched you for just the tiniest of seconds, which felt eternal, when he hardened his gaze again to look at Tarquin.

“Where is he?” your High Lord spoke again, when he was sure you were behind him and in the custody of his warriors.

“He's coming,” Mor spoke, shifting her pace on her feet to the side of a stiff Azriel.

“Good,” Tarquin nodded. “I suppose we can wait a while.”

He turned and you had to look away from Azriel as he raised one of his hands in the direction of the border.

“You're free to go home. Your parents are waiting.”

Out of the corner of your eye you barely noticed Azriel move, but you might as well have imagined it because Tarquin was obstructing most of your view. You could barely give your mate a glance, savoring the feeling of the bond once more, trying to send something that wasn't fear or panic or sadness before you left, which you knew was what you had felt these past few days because you had no strength to control the flow of emotions that traveled through that; no strength to put up a wall around you. It was a habit, during your days of captivity you always hoped that someday the High Lord of the Night Court could easily see through you.

You noticed a slight nod of his head and that was enough. You turned on your feet to walk ahead of the soldiers, though your body begged you to turn back and take refuge in your mate, though his shadows still swirled at your feet no matter the distance, leaving him alone. You didn't want him to be alone, but you didn't know how to ask them not to follow you.

But when you were close to the border and spotted the silhouettes of your parents, any thought vanished from your head. Anything other than that you were home, that you were able to return, that you could see your parents again. There was no better feeling than that at that moment.

“What?”

Your mother stood in front of you, a cup of her amazing hot chocolate in her hands and her eyes red from spending so many hours crying over your return. They were in the living room, the cozy, homey atmosphere beginning to finally mend the cracks you didn't even know existed in unreachable parts of your soul and head. It was an indescribable peace, but not complete and of course you knew why.

“You can't go back there, Y/N,” your father mimicked your mother's gesture, leaning forward slightly as if they wanted to come closer and wrap their arms around you and never let you leave the house again. You understood their fear, but now you were living a new reality.

“I'm not saying I'm going to leave now or tomorrow. But I will, someday, eventually,” you calmly explained to them. “He's my mate.”

“I don't want that,” your father shook his head and a small amount of pain flooded your chest. During that time you tried hard to keep your emotions from running through the bond for Azriel's sake. Now that surely he and the others must be at the High Lord's house, the last thing you wanted was to worry him.

“Dad, Azriel had nothing to do with what happened.”

He said nothing in response, sinking into the armchair next to your mother who maintained a slightly more neutral expression.

“You speak well of someone who is a mortal enemy of our Court,” her icy voice cut through the silence. The air felt heavier.

You looked at her again, her stone-like expression waiting for you on the other side. “I thought you having worked for the High Lord would understand that you would do anything for his protection.”

Your mother twisted her mouth, crossing her arms over her chest. When she turned her head, your father sent you a reproachful look.

“You know that's a touchy subject for your mother.”

“So is your treating my partner like a criminal,” you frowned at them.

“But he's not innocent,” your mother sentenced, even without turning to look at you.

“Azriel did everything in his power with the knowledge he had- now he's supposed to be omniscient?”

“Whatever conclusion we come to, I don't want you to go back to that court.”

“Dad!”

“The High Lord of the Night Court held you captive for almost fifty years! Are we supposed to be happy that you want to go back?”

“But I found him. My mate… Azriel.”

“Y/N, I hope you understand that this is a very serious situation. And the best decision you can make is not over there,” your mother stood up, seeking to end the conversation at that moment. The euphoria of the welcome had worn off.

“Are you asking me to leave my mate?”

The silence was deafening. Your parents barely glanced sideways at you, still with their expressions twitching.

“What the fuck? What's next, are you going to ask me to reject the bond?” you exclaimed through the pain in your chest. The shadow of helplessness running across your eyes.

“Of course not, sweetheart. Just… do you understand what these years were like for us?”

“Do you understand what they were for me? I was the one who went through it and I'm willing to go back for him,” you looked at your father, exasperated. The last thing you expected from that meeting was for them to end up having a discussion like that. Whatever the High Lord of the Night Court decided to do would never have anything to do with what Azriel could never do. You knew down to your bones that if he had known earlier things would be very different.

“I don't know, Y/N…”

“I'm not going to ask for your permission for this,” you stood up, preparing to go back to your room. Your mother still looked angry and your father frustrated. “I'll stay for a while, but I'm not abandoning Azriel.”

“How long did it take and did he have to find you until you were about to die?”

“That has nothing to do with him and you know it,” you slurred the words, angry. With that feeling throbbing in your chest, you left the living room on your way to your room. At some point you felt a breeze rush through your chest, reminding you of your mate's feeling of bodily warmth.

Tarquin's office had never felt so stifling. Azriel had become so used to feeling all your emotions through the bond that now that he felt nothing from the other side he felt too anxious. He knew that whatever Rhysand and Tarquin were talking about was important, too much, and that he should be as vigilant as Mor was, but his head kept coming back to you. He was too worried that he couldn't know how you were doing. He didn't know how he would survive the next few days.

Somehow they had managed to have a diplomatic conversation. Azriel heard a few things at the beginning about the derogatory and venomous remarks of the high lords until they came in to touch on the subject of prisoners and the fight over fifty years ago. Mor was doing her mediating role excellently and knew that they had come to an agreement at some point. That was all he knew.

“However, regardless of what we agree,” Azriel observed Tarquin after feeling his gaze, “whether or not to go back will be up to her.”

“I know,” he averted his gaze, feeling Rhysand turn to watch him. Tarquin stood behind his desk, serious and unyielding as always, but patient… for some reason, understanding.

Azriel felt his chest compress, the all-too-familiar emptiness welcoming his grief, even though it had barely been a couple of days since he had met his mate. It seemed like he had barely begun to live since the day he saw you. So many new emotions and so many inexplicable voids. He couldn't even feel her anymore and that… it could drive him crazy. How would they live from end to end as if nothing? As if it all meant nothing? As if being away from her wouldn't rob him of air?

“You'll see each other again. That's for sure-”

“Don't fucking talk to me,” the Shadowsinger shot up from the chair, Mor barely wincing at the sound.

Tarquin watched curiously between faces and Azriel cursed not being able to hold his tongue every time Rhysand addressed him. He didn't regret it, because he wanted Rhysand to be able to feel a quarter of what you came to feel under his captivity for so many years, though sometimes his head wandered to find excuses for his actions or lack thereof, because this was his friend for centuries, his brother for as long as he could remember, but he also knew he should be mindful of who he was speaking in front of. They weren't supposed to give way to the other high lords of Prythian suspecting in the slightest what the new events had generated in their Inner Circle, that it was something that could shake the foundations of the Court, but Azriel couldn't contain that rage that moved unbridled in his chest and he wasn't about to downplay it when it came to his mate; it was not a trivial matter.

“Az,” Cassian had approached him that morning before leaving, when the Shadowsinger had been standing in front of the entrance to the Town House waiting for the others to arrive to leave for Summer Court; waiting for you, specifically. Azriel had barely glanced sideways at him, easily noticing his slumped shoulders and the low note in his voice. “I know you don't want to talk about it, but you should try to work things out with Rhys. Or at least try to-”

“Should I?” Azriel turned his head, his eyes piercing the barrier of vulnerability in Cassian's gaze. The Shadowsinger was trying, but every time someone mentioned his mate hostility was born within him. He didn't want anyone to go near her or talk about her, or even breathe around her. They didn't deserve it. They couldn't, after everything that had happened. “I wonder what you'd like to hear from me if it was about Nesta.”

Whatever gibberish was going to come out of his friend's mouth died the moment he heard his mate's name. Azriel barely noticed how his body tensed, considering himself satisfied, as some of his shadows stirred around him and then parted from him.

“I will handle this situation as I see fit, Cassian. I don't need your advice or opinions. None of you have the right to come and tell me what I should do,” Azriel spoke between his teeth, trying to maintain his composure, even though anger burned his throat. He was rejoicing in the fact that his shadows had warned him that you were on your way and some of them had stayed with you to accompany you.

“I didn't mean to sound that way, Az, I didn't-”

“This is a situation that concerns only Rhysand, myself and my mate,” Azriel cut him off, turning his body to look at his brother. “If you want to keep things peaceful between us, I beg you to stay out of it.”

Azriel could barely notice the change in Cassian's face, from shock and stupefaction to a kind of nostalgic understanding. Reality weighed heavy on his shoulders, but there was some sort of understanding behind the regret reflected in his expression. Cassian knew that he would've acted the same way Azriel did if Nesta had been in her place and that as much as he wanted to try to keep things stable in his home, the decision was not his to make alone. The situation depended on Rhysand's repentance, Azriel's capacity for acceptance and your willingness to forgive.

“Should I be worried?” Tarquin spoke, snapping Azriel out of the incessant whispering in his head. He turned to look at him, frowning, flicking his gaze between him and Rhysand.

“No,” he replied before Mor could, earning a glare from his friends.

Tarquin didn't look convinced, Azriel couldn't convince anyone by speaking with so much pent-up anger, but the subject wasn't broached again. And, a couple of hours later, they were back at the Town House.

tag: @isa1b2h3 @naturakaashi @anuttellaa

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar series

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stormhearty · 2 months

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Pairings: Former Rhysand x Reader, Feysand, Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

Summary: It has been two decades since you left Night Court, leaving the life you had always known. It had been five years since you were in Dawn Court, slowly healing with the help of its High Lord. Now, you had resided in Summer Court, Tarquin by your side through your healing process. But when a mating bond snaps between the two of you when your health turns for the worse, how would you process something that you never thought would happen in your immortal life? And when you decide to confront your former family, would you forgive them for their past discretions? The story of the aftermath of your broken heart of glass.

Note: From this request! Thank you so much for wanting a second part to “Breaking Like Glass”!! I love that everyone enjoyed that fic’s immense angst, so I will gladly give you guys the fluff, romance, and healing the reader needs. And I do hope this isn’t cheesy. I struggled a bit on writing this, whether to debate to make it angsty, but I feel like, it has enough of the balance. Please do enjoy!

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

“You know, my stardust, you don't have to do this… We can have our mating ceremony with our family. We don't have to invite Night Court…”

You let out a thoughtful hum as you lounged in one of the lounging chairs in Tarquin’s office, book in hand. You placed a finger on your page before looking over your shoulder at the High Lord of Summer, who looked at you with concern etched on his beautiful features.

After centuries of being with Rhysand, you had always thought that you would be content in not finding your mate. You had thought, and wished, that you would have eternity with the High Lord of Night Court. However, with the fiasco two decades ago, all you wanted to do was heal — fix your broken heart and mind from your torture from Under the Mountain, to fix your broken soul from being ripped apart by your family. You did not want to fall in love — you didn’t want to give your taped-up heart to someone and be worried about having it torn apart again.

You had safe-guarded your heart behind high, metal walls with a fog of darkness to protect it — to protect you from breaking all over again, and losing yourself once more.

But what you had never dreamed of was a mating bond to snap.

And you never thought it would be with another High Lord.

The very moment you had stepped into Summer soil, Tarquin had been nothing but kind and gentle, helping you through your decade of healing. He allowed you to take your time — he allowed you to wallow, he allowed you to be silent, he allowed you to grieve, something that you never were able to do while you were in Valeris. He allowed you to cry in anguish, he allowed you to cry in pain — he allowed the forty-nine years of suffering to seep out of your aching body. And he was silently there, beside you, watching over you… to ensure you were safe and well cared for while you did.

And that was all you could have wished for while you were healing. You didn’t need words, you didn’t need condolences… Tarquin allowed you to heal in the way that your heart and mind needed.

All the while Tarquin healed your broken soul that came upon the betrayal from Night Court, you would be sent back to Dawn Court to mend your mind and body from the tortures of the Attor. The two High Lords worked in tandem with one another… all for you. Both Tarquin and Thesan realized your worth, both realized your importance and believed it was worth their power and time to heal you.

It had been five years since you came from Dawn Court when the mating bond snapped between you and Tarquin.

It was when your nightmares had resurrected themselves from the grave, haunting you thoroughly to the point you had relapsed back from your progress.

You had screamed and clawed against everything that had neared you, your eyes frantic at the absolute fear and dread of returning to that moment in your life — the pain of the Attor and betrayal of your husband, that still lurked in the darkness of your fear. You had hurt yourself, multiple times during that relapse — skin broken with knives, daggers, broken glass — anything that your hands got to… hoping for the pain to seep out of your skin.

But Tarquin was there through all of that — grabbing and hiding everything that you could try to hurt yourself with. He fought tooth and nail to get to you, whispering sweet nothings — that you were worth it, you were worth the pain and anguish, that you were worth everything. And that you would get through the pain — and that he’d be right beside you through it.

You couldn’t feel it, the glow of the mating bond between the two of you — for you were too shrouded in your fear to notice.

All the while, Tarquin felt every emotion you had felt — the despair, the anguish, the pain that wracked your body. He fought back all the tears as he held you against him, pouring as much care and love through the newly found bond.

The relapse had taken an immense hit on your health — you were sick for weeks on end, going in and out of consciousness barely able to make out who had been taking care of you.

When you had been well enough, you had learned that Tarquin, himself, had been the one to care for you during your illness. And you, though you shouldn’t have been, was surprised at that fact. The High Lord of Summer Court took time away from his busy schedule to tend to you. He had owed you nothing… and yet he had taken time to care for you.

“Why did you do that…?” you had asked, storming into his office, pausing mid-step when you had seen Thesan and the Captain in the room. It seemed that you had interrupted an important meeting between the two High Lords — possibly about your condition.

Tarquin looked at you for a moment, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Thesan and gave him an apologetic nod of his head. Thesan glanced between the two of you before standing up from his seat on the plush couch and heading your way. The High Lord of Dawn smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Hello, my child… be nice to him…”

The request was confusing to you as you allowed the High Lord and Captain to step out of the room, the click of the door resonating behind you — leaving you and Tarquin alone in that grand room. The atmosphere grew awkward and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip, you glanced everywhere besides the High Lord, and you heard him let out a chuckle.

You frowned, glaring at him slightly before watching him stand up and walk towards you, reaching out a hand for you to hold, “We have much to talk about, (Y/N)…” he murmured.

You stared at his hand, sighing softly before reaching over to place you had on top of his. His had always radiated warmth that you seemed to want to grasp onto often — it was warm and inviting, much like the summer sun he had ruled over. You followed him further into his office, walking past his desk and onto the large balcony overviewing his Court. There was a large settee that Tarquin led you to, sitting you down before he sat next to you, leaving a gap between both of you.

“Now… What was it you were saying, (Y/N)? About why I did that?” he questioned, turquoise hues staring at the massive land of his Court, allowing the summer breeze to greet the two of you.

Relaxing against the settee, you remained quiet for a few moments, eyes fluttering close at the breeze that tickled your skin. When you opened your eyes once more and turned your attention to the High Lord, you were slightly startled when you noticed he was staring at you — something in his eyes sparkling that you were unsure of… or slightly denied.

“…Why did you take care of me when I was ill?” you asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush, “You didn’t owe me anything, this… arrangement between us is only until I get better and can move on from my nightmares—”

“When did I say that this… arrangement is only until you get better?” he interrupted you with a raised brow, “I did not say anything like that. I am allowing you to stay until you want to leave… I’m giving you the choice to stay and to heal the way you need, unlike your time in Night Court. And, I took care of you because I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t let you hurt yourself like you did, to be so haunted by your nightmares every waking second… I couldn’t let you suffer the way Rhysand let you for all those months…”

You flinched at the name of your former husband. It still ached — no matter how long it had been, it still ached hearing his name. Usually, Tarquin and Thesan avoided saying his name around you, both afraid of a possible relapse. You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes stared at something beyond him, a distant stare — feeling yourself move out of your body, a sensation that had started to become normal for you ever since you were in Dawn Court.

Feeling Tarquin’s warmth again, you blinked twice before focusing on him again a small smile tugged on your lips, and shook your head, “…I’m fine…” you whispered, head tilting down to look at your intertwined hands. You took deep breaths, something that Thesan had taught you after your moments of distance.

Tug, tug… you felt something in your chest. Your head tilted in confusion until you felt it again — tug, tug… You lifted your head and looked at the High Lord once more. You saw a twinkle in those turquoise hues, a hopeful look hidden within those depths.

“…What…” you muttered in disbelief, and you felt another tug in your chest.

“You felt it, did you not, (Y/N)?” Tarquin questioned, leaning forward slightly, warm hands gently gripping yours — as if preventing you from running away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, too scared for any words to escape you.

How could a mating bond happen? After everything that happened to you, your mind and body were broken, being held together by pieces of tape held together by Tarquin and Thesan — you could barely hold yourself together. Your healing process for the past fifteen years was slow, and there were many times when you believed you would never be okay again. How can someone like you be mated to another High Lord? How can someone as broken as you be another leader of a Court?

Thoughts of insecurities passed through your mind, unknowingly sending them down the newly formed bond. You were startled out of your thought by Tarquin’s hand gently caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“You do not have to accept the mating bond, as of yet, (Y/N)… I will wait, you can heal. Just know that I accept you, even if you are broken and torn. You still have years of healing to do, but I will be by your side — always.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as he shifted closer, pressing his hands on your cheeks to wipe them away. All you can do is nod. Allowing the love and warmth of the bond to slowly heal you.

It had been another five years since then. A little over two decades after you left Night Court to accept the bond. For five years, Tarquin had courted you, cared for you… loved you the way you needed. He did not force anything onto you and allowed you to fall in love with him in such a natural way that it felt second nature to you.

“…(Y/N)…” your mate called out to you, snapping out of your trance.

You blinked and refocused on the present, eyes focusing on Tarquin who had moved from his spot at his desk to you, hands rubbing your shoulders. Tilting your head back, you gave him a smile, reaching up with your free hand to reach up to run your fingers against his cheek as he looked down at you.

“No… I would like to invite them. I think… I need closure from my time there. And…” there was hesitance in your voice at the next words, “I do miss them. I lived with them for centuries, and all of a sudden I cut them off my life for a good reason… there are times when I missed them.”

Tarquin hummed understandingly as he squeezed your shoulders, “Understandable. We will invite them… But I worry—-”

“—- I won’t relapse. I promise…” you moved from your lounging position to sitting up, shifting so you were on your knees, at eye level with him. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist so you were steady as your hands placed themselves on his biceps, playing around with the fabric of his outfit, “I’m better — well, as best I can be — but I know you’ll be there… I will be fine.”

There was reluctance in his features, those turquoise hues trying to find any lie in your words before he gave you a nod.

“I concede…” he murmured and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitancy in his words. Pressing a gentle kiss on the High Lord’s cheek, murmuring a thank you before moving back to your position on the lounge chair, picking up your book once more.

You looked back up to just miss the shake of his head, before he wrapped a hand around your neck, tilting your head up so he could lean down to press a kiss on your lips, “After our mating ceremony, I wish for you to initiate our kisses, my stardust…”

Feeling the warmth of your cheeks you stared up at him, “If that is the wish of my High Lord, then it shall happen…”

He let out a low chuckle before pressing another kiss on your lips, your book forgotten on your lap.

The ceremony venue was extravagant, to say the least — Tarquin, as well as Thesan from what you had gathered, pulled all the stops. The throne room of Summer Court was flourishing with flowers and the summer sun radiating down through all the large windows.

You were a nervous mess sitting in your room. It was still several hours before the ceremony, that you weren’t too nervous for; it was the fact that you were going to meet your old family once more.

The Captain of Dawn, your dear friend, had informed you that the Inner Circle just arrived at the outskirts of Summer Court. And that set off your nerves completely.

You had requested, when you had sent the letter to Night Court, to meet with them before your ceremony — to officially close the wounds between all of you.

And so when a knock startled you out of your worries, you turned around in your chair from your vanity where you were getting ready. Watching those doors open to reveal your old family.

There stood Rhysand, in his Night Court attire along with Feyre, who was at his side. There was a pang in your chest, the pain of their betrayal somehow festering its way back into your heart. But it was slowly soothed out by the warmth of the mating bond that Tarquin seemed to have sent your way. The doors closed behind the Inner Circle, and you noticed the Captain of Dawn stationed at the door.

Thesan’s lover is quite a busybody isn’t he…? You had sent down the bond to your mate. And all you felt was Tarquin’s chuckle as you focused back on the now.

You slowly stood up, a small smile on your features before you watched from the corner of your eye Mor heading to a sprint and giving you the biggest hug.

“… I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” she apologized, the words repeating on her lips as she squeezed you, burying her head into your neck.

Tears pricked the edge of your eyes as your arms wrapped around her and you buried your head to the crook of her neck, letting the blond curls tickle your face.

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

A sob wracked through the blonde’s body, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re better…” she whispered before pulling back and staring at you, “I’m glad you found your mate. I’m glad that he’s making you happy — that you deserve happiness — after all the shit you went through and everything we had put you under…”

You smiled at her as you felt her cup your cheeks, nodding your head, “… — Thank you, Mor. I’m glad to see you again, truly. I missed you so much…”

A smile tugged on Mor’s features, “We will see each other more… if you let us.”

You nodded your head as she stepped away, allowing the rest of the Inner Court to greet you — hugging you and whispering their utmost apologies and congratulations.

Cassian had lifted you into his arms, something he used to do often when you were his Lady still, giving you a spin, “You will always be my Lady, (Y/N)…” he whispered into your ears, pressing a kiss against your cheek before literally handing you off to Azriel.

A giggle escaped your lips as you hugged the Spymaster as he pressed a kiss on your opposite cheek, “We will forever live with the regret of losing you…” Azriel hummed out, “We had and always will love you… But I wish for nothing but happiness for you…”

Your heart flourished at the words of your former family — the words that you had wished to hear two decades ago — slowly piecing your heart and soul back together. You had known, while you were healing, that they had always cared for you and that never meant to put so much pressure on you, unknowing of your nightmares and struggles after being Under the Mountain.

When you were settled back onto your feet, you turned to face Rhysand. The tension between the two of you was still high and you fought back all the urge to just run away from this confrontation between the two of you. You gave him a small smile before focusing your attention on Feyre who stepped up, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I am truly sorry…” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours.

You understood why Rhysand fell in love with Feyre. You had heard of the great deeds she had done for Night Court, for Prythian… she was something you could never have been next to Rhysand. The true High Lady of Night Court.

And somehow, you were okay with it.

Shaking your head, you looked at the High Lady, “…You were just following the feeling of the mating bond. Like I said that night, I cannot fault you for choosing your mate. I cannot fault you for following the tug… I — I would like to extend my congratulations —-”

Feyre shook her head, brows knitting at your words, “Do not, please. I will not accept that not when I have unknowingly broken you along with the rest of your family. ”

You looked at her, nodding your head as you felt her step back and the familiar scent and presence of your former husband taking her place. You lifted your eyes to look into violet ones — ones that sparkled with regret, ones that you were in love with for so long.

Even if it was two decades that passed, you felt like you were still in sync with him, knowing what he wanted. Turning onto your heels, you made your way to one of the furthest balconies, Rhysand following your steps. The large window doors closed behind you, leaving both of you in a pocket of privacy away from prying ears. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the Captain making his way closer to the doors and all you could do was hold a hand up — signaling that you were fine and safe.

Turning back around, you focused on Rhysand who’s eyes were solely on you. Stepping past him, you made your way to the railing, pressing your hands on the warm marble, as you basked in the summer sun.

“(Y/N)…” Rhysand whispered one that was so quiet that the wind barely was able to carry it to your sensitive ears.

“I… I cannot forgive you, Rhysand…” you declared, eyes still closed as you let the warmth of your new home wash over you, to comfort you as you confront your past, “I cannot and do not fault you for choosing her. I can see why you had fallen for her — she’s beautiful, both inside and out. But I cannot forgive you for it. You had broken me so much, that there were many times during my healing that I wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me. Wondering what I have done to make you choose someone else other than your wife who stood next to you for centuries.”

You could hear the shaky breath that Rhysand exhaled as you felt him stand next to you on the balcony.

You couldn’t look at him, every fiber in your body shaking to break again if you looked at him. You needed to be strong — for yourself and for the people around you who worried immensely for your health.

“I know… I know you would never forgive me, (Y/N). I have accepted that truth… I just wish things ended differently, you know? I wanted to let you know, that there was not a moment in our centuries together as husband and wife that I wished you were my mate… that there was not a moment that I did not love you…”

A broken laugh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and looked up at him once more, seeing those unshed tears in violet hues.

“… And there was not a time where I wished you were my mate… But it seems that Mother had a different path for both of us. One that led us away from each other.”

You reached up, with shaky hands, and attempted to touch him; however, your body paused, and with furrowed brows, you dropped your hand back onto your side. You could see Rhysand’s body slouched slightly as if missing your touch. A forced smile tugged onto your lips as you stepped back, creating a significant distance between the two of you, “… I hope you enjoy the ceremony, Rhysand…”

He knew when he was dismissed and he smiled at you before stepping out of the balcony. You watched with longing and pain as he and the Inner Court stepped out of your room.

“… Probably it wasn’t such a good idea to have the two of you alone together…” The Captain commented, stepping onto the balcony, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine… just give me a moment…” you whispered, pressing a hand against your chest, to calm down your heart. You slouched against the railing for a few minutes, feeling the bond in your chest to help your racing heart.

“…Do you need me—-”

“No… I don’t need Tarquin or Thesan right now. They’re in their own state of panic already…”

The Captain let out a chuckle, “That is true… They have set their mind to ensure that this ceremony would be perfect…”

After calming your heart, you straightened up and gave the Captain a light smirk, “…Busybodies the lot of them…” You stepped back into your room, allowing yourself to fix yourself up before the ceremony, the Captain following your trail.

You stood on the dias of the throne room, Tarquin by your side as the priestess started the ceremony. Your gown was a lovely mixture of blue, much like the oceans that crashed below the castle. The priestess’ words had gone deaf in your ears as all you could do was stare up at the High Lord of Summer, love and affection in your features as well as through the bond.

When the priestess had asked for the two of you to exchange vows, Tarquin looked at you with the same look as you did to him, a soft smile on his features.

“Never in my life, I would have thought to find my mate. I had thought that I would rule my Court without a High Lady by my side. But that fateful day I had whisked you away from Thesan and Dawn Court, all I had wished was for you to be mine.

“My stardust…” the nickname always made your heart skip in your chest, “I had fallen in love with you… despite your broken soul and heart. I was honored that you had trusted me enough to help mend your soul from the nightmares that haunted you, and that still haunt you till this day. But I couldn’t let you know of my affections, not when you had set yourself into healing. So I waited, waited for years and when that mating bond snapped, I knew I couldn’t hold out for much longer. I needed you in my arms, I needed to have your eyes set on me — rather than looking into your past. And when you had your relapse… I had to let you know. I had to let you know that you have someone, your mate, to be with you every step of your healing process.”

You felt tears trickle down your cheeks as Tarquin wiped them away, “You deserve this bond after everything that you have been through… the Mother has gifted you this bond. And I am honored to be at the end of that string.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t even find the words for your own vows. All you could mutter to him as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you… I love you, I thank you, and I am also honored and blessed by the Cauldron to have you as my mate. Thank you for mending my heart. I am glad to give it to you, and not worry about it breaking…”

You watched through a tearful gaze, Tarquin giving you a radiant smile before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, “And I would never break it… not your heart that is precious like gemstones…”

You laughed as applause reached your ears, leaning up once more to kiss your mate.

Your heart was safe — mended together once more — and you knew it would never break again.

Tagging list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @abysshaven @prythianpages @leahoneil @rachelnicolee

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #acotar fanfic #rhys acotar #tarquin acotar #rhysand x reader #acotar fluff #tarquin x reader #( .one shot : breaking like glass )#( .inbox request : mended hearts and minds )

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azsazz · 8 months

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Break Up in a Small Town

Modern!Cassian x Archeron Sister!Reader

Summary: Based off of the song Break Up in a Small Town by Sam Hunt: You and Cassian have broken up and everything in town reminds him of you. It's inevitable that he sees you around, and it's hard for him to be okay when he sees you with your new man.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, drinking.

Word Count: 4,489

Notes: Small town Cassian giving me life rn.

_________________________________________

Cassian knew he would see you around.

It’s hard not to see someone he knows every time he leaves his house—the town has less than a thousand people for fucks sake. There isn’t a day that goes by where someone doesn’t stop to talk to him while he’s putting gas in his beat-down Ford Bronco or chatting him up while he tries to pay for his food in the drive through.

And normally, he welcomes it. He loves to shoot the shit with people he’s known since he was young. He’d run into Tarquin the other day at Walmart while he was picking up a rack of beer for tonight's party. He hadn’t seen the team captain of the high school football team since he’d heard Tarquin received a full scholarship to Ole Miss. He was the only one on their team to do so, though Cassian also had recruiters watching him at games. Thanks to a nasty red-flag tackle by Jurian which left his ACL torn during the championship game, they’d pulled their offers back quicker than a greased pig. Hybern High went all for nothing that year.

He still looked sheepish when Azriel’s mother had checked him out at the grocery store, even though he’s been of age for a few years now. Cassian’s cheeks flushed under her knowing look: she’d caught them more times than he could count when they were teenagers trying to find a way to sneak booze without her knowing.

The party is in full swing. Drinks are flowing and Kallias has taken over the speakers to play his mixtape. The bass is so heavy Cassian can hardly hear the words, but Vivianne’s vocals are grating, pitched too high and not on key with the rest of the notes. He shares a look with Azriel, who cringes, but clinks his beer against Cassian’s before throwing the whole can back.

Cassian follows suit, downing the cheap beer like it’s his job. It’s not his occupation, no, that would be working on cars down at Bryaxis’ Axles, but it’s pretty much his secondary one. He trails Azriel into the kitchen, wading through people gyrating on the makeshift dance floor. They round the counter laden with alcohol—tequila, empty fruity vodka shots that Mor has forced him to take with her, and some concoction of juices and multiple alcohols that nearly burned off his nose hairs when he smelt it—and make way for the fridge where he’d stuffed his beer. It better still be in there or there will be hell to pay.

“When’s Rhys coming down again?” Cassian asks, taking the beer from Azriel as he rises. He tries not to let his fingers brush his quiet friends. They’re marred and Azriel doesn't like when attention of any kind is brought to them, even though Cassian and Rhysand had never held it against him.

A house fire was the rumor around town. But Azriel had only set it straight with him and Rhys at a sleepover one night, when it was going on four in the morning and they were sleep deprived and drunk off their first beers. Maybe Azriel had thought they wouldn’t remember the next day, but there was no way Cassian could forget that his step brothers had taken the lighter fluid form the garage and set his hands ablaze because of their sadistic tendencies.

Azriel’s mother had taken him and moved as far as she could with the money she was saving up, but they’d only made it a few towns over, and Cassian is thankful. Azriel’s father had never shown his face in the years he’s lived here.

“No idea,” Azriel responds, stepping aside to let Thesean into the fridge. The fucker dips his hand right into Cassian’s box of beer, pulling one out before diving in for a second. Cassian grits his teeth but when the other man straightens he notices how glazed over his eyes are, and Cassian knows his threats won’t land. “You know he’s got that internship up in New York.”

Right, while Cassian could only afford to go to their local college, Rhysand’s parents sent him to the most expensive one they could buy him into. And Azriel’s had a job since he was a teenager, when hacking into cameras around town for fun turned into something that made serious money. He bought his mother a house and everything, even offered a room to Cassian, but Cassian wants to make his own way, even if he is living in a run down apartment across town. It’s his, and he worked hard for it.

“Shit, you’re right,” Cassian sighs. It turns into a full on glare when the backdoor shoves open and Balthazar stumbles through, arm wrapped around Emerie for support. The man’s eyes light up at the sight of him and Azriel, while Emerie parts with a sour look in his direction, slinking off into the living room.

“What’s up?” Balthazar slurs, leaning heavily against the counter. He looks like he might slide right off of it, but neither he nor Azriel do anything about it.

“Hey, Balth,” Az greets, popping the top of his beer so he has something to do. They’ll be trapped with the talkative man if they don’t think of an excuse to leave soon.

Balthazar’s eyes light up at the sound of the can cracking open, but neither of the men before him offer to get him one. No matter for him, he pulls a joint from the pocket of his jeans and a bat shaped lighter from the other, flicking it to life and setting the tip ablaze.

“You guys hear Feyre might be pregnant?” He says through a deep inhale of smoke. Cassian shares a look with Azriel, who never seems affected by any of the small town gossip. He never seems affected by anything, really.

His heart skips at the thought of Feyre. Not because of her and whoever the father of this maybe child might be, but because he’s reminded of you, her sister, the girl he’d lost. Gods, did Cassian fuck up royally when it came to you.

He takes the bait. Anything to get his mind off of you. “No fucking way.”

Balthazar smiles smug, holding the joint out their way. Cassian declines with a wave of his beer, but Azriel takes a hit, obviously uncomfortable with how crowded and rowdy the party has become.

“Yup. Apparently it was a one night stand with ‘the most beautiful man she’s ever seen,’” he bats his eyes like a simpering girl, voice pitched high in his best impression of the youngest Archeron sister.

Azriel answers through a puff of thick smoke, his voice already scratchy with it. “But isn’t she with—”

“Tam? Yeah, man, I thought so too.”

Cassian sighs, looking at his beercan. It’s full, so there’s no excuse for him to turn away and grab another. He’s wracking his mind for anything he can use as an excuse to escape the conversation, his night gone sour now that his mind is on you. It likely will be for the rest of the night too, and he’d rather sit on his futon and wallow by himself than to stay at this party.

“Speaking of Archerons,” Balthazar says, taking the joint back from Azriel. “How are you and—”

Fuck it, Cassian thinks, because Balthazar is totally drunk enough not to notice his full beer. “I think I need another drink,” he states, and Azriel glares as he abandons him with Balthazar. That man can gossip for hours, and luckily, silent old Azriel is the perfect listener.

“Isn’t the fridge right behind you?” he hears Balthazar ask Azriel as he retreats, but he doesn’t care. He shoves his beer onto the counter as he makes his way towards the front of the house where his Bronco’s parked.

He hasn’t had that much to drink yet, not even a slight buzz has kicked in, or it’s been dulled from Balthazar's painful topic of gossip. Cassian slips through the crowd as easily as a six foot five man can, girls trying to lure him onto the dance floor and guys clapping him on the back, rallying him for the next game of beer pong.

Cassain politely declines, reaching for the knob just as it pushes open and his heart stops.

It’s you.

His breath is forced from his chest by your beauty. You look amazing as always, hair done up to perfection and eyes alight with the shots you’d taken for confidence, a part of you knowing that you might see him here tonight. You’re laughing with Elain and Feyre who cling to your sides, and Nesta brings the Archeron clan to a close. Your steps falter and grin drops when you meet Cassian’s eyes.

Your mouth parts as if to say something, but Nesta’s interrupting and shoving you inside with a grumble and a curse spat Cassian’s way. His heart shatters again as he watches you walk deeper into the living room without a glance back at him.

He clenches his jaw and steps out into the cool night.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

You haunt him.

It’s a week later and Cassian hasn’t stopped thinking about you. How…good you looked, glowing and laughing whole-heartedly with your sisters when he’s hardly been able to even get out of bed. You’re still burrowed too deep in his heart. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hands, your—

He knows you haven't left town, but it feels like you have, with the way you’re avoiding each other. And you seem to be a professional at it, since it's been almost two months since the night you left him. He was a fool to let you go, not fight for you the way you surely wanted because he had accepted failure all too easily. You had made more than one good point. Cassian can’t be what you need.

Cassian hadn’t seen you at the football game tonight. The Velaris Stars had made it to the championship game of the season and everyone in town had come out for it, as the only exciting event for all to enjoy.

He’d gone with Azriel, of course, and even Rhysand had responded to his video of the winning touchdown. The popcorn had been fresh and the air was jovial, the night ending on a high note. The team is going to state.

Fiddling with the stations on his radio at the red light, he doesn’t realize that you’ve pulled up next to him until your giggles filter through the cracked window of your car and his heart stops. He thinks he hears you sometimes, telling him to knock it off when he’s had one too many beers or makes an ill-timed joke. The height differences in your small car compared to his tall one make it difficult to look, but he sits straighter and cranes his neck to see out the passenger window, and yep. It’s definitely you.

In your white Nissan he knows better than his own car. That thing is always breaking down. His heart pinches in his chest when he’s reminded of the time you’d taken it out into the fields to go stargazing. It wouldn’t start and your phones had died. Instead of walking ten miles back to town, you’d asked him to stay up with you all night under the stars, laughing and kissing like it was your last night on Earth.

Cassian wonders who's working on your car now that you’re no longer together.

He doesn’t know why you’re laughing, but he revels in the sound of it even though he feels like shit because he’s not the one making those noises coming from your mouth. Cassian wears a soft smile, thinking about all of the good times you’ve shared, until he notices the hand on your thigh.

The smile falls right off of his face.

His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the steering wheel. The bright red of the streetlight pours into your car but he can’t see the passengers face, all he knows is that’s a man's hand holding your leg and soothing over it with his thumb. His teeth grind.

You refuse to look his way. Surely, you must know that you’ve pulled up beside him at this Godforsaken light that for some reason will not turn the fuck green. No, they want him to sit here and see what he’s lost, how happy you are with someone new.

And when the light finally changes he can’t seem to move. He sees your fleeting smile as you take off and he’s left reading that silly bumper sticker Nesta had slapped on the back bumper when she was the one who owned the car, the ‘honk if you like reading smut’ in thick, bold letters laughing at him in the face.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

The worst part about this breakup is, everywhere he goes reminds him of you.

You used to hang out with the same group of people but since the breakup happened Cassian didn’t want any of them to be stuck in the betweens of your fucked up relationship. He couldn’t even suggest trying to be friends because the thought of that alone made him want to throw up. He could never be friends with you, he doesn’t want to, because knowing you in the way that he did and not being able to touch you and hold you and fuck you like he did was much too painful. He kept Azriel in the breakup and let you have everyone else.

When he goes to the McDonald’s for lunch he sees the booth you’d spent almost two hours in, wrappers from ice cream cone strewn about the table because you asked shyly if he would judge you if you went back for a second cone and he grinned mischievously and asked if you wanted to bet on who could down more ice cream. He won, of course, but it had been a valiant effort from you nonetheless.

When he went to the library to return the book he hadn’t even cracked the spine of. He thought reading would help take his mind off of the breakup but Cassian didn’t have the energy. Gwyn was at the front desk, glaring up at him as he slid the book across the counter for her to return. The workspace was filled with art supplies, a post-it note with Feyre and your names scrawled on it and he remembered that the both of you host a arts and crafts day for the children in town once a month. Gwyn had caught his eye and shooed him away. Nesta would have been proud of the shy girl.

When he drives down the country curves, avoiding the crossroads to your house completely. All of the places he’d haphazardly pulled over when you were searching for a place to have sex. But there’s no privacy in these small towns so the back of his Bronco would have to do. It was spacious, but never the place he really wanted to take you in. He wanted to give you a proper bed and worship you like you deserved. If you’d only given him a few more years he would have his own place, though you merit a plush, large bed instead of his paper thin futon.

Cassian stops into Alice’s cafe. It’s fairly early in the morning, but the place is still packed because it’s one of the only restaurants in town. Somethings off about him today, though, and maybe it’s because his mind hasn’t stopped working overtime, trying to figure out who was in that car with you.

Why hadn’t he been driving? Did you want to drive or was he so pretentious that he wouldn’t take you around town? Does he even have a car? He can’t stop overanalyzing the situation and he’s sleep deprived. All he wants is a fucking coffee and the town doesn’t even have a Starbucks yet, so he has to park his car in the overflow lot and go inside. He doesn’t want to be bothered, but the cafe is crawling with townies, so it’s inevitable he’ll see someone he knows.

He doesn’t expect it to be you.

It’s not like you’re sitting in any of the booths that line his path to the ordering counter. His eyes seem to gravitate towards you no matter where you are, and your playful flirting is unmistakable. He knows, he’s been happily on the other side of that banter before.

Cassian’s gaze locks on you first. You look perfect, unfazed by anything happening in the loud cafe around you. Dishes clang together as the waitress gathers them. It’s Cerridwen, and her twin Naula is manning the espresso machine, Cassian notices when the waitress nods her direction, letting you know that your latte will only be a few more minutes.

“Take your time,” you reassure, eyes sparkling as they move back across the table. Cassian wishes that Cerridwen would move out of the way so he can see who you’re smiling at. “I’m in no rush.”

And then she steps away and his world comes screeching to a halt.

He knows who was in that car with you because he’s sitting across from you right now, a fox-like smile on his face.

Eris Vanserra.

The most pretentious of the Vanserras, if Cassian does say so himself. They’ve never gotten along, mostly due to the fact that Eris is a raging, rich, dick and he’s from the boonies. The Vanserra’s are some of the wealthiest folk in town, their father, Beron, a successful farmer. They own half of the land in this town and then some.

He knows that Eris can take care of you, money wise, but does the asshole please you in bed? He looks like he’s all take and not give. He knows that Eris has a working car, a nice one too, so he doesn’t understand why you were driving him around that night, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment when all of the thoughts racing through his head incinerate with his anger.

Cassian’s fingers curl into fists.

Of course it’s Eris. Of. Fucking. Course. It. Is. It couldn’t have been anyone else? Not Bron or Hart or even Lucien? The nicest of the Vanserras? Cassian knows he’s been in a steady relationship with Elain since they were in middle school, but still. Isn’t it weird to be dating the brother of your sister's boyfriend? Cassian sure as fuck thinks so.

This is utterly ridiculous and he’s raging. He needs to get out of here before he picks up your latte and brings it over to you, shoving Eris further into the booth so he can slam his hands down on that table and yell, “Why him?”

Cassian abandons the idea of getting coffee and spins on his heel, ignoring some of the people who try to greet him, leaving the cafe as quickly as he can.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

“You knew?” he asks into the phone. The bite of pizza in his mouth turns to sludge and he feels betrayed, but he’ll let Azriel explain because surely his best friend hasn’t kept the fact that you’re seeing one of the Vanserra’s a secret from him.

Azriel shrugs, and something shuffles across the line. “I uh, I’ve been talking to Gwyn.”

Ah. So he’s finally trying to make a move on the fiery redhead from the library. He’s proud of Azriel on the inside, but it doesn’t reflect in his tone because he’s hurt by the subdued man’s actions.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You never want to talk about her!” Cassian’s dumbstruck. He’s never heard Azriel so loud, irked by his sad nature. His mouth parts even though he doesn’t know how to respond but that’s more than okay because Azriel’s not finished yet. “It’s been months, Cass. You can’t expect her to wallow in sadness for the rest of her life.” And, ouch. That one felt like a direct shot at him. “She was bound to move on at some point and Eris treats her well enough, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It wasn’t, and that just stings more.

Cassian’s reply is quiet, throat tight. “I’ve got to go.”

Azriel sighs down the line, sensing he’s fucked up. “Cass—”

“No, it’s cool, Az. I’ve just got shit to do. I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up on Azriel’s protest, making a face at the half eaten slice of pizza in his hand. Cassian tosses it back into the box and sits further back in his chair, running his fingers through his almost too-long hair.

Fuck. He can’t sit around and think about you and Eris together or he’ll actually go nuts. With a grunt he stands, swiping his keys from the bowl by the door. He has to work out his frustrations, and there’s only one thing that can help him with that.

He’ll go to work.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

“Cass?” Helion calls, “What are you doing here?”

“Just need to work off some frustration,” Cassian says, cringing at the hard edge to his voice. He flings his keys on the top of the tool box before slipping into his grease-stained shirt. He shoves his finger into the button to raise his car on the lift, snagging his safety-goggles from the shelf and sliding them on.

Helion appears, sliding back into the open doorway of his office, a teasing grin on his face. “You know, when I was your age, working off frustration meant—”

“Now’s really not the best time, Helion,” Cassian responds, taking his quarter inch wrench and walking beneath his car, examining the underside. He knows exactly what needs to be done, all of the parts that he can’t afford on his meager wages means that he has to purchase them slowly, one at a time, and it’s likely that the new parts will be worn in and rusted by the time he even comes close to finishing this project.

Fucking small towns.

“Girl troubles?”

Cassian shoots him a sour look that only makes the older man laugh. “Isn’t it always?”

“When I was young,” Helion starts again and Cassian rolls his eyes. The owner of the mechanics shop always starts his stories with variations of ‘When I was your age’ or ‘when I was young.’ It’s annoyingly endearing at the best of times, but right now, it’s down right infuriating, especially since Cassian wants to be alone. “I had a girl too. She was everything to me, and I had plans to marry her.” The older man's tone goes soft, longing, and Cassian pauses his work to look over. “A pretty thing, long, amber hair and all soft smiles…”

“What happened?” Cassian asks, but is weary, already sensing how this story might end.

Helion shrugs, as if after all of this time it doesn’t bother him. Clearly, it's not the case and Cassain wonders if this is his destiny, to end up like Helion, alone and longing for the woman he’s lost. His heart aches.

“She got away,” his boss answers sadly, eyes dull. “I couldn’t be who she wanted me to be, so she left me. Found herself someone better off than me.” Cassian wonders who it could be. Helion was born in this town and never left, never wanted to, but he’s not sure if it’s because the woman he is still so clearly in love with is here and he’s waiting for his chance to be with her, or if it’s because the man has nowhere else to go.

“Sounds similar to what I’m going through right now,” Cassian sighs, shoving his goggles up on his head. He’s clearly not going to get any work done, so he slumps into the extra chair by Helion's desk, a frown on his face. “Helion? Is there something you would do differently?”

The older man sighs, assessing him deeply. It makes Cassian shift uncomfortably in his seat.

And when he speaks, it’s exactly what Cassian needs to hear. “I would’ve gotten the hell out of dodge, had I been smart.”

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

The drink he had at Rita’s hadn’t been a good idea. His stomach is in knots, and the alcohol hadn’t helped loosen them in the slightest.

Is he really going to do this?

He had the entire night to think about his plans, his future. Had Helion been honest when he said that he should’ve left town to avoid the heartbreak that plagued him? Could skipping out actually help mend his aching heart?

It might be worth a shot.

Cassian’s backpack is light, stuffed with only the necessities. He’d called Rhys on his drive back to his apartment, and he’d offered him the second bedroom at his apartment for the summer if the Bronco could make it all the way up to New York.

It would be a change, a big one that makes his heart pound in his chest to even consider, but if fleeing town like a coward will help him heal from the breakup, it might be worth the shot.

He decides that he has enough money to make it to New York, and he’ll call Azriel when he gets there, or when he’s on the road and bored of seeing only the highway. He knows Az will be hurt, upset that he didn’t tell him in person, but he’s still mad at the quiet man for keeping your relationship with Eris a secret.

Azriel was being a good friend to you, that Cassian knows, but it still hurts. It hurts to think about Azriel hanging out with you and your sisters and their boyfriends, how he might even actually get along with Eris somehow. The thought of being friends with Eris Vanserra has always been foreign to Cassain.

He takes a last look around his apartment. Azriel will send down the rest of his stuff later, he knows it. His lease ends soon anyway, so if he’s going to leave town, now is the perfect time.

There isn’t anything in this apartment he’ll miss. He’d thrown away the things he kept from your relationship in a fit of rage when he found out about you and Eris. He’d regretted it immediately after.

Cassian loses a breath. A fresh start in a completely different state. This is what he needs.

He shuts off the lights and turns the knob one last time before stepping into the new chapter of his life. New York, here I come.

The streetlight spills through the open crack, illuminating the figure on the other side, hand poised to knock.

Cassian stills, hand so tight on the knob he thinks it might warp, the sight of you in his doorway a shocking surprise.

You’re twisting your fingers together nervously, shifting on your feet like you’re not sure what you’re doing here at all.

“Hey, Cass…”

#cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #modern!cassian #azsazz

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mother-above · 2 months

Text

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 9

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 9/?

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: violence, death, swearing, trauma

*masterlist*

Chaos was the perfect word to describe what had just happened. There was metal, blood, death, and screaming in every direction. The only reason Prythian was still standing was because Amren unbound herself from her fae body and bombarded fire and brimstone onto the Hybern soldiers. It took the Prythians several seconds to realize that the battle was finally over.

Azriel breathed heavily as he looked around, seeing Illyrians and allies from the other Courts. He was waiting for relief to wash over him, but it never came, his gut knew something was profoundly wrong. He looked around and tried to locate his family, his shadows tasked to find you as well.

Hearing a female scream, he immediately slipped into a shadow and arrived at the horrifying scene of Rhysand lying lifeless and Feyre sobbing over his body. He was on his knees barely functioning as Feyre begged the High Lords to revive his brother and when they did, that feeling in his chest never went away. Amren was pulled out from the Cauldron and yet, the foreboding sense was still there. At that moment, a shadowy wisp hurtled toward him and screamed your name over and over again.

Azriel shot up, everyone looking at him as his shadows scattered to find you. “Y/n- “choked out the shadowsinger.

Then in the distance, they heard a deep voice bellowing, begging to be heard. “THESAN! THESAN! HELP!”

Thesan’s eyes widened as his eyes focused on the limp body next to Callon. A split second later, Thesan, Azriel, the Inner Court, and some of the High Lords followed. Once they arrived, everyone gasped as they saw you sprawled on your stomach, eyes closed. Your left wing was completely drenched in blood, the muscle, tendons, and cartilage connected to your back were shredded, the wing half attached. The bones on your right leg were shattered, your tibia sticking out from under your skin.

“She’s still alive,” said Callon. Your pulse was so weak he needed to press his fingers on your neck.

Azriel couldn’t breathe. He was on autopilot and only realized he had made his way to you when his hand wrapped around your wrist as if he needed to feel your pulse too. He breathed out in relief as he felt life under your skin.

Injured Peregryns and Illyrians watched warily, their heads bowed at the sight of your bloodied wings. The Illyrians who gained respect for you saw how you fought and prayed to the Mother and Cauldron that you would make it out alive.

Thesan’s mind whirred, the sight of your body on the ground sending him into overdrive. His hands glowed as they hovered over your body, “Broken bones, wing damage, and a stab wound,” said Thesan. “There’s faebane in her system, I can feel it.”

The other fae looked at your mangled body in horror, if you weren’t part of Thesan’s bloodline, you’d have died the moment you hit the ground. Thesan needed you to sit up so he could have access to both your abdomen and back. With help from Callon, Azriel gently propped you up against him and awaited instructions.

Nicking his finger with a blade, Thesan placed droplets of his blood in your mouth. “This should help the faebane get out of her system faster. I’m going to need some clean water to flush as much as I can.”

Tarquin immediately went to your side and drew water from the clouds, as Thesan magically pulled back your damaged armor. As the cool water cleansed your wounds, it stirred you into consciousness. Azriel felt your body tense up in his arms as you groaned in pain. Your stab wound needed immediate attention, so Thesan worked on your stomach. The pain became unbearable as you slowly gained consciousness. You could feel every broken bone and your back felt like it was on fire.

Your eyes opened and everything seemed blurry, your non-broken hand gripping someone’s bicep as the searing burn on your back grew stronger. You didn’t know what was happening, the only thing you knew was you were in the worst pain in your life, but someone was there to help you.

Your eyes squeezed shut. “Stop,” you said through clenched teeth. “Make it stop.”

Azriel wanted to cry, his arms clutching you tightly. Why wasn’t Thesan moving fast enough? “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “Thesan is healing you, you’re okay.”

The sound of his voice did little to calm or reassure you, you were in too much agony. You were already crying, your face buried in Azriel's chest trying not to squirm away from the magical tugs of Thesan’s healing. Thesan spoke in a low calming voice as he explained every step to you, and when he was done with your stab wound, he warned you that he would set all your broken bones at the same time. You clutched Azriel’s arm tighter and braced yourself, a golden pulse came out from Thesan’s palms as a scream escaped your lips as every broken bone in your body snapped back into place.

Azriel felt your body seize in agony and he didn’t think he could take seeing you in so much pain. He looked down at the grotesque injury on your back and left wing, now that Tarquin had washed away dirt and old blood, he could clearly see the shredded muscles and tendons made by claws. He and Thesan made eye contact, their faces paling at the sight. Wasting no more time, Thesan began reattaching the strands of muscle as your body spasmed, your screams turning hoarse.

“Stop!” begged Azriel. “She can’t take it, it’s too much.”

“If I stop, she’s going to die. Her body isn’t healing fast enough because she still has some faebane in her system,” said Thesan gravely.

Thesan was right but Azriel couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering any longer. He looked at Rhysand, his hazel gaze piercing into violet eyes.

Please.

Wordlessly, Rhysand dipped his head and mentally reached out, his talons feeling no resistance from your usually heavily guarded mind. The High Lord of Night shuddered as he heard your internal screams of anguish, as swiftly as he could, he took control and brought you peace. Azriel thanked Rhysand as he felt your body slump, your breaths heavy as your body recovered. Thesan continued his healing and did all he could, but he needed to get you off this battlefield.

Careful not to touch your wounds, Azriel cautiously brought you to your unstable feet and let you lean most of your weight on him. He wished he could carry you but there was no way he could without hurting your wings. Thesan placed his hands on you and Azriel’s arms and with a crack, Thesan winnowed to Dawn’s healing tent.

The sight of your bloodied body made the healers gasp and rush as they prepared a private cot for you. With Thesan’s help, Azriel gingerly moved your body to lie on your stomach. A healer slipped a strong painkilling tablet under your tongue, something new that Dawn Court had been developing. Azriel stood in the corner as he watched Thesan and other healers start working on your wings. He wanted to vomit, the left side was half-detached and the flesh connecting your wing was mutilated. He wished the Attor that did this to you was still alive so he could kill it slowly and as painfully as possible.

The shadowsinger wanted to hold your hand but he would just get in the way. He should have been there to defend you, but he knew that would’ve done more harm than good, he would’ve been distracted. That’s why he let a shadow latch onto you, it would only report back if anything had happened. Azriel rigidly stood in the corner observing every single step, it wasn’t until an elderly healer tugged on his arm and urged him to sit on a nearby cot did he realized that he too was in pain. His wings felt like they were on fire and the healer knew it too because the first thing she did was bandage his wings so he wouldn’t be able to fly.

By the time Azriel was covered in poultices and patched up, the other healers left to attend to the other Peregryns and foot soldiers, leaving Thesan to do the final touches. Thesan was the most powerful healer in the universe but even injuries like this were going to take time to heal. The attention to detail was painstaking, every muscle, tendon, vein, and nerve had to be healed properly, or else you may never fly again.

Thesan had to be perfect, you didn’t deserve to lose your ability to fly, you had done so much for him to protect his court and he would never forget that. Thankfully, you were still asleep, the pain medication doing its job. Wisps floated around you, watching Thesan curiously, some of them boldly intertwining with your fingers as if they were comforting you.

The High Lord looked at Azriel and the shadows. “I suppose you’re the person to thank for saving my cousin from Hybern’s first blast. I don’t know how you knew, but if you didn’t call her, she’d be dead.”

Azriel watched the rise and fall of your back, the moment he heard Nesta screaming for Cassian, he knew something was wrong and called for you too. His throat constricted as he remembered how loud and desperate, he sounded.

“You’re her mate,” stated Thesan. Azriel blinked at the High Lord and then nodded. “Does she know it’s you?”

He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. She uh-- thinks it’s someone else…. I think she thinks it’s Tarquin,” said Azriel as he propped his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t want to tell me but now that I think about it, they seem close.” Azriel thought back to how Tarquin acted on the battlefield, his extra care as he washed all the blood and dirt away. The way the flow of the water knew your body. Azriel scrubbed his face and sighed heavily as he returned his gaze to your prone form.

Thesan slowly nodded as his thoughts flashed to the turquoise-eyed High Lord. Judging by the sight of the distressed spymaster, he wasn’t going to confirm Azriel’s assumptions.

“Did you know she doesn’t want a mate?” continued Azriel.

Thesan’s hands froze over your back, his head whipping to Azriel. “What?”

“She told me she never wanted a mate; she claimed it would make her weak,” said Azriel with a defeated laugh. He thought about the kiss and how you used him to distract yourself. “She really doesn’t want the bond to snap.”

Thesan pressed his palms against his eyes, his mind whirring at the thought of his stubborn cousin. He should’ve guessed you thought this way. “She’s going to need her family and friends more than ever. I am doing everything possible to heal her, but I don’t know how this will affect her flying. With her powers evolving and now her wings, she’s going to need us. If you can find it within you, please be patient with her.”

A corner of Azriel’s lips lifted, “I’ve hoped all my life for a mate, I could never let her go.”

Thesan hummed his approval. “You saw what she did today, she’s more powerful than I thought. The other courts will be wary of her, the humans, and faeries from Cretea and the Continent will see her as a threat. Word will spread about what she can do, and she’ll be in danger,” once again, Thesan paused his work to look at the shadowsinger. “Can I count on you to protect her?”

Without missing a beat, Azriel responded, “With my life.”

Of the times he had met Azriel in the past few centuries, this was the most Thesan had heard him talk. His voice was so soft and sincere, something he didn’t think he’d ever hear from Prythian’s best spymaster. Looking back down at you, Thesan sighed, he hoped you would be ready for the world when you woke up.

***

Rhysand called for Azriel, but he couldn’t stand to be away from you, so he left half his shadows and instructed them to stay with you no matter what. Once you were stable, Thesan winnowed you to your tent, your bed would be much more comfortable than a cot. After that, Thesan had to leave and deal with the aftermath of the war, to mourn and collect the dead so they could be properly buried. You also missed the meeting at the debilitated Archeron estate. Out of habit, Azriel kept looking over at Thesan thinking you were going to be standing next to him. The meeting had just ended and when his shadows informed him you were stirring awake, he winnowed in a heartbeat.

You groaned as you tried to push yourself up, but scarred hands placed themselves on your shoulders.

“Don’t sit up until Thesan says you can,” said Azriel as he gently pushed you back onto the mattress. Azriel crouched and placed himself in your field of vision.

With your eyebrows slightly furrowed, you scanned Azriel’s bandaged wings and your tent around you.

“The battle—we won?” you said trying to recollect your memories. “Something hot and fiery flew above me…. I remember falling. Why was I falling?”

It took you a moment and then you gasped, your neck careening to look at your back. Your muscles screamed as pain shot down your spine forcing your head to slam onto the cot. Azriel winced as a strangled cry came out of your lips.

You remembered the pain of the claws digging into your back. “How bad is it?” Your eyes were big and frantic, your mouth still open, unable to ask the most important question. Are my wings, okay?

Azriel’s gaze swept down to your exposed back, the skin raw and angry, the feathers still stained red. “Thesan worked on you for hours… he said we won’t know until you’re completely healed.”

Your lip trembled as your own healing powers surged within you, trying to understand the damage your body had taken. You sensed the extensive work that was done on your left wing, and tears cascaded down your cheeks.

Azriel explained how the battle ended, how Rhysand died to fix the Cauldron, and how the High Lords used their powers to resurrect him. He explained that Amren had sacrificed herself to save Prythian and how she was also revived by the Cauldron. You were stunned as Azriel updated you, forgetting about your own injuries until Azriel talked about how your body was discovered.

“When Callon found you, we thought you were dead, there was so much blood …” Azriel paused, reigning in his shadows that hovered over you. “You would’ve bled out if… you weren’t you.”

It hurt to nod. You lifted a golden glowing hand to check on your wings, to see if you could do anything to heal it. “I don’t know--I can’t tell if I’ll ever be able to fly again,” you choked out. “I’d rather die.”

Azriel cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears away. “We can worry about your flying later, just rest and heal for now.”

His hands were warm and heavy, you relished it as his thumb stroked your cheekbone. His contact was strangely reassuring, something you instantly missed when he pulled his hand back when Thesan and Callon entered the tent.

Your reunion with your family was only tearful for a brief time because you began to bicker with Thesan about your healing. You finally convinced Thesan you were okay to sit up and with significant effort and clenched teeth, you were able to sit up, the muscles aching. With your armor gone, you were only wearing leggings and a special brassier for females with wings. Azriel averted his gaze, but you didn’t care, you’ve worn more revealing dresses.

Thesan and Callon left to do court duties, you didn’t even bother trying to help them, you were in no shape to walk, let alone bark orders. An attendant stopped by to drop off a tray of food, enough for two people by the looks of it. Azriel took the tray from the attendant and as he set up an impromptu table, you peered through the tent drapes. It was already dawn, it had been a day since you had eaten anything, your growling stomach making Azriel smile.

Reaching out to pick up a cup of water, your muscles spasmed, making your arm feel heavy and numb. You tried reaching for a spoon, but the same thing happened, your still healing back muscles making you incapable of doing simple tasks.

“Here,” said Azriel. “Let me help you.”

He picked up a cup and let you drink, the cool water quelling your thirst. He took the fork and speared some fruit and pancake before holding it up to your lips. You chewed and stared at the shadowsinger who was diligently cutting your breakfast into small pieces. This entire scene felt strange and weirdly domestic, apart from your parents, no one had ever fed you anything and that was over a hundred years ago. This felt intimate and your chest burned at the sight of the handsome Illyrian warrior sitting in front of you. You almost swore something was tugging in your chest but after a deep breath, the feeling was gone.

“Azriel?”

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Why are you here with me and not your family? Not that I’m not grateful—but you don’t have to help me.”

Azriel paused, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to you.

Because I’m your mate! Because I care! Because I want you to know me and choose me!

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “You’re my friend, you’re hurting, and I want to help you.”

He said it so simply, so nonchalantly and it stunned you that someone could be this kind.

He watched you stare at him in awe, he thought you looked beautiful like this, your subtle glow illuminating the dim tent. He basked in your presence and attention, he hadn’t slept yet, but this restored him. Azriel was ready for anything life would throw at him.

***

You had trained with weapons and magic for decades. You had spent hundreds of hours reading about politics and observing the art of diplomacy for years. All of this was done to prepare you for your role in Dawn Court, but nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of war. Thesan and Callon watched you like a hawk, your strange behavior wasn’t lost on either of them. Even the Palace staff were keeping an eye on you.

A month had passed, and everything felt different and dull. You had watched your soldiers and friends die.

2,398.

That’s how many Peregryns died, the dead foot soldiers were a number you didn’t want to think about. You made sure each family had sizable monetary compensation, but no amount of money could ever bring their loved one back. There was nothing you could do but at least make it financially easier for them.

You went to visit Wyla’s family to deliver the money yourself and to talk to them about Wyla. Callon begged you not to go since it was his job, but you felt like you owed it to her, she was your friend and one of the best warriors. He was afraid they’d hate you, but in reality, it was the exact opposite. Her family practically worshipped you; they told you how honored Wyla was to be able to work alongside Dawn Court’s royalty. While devastated their daughter died, they were proud of her contribution to the safety of Prythian. Their loyalty to you and Thesan was unwavering.

The moment you stepped out of their house, you winnowed to your secret spot in the mountains where no one would find you. You wished you listened to Callon, you sobbed until you couldn't breathe, and tears ran out. It would have been easier if her family hated and blamed you for their daughter's death because that’s how you felt. If you had been faster, stronger, and more powerful, Wyla and so many others would be alive.

You didn’t even realize, but you had emitted that poison bronze fog again, it hung over you in the air slowly dissipating in the wind. Tentatively, you waved your hand through the fog, there was a chance it would’ve poisoned you, but you shrugged it off. The poison was your essence, you were its master.

While sitting at your desk doing paperwork, you would swear you heard the clang of a sword hitting a shield. Sometimes you could still smell the sharp coppery scent of blood, but it was never there, only in your head. Thesan and Callon seemed to have moved on faster than you did, they weren’t moping around like you were. You couldn’t understand how they acted like nothing had changed.

Your bones were back to their original strength, you were now able to run and train just like you used to. The fear of being ambushed or being thrown into a war was always with you. You slept with a dagger under your pillow and hid weapons in various spots in your room and office. It was a shock to find out that the Palace had no hidden weapons so you installed them and insisted that you, the trusted guards, and Thesan should know where they were located.

Your wings and back had finally healed but the damage was done, neither you nor Thesan could get rid of the scars. Some feathers on the left wing grew back sparse and jagged but that wasn’t too big of a deal, you’d have to adjust how you flew. The thing is… you have yet to fly. In secret, you had tried to launch off your balcony, you were able to take off ten feet into the air until shooting pain shot out from the middle of your back and you crashed and landed on your hands. You fractured your right wrist which you hastily healed before anyone could walk in to ask what the noise was about.

After that incident, you magically hid your wings and refused to let them unfurl. You couldn’t fathom the idea of never being able to fly so you chose to avoid the subject. Callon asked you why your wings were hidden the next day, and you got irritable and snapped at him. You left the poor male trembling and at a loss for words.

If you weren’t doing your duties, you were in your room, you didn’t even venture out to the courtyards. The owner of your favorite tavern even visited the Palace to come and check on you. Things that used to bring you joy no longer did anything to your mood. You didn’t have much of an appetite, you only ate what was enough to maintain your muscle mass, and things like cookies and pastries didn’t appeal to you anymore. Which meant your body had become sinewy and haggard, with dark circles under your eyes because you couldn’t sleep. Everything tasted bland and fae wine did nothing for you.

Thesan didn’t think he’d seen you genuinely smile since before the last battle, you were always staring off into the distance thinking about something. Thesan asked you but you always changed the subject, or you simply refused to answer him. You were secretive about your thoughts because you were angry.

The only reason the Attor had gotten to you was because you were distracted by Azriel. You and his High Lord gave him strict orders not to fly and fight and what was he doing? Doing both fucking things you had asked him not to do. The past few weeks, you’ve had a lot of time to think about your relationship with Azriel. Why did you care so much? How could he be so foolish? His injured wings were what slowed him down, allowing him to get surrounded by Hybern soldiers.

Viviane, Feyre, Azriel, and to your dismay, Tarquin had been sending you letters asking how you were doing. Your responses were always short and cordial, and after two months had passed, they asked if they could visit you, but you always declined. Thesan assigned you more tasks hoping it would get you out of your funk, but it only ended in you making multiple mistakes. Your cousin had enough, he was watching you turn into a shell of a fae, and he couldn’t let you slip further away.

One morning, he entered your room and found you on your balcony wistfully looking up at the clouds.

“Why don’t you go flying anymore?”

Your head slightly turned to him, the scarred side making an appearance before disappearing.

Thesan sighed heavily as leaned against the marble balcony rail. “I want you to get away from Dawn Court and have a break.”

Your head snapped at him. “What? I can’t leave, you need me! There’s so much work to do!”

He shook his head. “You walk around the Palace like a ghost. You barely eat or talk to us, and honestly, you’ve been a shit second. I have to fix every mistake you make. I think you need to get away for a little bit, I shouldn’t have put you to work right away.”

You glared at Thesan as silver tears shimmered in your eyes, his words felt like a slap to the face. Despite the nightmares, and your inability to fly, you were doing your duty and now he tells you you’ve been doing a horrible job? You knew something wasn’t right with you, but you didn’t think it was that big of a problem.

Before you could protest, Thesan spoke with such authority there was no way you could disobey him. “I’ve written to Rhysand, and he’d be happy to have you visit Velaris for a while. Rhysand and Feyre are coming after lunch to pick you up.”

Panic ran through you as you thought of the hazel-eyed Illyrian. “You could’ve written to Kallias and Viviane!”

“They’re too busy to deal with your dramatics. You’re going to Night Court today to rest and heal properly. That’s an order,” said Thesan with finality.

“What the fuck, Thesan. You could’ve talked to me about my work.”

Thesan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, Y/n.”

Your brows furrowed, the last several weeks have been a monotonous blur. You didn’t have the energy to fight with Thesan, so you simply nodded before heading to your closet to pack. Thesan looked at your retreating figure and thanked the Mother you complied with his request.

Yes, he wrote to Rhysand, but you didn’t know he and Rhysand had a confidential meeting late at night when you were sleeping. Rhysand didn’t need to see you to know something was wrong, your aura was the first thing he felt, your magic radiating from across the Palace. It was stronger than ever, and it was sharp and bitter which made Rhysand give Thesan a concerned look.

***

The small duffel bag by your feet was filled with a variety of clothes, you had no idea how long you were going to stay in Velaris, so you packed the essentials and some extras. There were a couple of daggers hidden in there as well and if they took those from you, you always had a stash in a pocket realm, that’s where you kept Deception most days.

You were standing with your arms crossed in the foyer with Thesan and Callon, you were still outraged at Thesan for kicking you out, but you think you understood why. The clock in the other room struck 3 o’clock and then Feyre and Rhysand appeared out of thin air. You straighten up and give the High Lord and Lady a quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Feyre floated to you and wrapped her arms around your figure, her eyes wide as she looked at Thesan and Callon in alarm.

It’s only been two months since we last saw her, she looks so different! Said Feyre as she telepathically spoke to the three males in the room.

Thesan nodded grimly as Callon looked down at his shoes, he wished he could’ve helped more.

Putting her hands on your shoulders, Feyre smiled at you. “It’s nice to see you again my friend, I’m excited to show you around Velaris.”

Rhysand stepped forward to kiss your hand before picking up your duffel bag. “You’ll love it there; everyone is excited to see you.”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you,” you murmured. You could see the couple not so discreetly looking at the empty space where your wings should be.

Saying his goodbyes, Thesan pulled you into a hug and whispered. “You can come home anytime but I want you to come back when you’re truly happy.”

Your forehead creased. What the hell does that mean?

Preparing to winnow, Feyre took your hand as the High Lord and High Lady nodded to your cousin and Callon.

With a crack, you were suddenly greeted with a cold burst of air. They had winnowed you to the base of a mountain and if you craned your head, you could see a manor that was built into the mountain rock. Looking around, your gaze landed on the glowing nearby city, it was beautiful and for the first time in a long time, something took your breath away.

Rhysand was holding out a coat for you and you gladly took it, it was much colder here in winter than it was in Dawn. By its scent, the jacket belonged to Feyre so you thanked both of them.

Your eyes fleet around, for some reason you were expecting Azriel to be here to greet you. Rhys and Feyre bit back a smile when they saw you looking.

Clearing his throat, Rhysand extended his arms. “Welcome to Velaris, my friend. The house up there is called the House of Wind and that is where you’ll be staying. Normally, we would’ve set you up at the Town House since it’s in the city center but part of it is getting renovated. This house is guarded against winnowing, so you’ll have to fly up there.” Rhysand grimaced as soon as he said it. He glanced at you to see if you were upset but you just nodded blankly.

“If you ever want to head down and visit the city or go wherever, lower your mental shield, and call for me or Feyre at any time of the day. We’ll send someone to come and pick you up,” said Rhysand. “There is a way to go down but it’s 10,000 steps, I would recommend you fetch one of us.”

Feyre was mortified. It was such bad timing for the townhouse to be renovated. “You really can call on us any time,” she insisted. “We’re your friends and we want you to feel at home.”

With you secure in Rhysand’s arms, he shot up to the sky and you closed your eyes, relishing the wind blowing through your hair. He landed on a balcony with a thud and told you to have a look around as he went back down to pick up Feyre and your duffel bag. Feyre could’ve flown up herself, but she wasn’t going to rub her wings and flying in your face.

Rhysand and Feyre took you on a grand tour of the house, the only people here were the handmaidens Nuala and Cerridwen who greeted you kindly and with curiosity. They’ve heard about your unique ability to detect shadows.

The High Lord and Lady showed you the dining room, kitchen, library, outdoor throne room, and the fully equipped training ring atop the house. Lastly, they bring you to the door of your room at the end of the corridor. They don’t tell you that the room opposite yours was Azriel’s, Rhysand was trying not to snicker which made Feyre whack the back of his head when you weren’t looking.

They left you to settle down and unpack and, in a few hours, Nuala would come and fetch you for dinner. Now that you were alone, you slumped into a cushioned chair and stared at the city lights through the window. There was so much to think about, you couldn’t believe Thesan sent you here. Were you that useless that Thesan sent his powerful second-in-command away?

You were admiring the view when a clink made you snap your head toward the table next to you. There sat a steaming cup of tea, the china made of fine porcelain, and the flowers printed on it were reminiscent of the flowers that grew around Dawn’s Palace. Waving a hand over it, you deemed it a normal cup of tea with no trace of poison. Taking the mysterious cup in your hands, you settled back into your chair and sipped on the delicious spices that filled you with warmth.

Nuala knocked on your door and informed you that dinner would be served in 15 minutes. Startled, you looked out the window and saw that time had passed with you barely registering it. You were too engrossed with a book about the Night Court that had materialized on your lap. You quickly changed into simple silk trousers and a thin form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Unsure of what to do with your hair, you hastily twisted it into an updo.

You used the scent of cooking food to help you navigate the halls and when you arrived, you see Rhysand standing by the Fireplace with a glass of wine in his hand.

“Rhysand- “

“Call me Rhys,” he said with a friendly smile. You were going to be his sister one day, and he wanted you to be comfortable.

“Rhys… I wanted to thank you for allowing me into your home. I- uh, don’t really know what’s going on with me,” you looked up at Rhysand embarrassed at your admission. “I just don’t want to impose, I’m sure you’re all very busy and I’d be happy to help if you ever need anything.”

Amusement glowed in Rhysand’s eyes, he never thought he’d see the day the terrifying Golden Warrior would stumble on her words. “You are here to take some time off from work. I should be the one thanking you, you saved Cassian’s life and saved Azriel’s wings and without your magic, Prythian would have fallen.”

“He’s right, I don’t think any of us would be here without you.” said a feminine voice. Mor was standing by the doorway and made her way to embrace you. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

Mor’s arrival opened the floodgates because everyone walked in at the same time. They were shocked at how different you looked. You used to be ethereal, a soft golden glow always emitting from under your skin. The beautiful large white and gold-tipped wings were something they were used to seeing, and now it was gone.

Cassian came barreling toward you and picked you up and spun you around. Nesta, who fondly rolled her eyes at Cassian came to say hello, her general attitude and happiness were much better now than when you last saw her. She waved Elain over and properly introduced the middle Archeron sister to you. Elain gave you a small curtsy and timid smile. She saw what you did at the battle with Hybern and was both terrified and in awe.

Amren greets you and you are surprised to see Varian in tow. You should have expected to see him here since the last time you saw him, his tongue was shoved down Amren’s throat in the war tent. He hugged you, trying not to act so concerned and shocked at your appearance. Varian had liked you since the day you winnowed into Summer Court, you were a breath of fresh air, something he, Tarquin, and Cressida needed.

Dinner was still being prepared so everyone was milling around between the dining room, sitting room, and balcony. Feyre had hooked her arm around yours and was chatting about anything and everything as you walked from person to person. A familiar handsome red-headed male entered the room.

“This is Lucien Vanserra,” said Feyre. “He helped us get help from the Continent; he was also Nuan’s informant for the faebane compound.”

Lucien bows, takes your hand, and kisses the top. “Nice to meet you, my lady.”

You gave him a pleasant smile as you dipped your head, if Nuan liked him, you knew you would too. He tells you how Nuan helped him tinker something for his eye and you find yourself feeling immensely proud of your mutual friend. Lucien gets called over by Mor and when he leaves, you feel Feyre throw up a sound glamour.

“Lucien and Elain are mates, but Elain wants nothing to do with him. I felt like you needed to know because it will get awkward and uncomfortable. It’s best I warned you because you’ll be staying here,” said Feyre in one breath.

You quickly try to get rid of the shocked look on your face. “Understood.”

The glamour goes down and you discreetly peered at Elain, you guessed you weren’t the only one who didn’t want a mate. You remembered Elain staring up at Azriel with her doe-eyes. Did she want Azriel instead of Lucien? The very thought made you frown. Looking around, you realize that the shadowsinger was nowhere to be found. Your eyes darted around the room for any sign of his shadows but there was nothing.

A faint boom in the atmosphere made your eyes snap into the night sky.

What the hell was that?

Cassian and Rhysand looked at each other and grinned, that was the sound of an Illyrian flying fast. A shadowy form shoots down onto the balcony, its impact shaking the mountain, the floor beneath your feet vibrating. The shadows dispersed and there stood Azriel’s tall menacing figure, his intimidating gaze searching the crowd, and only softening when they landed on you.

a/n: this was so fun to write! What do you like and not like about the characters? I wanna hear your frustrations lmaoo.

taglist ❤️: @inloveallthetime

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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achaotichuman · 2 months

Text

Okay you guys know what time it is.

Acotar Rant Time.

Okay, I know, I know, the idea that Tamlin will step down or otherwise hand the Spring Court over to Lucien and Elain and go to live his life as a travelling musician is one of the most popular theories (it most of the time involves Tam dying but I don't like that at all so we're going with him stepping down)

And whilst I see it as a possibility for canon, I cannot get on board with it, specifically because of the way the High lord's power chooses the next High lord.

Tamlin knew he was most likely the next heir since he was young, he was experiencing the power when he was a child and knew his brothers would kill him if they ever found out. He hoped that one of them could take the throne and he would serve in their armies and simply keep his head down low.

But what he wanted didn't change the fact that he was in fact the Heir.

The magic had already chosen him as its next High lord, despite him being the youngest and on the surface, the least worthy of the role.

This happens again within the books. Tarquin was chosen as the High lord of Summer, despite being Norstrus' cousin, and Varian technically being the next viable Heir. Tarquin would have hardly been trained for the position but would have been trained to be some kind of advisor or courtier for whoever the next High lord may be, assuming it would be Varian.

He even admits to Feyre that is young and considered inexperienced yet he tries his best and look, he ends up doing the same sort of thing Tamlin wanted to achieve. Which was taking in refugees, fighting for people's freedom, and trying to establish equality. I love Varian but he fell in love with a monster that wants Rhysand to take over Prythian, so I do not believe he would have tried to implement these changes. Possibly would not have even thought of them.

I say this to show that the magic chooses who will benefit the Court best, even skipping to other bloodlines if need be.

I believe this is the same for Tamlin.

When you read book 1, he is incredibly similar to Tarquin. He was not trained for the position but was trained to act as a kind of second, in assuming the form of a General. Same kind of thing as Tarquin.

He admits he is considered inexperienced but is trying his best. He fought for people's freedom, he took in refugees and post acomaf had a pretty equal Court.

My personal theory with what happened during Acomaf was a combination of many factors.

1- Amarantha most likely raped Tamlin under the mountain. Considering how she was lusting after him, she finally got him for weeks and he could do nothing but let her do what she wanted.

2- Being under the mountain brought up suppressed trauma from his childhood, most of which would have revolved around Amarantha, but also not being able to protect Feyre would have brought up not being able to protect his mother. Being tormented by his brothers. Being abused by his father. Then when they came out from Under the mountain, he wasn't able to suppress his trauma so well anymore, and become erratic and unpredictable.

3- Having the High lord's powers shoved back into him so suddenly caused him to lose control, and because he, unlike literally everyone else. Had no one to help him manage his magic, or help him control it properly. As Rhysand and Morrigan have stated multiple times throughout the series, especially in Silver Flames, uncontrolled magic will lead to madness. It can drive a person to literal insanity, which is what I think happened in the case of Tamlin (It was retconning but I am looking at the ways of which to bring back book-1 Tam within canon rules)

All of this to say, these are all outside factors things that could not be predicted. By looking at the factors of who would be best fit for Spring, Tamlin is the obvious choice.

He is empathetic. Connects well with the people. Fights for what is right and for freedom. He is kind and caring.

Post-Under the Mountain, and presumably post-curse Tamlin was one of the best High lords, his Court was thriving, his people were happy and even gladly went to their deaths for him and his Court.

The magic didn't chose wrong. It chose Tamlin for a reason. He was the best choice to bring about good change within the Spring Court.

I believe all of the outside factors are what led to Tamlin relying on his father's way of ruling, because he was unable to dig out a whole new path in the state he was in. Tamlin was living in fight or flight mode from Acomaf and onward and it shows.

I think Lucien would be a great High lord, but we also underestimate how the power is connected to the land itself and like it or not Lucien is not of Spring.

He is of Day and Autumn. It shows in his mannerisms, his personality, his way of thinking. And it will show in his power.

He will not be able to connect to the people the way Tamlin will, because Tamlin's magic comes the heart of Spring itself. He was literally forged for it. The Spring magic will be alien to Lucien, and Lucien will be alien to it.

We see how uncontrolled magic can affect the person it was built for. Now imagine that magic also not being built for the person using it. Lucien has no reason to even be able to control it, it would drive him insane as well.

If Tamlin was given someone to help train his magic, like Rhysand had Amren, Tarquin had Varian and Cressedia, Eris will have his mother and brothers, and Lucien will have Helion. He would be in full control.

Like a quote from an SJM interview stated, the characters find who they need, not what they want. Tamlin may have started out not wanting the throne, but he may very well find what he needs to control his magic and bring back his Court.

Tamlin was forged for Spring. Like Lucien was forged for Day.

Unless Sjm kills Tamlin, I highly doubt he will cease being High lord any day.

And if she does kill him, I am disappearing from this fandom because Tamlin is the only one keeping me here.

#pro tamlin #acotar #tamlin #acotar headcanons #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acotar headcannons #acotar rant

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redheadspark · 9 months

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Can you pls do august prompt 11 with azriel and his mate? .... Where they are on a honeymoon trip in the summer court for their mating bond and reader is like sunbathing whilst reading and az just unties the back of her bikini so he can put sunscreen on her 🤭

A/N - THIS IS BEYOND CUTE FOR AZ! Thanks for requesting this, Anon!

Soul

Summary - Azriel knows how to distract you, even on your honeymoon

Warnings - Just some fluff and a hint of suggestive moments ;)

Nesta teased you that you were going to be a bookworm on your own honeymoon, but you didn’t care.

Flipped to another page, you hummed in contentment as you took a small sip from your chilled water, the sun backed on your backside as your ankles were crossed on top of one another, your hair in a long braid over your shoulder, and your sunglasses balanced on the tip of your nose. As beautiful as Night Court was since you were born and raised there.

Summer Court was perfect for your mating bond honeymoon.

Rhysand had connections with the High Lord of Summer Court, Tarquin. He was compassionate and kind, younger in his years compared to the other High Lords but just as intelligent and willing to work for his Court. Rhsyand had a great alliance with him, so when you and Azriel got married and made your mating bond concrete, Tarquin reached out and offered one of his Guest Houses for you two to use. Tarquin also claimed that Azriel has helped him and his Court from plenty of threats and scandals that would have destroyed his people and citizens.

“You’re in my debt, Spymaster. So I wish for you and your new mate and bride to enjoy my guest house with a private beach, no expense of course,”

So it was the third day of your honeymoon, and you were enjoying every single part of it: the small cottage of a guest house that was nestled along the beach cliffs to be hidden from the public eye, the private beach that was pristine with the beach sand and water for you to indulge in, and your mate.

Azriel, sweet Azriel that always went on spy missions and was Rhysand’s second set of eyes in a meeting, was now able to unwind and not have to worry about the safety of Velaris. You rarely got to see him be loose in his stance or relaxed in his own skin, but now you had this new side of Azriel all to yourself. Of course, you were used to him being all over you when you two were alone together, and even the small amount of PDA that he would give you when you were out and about. Rhsyand was more than happy to kick his Spymaster out of the House of Wind for your honeymoon, giving you a wink and pulling you aside as Azriel was saying his goodbyes to Mor and Cassian.

“Be gentle on my guy, but rock his world,” He whispered in your ear, having you blush and smack Rhysand in his arm as Rhysand cackled.

Turning another page in your book, you felt a singular finger going along your spine, being very gentle and yet alluring at the same time while it started at the bottom of your lower back near your hips and then it was itching higher and higher. You knew that touch anywhere, it was engrained in you from the moment you and Azriel got together for the first time.

Azriel knew how to make you undone with his fingers, how to bring your pace with his palm along your skin, and how to calm your storms with a simple rub with his calloused pads. Long before you two married officially, you both were connected in more ways than one, but most of It came from physical touch.

His fingers were dancing along the knot of your bikini you were wearing, you grinning and biting your lower lip as you turned another page and saw the shadow of his silhouette hovering over you and your book reading.

“I take it you enjoyed your swim?” You asked, reading another paragraph as his fingers were still fiddling with your bikini knot, A small chuckle was heard from behind you, sounding light and relaxed at the same time as his fingers were feeling cool along your heated skin.

“It would have been better with my new wife joining me,” HIs replied, “Although I must confess, I do like seeing you all relaxed like this, your skin kissed by the sun,”

“Even with my nose in a book?” You asked in an amused manner. Finally, you felt the knot of the bikini become loose, your back now completely bare as Ariel’s fingers were once again dancing along your newly tanned skin.

“Even with your nose in a book,” he answered, moving around to be in front of you on your lounge chair where you were sprawling out. You closed the book, resting your chin on your hands as he knelt in front of you for you to finally see your mate.

The smile on his face was infectious, the kind of smile that he would never share with others, and that showed he was relaxed and calm. His skin was showing a new glow under his intense muscles and the shadows that would hover around him and his form. His ink-dark hair was wet and glistening in the sun, and his bright hazel eyes looked like caramel drops that he gave you on your first date together as a couple.

“You’re far too beautiful,” He murmured between you two, his voice almost being carried by the sounds of the waves crashing in the ocean behind you. You grinned and cocked your head to him. The way he would speak to you and call you beautiful or gorgeous always made your head swim and your heart flutter. No matter if you were feeling lower than low, he would always pick you up and call you divine. He loved your claves along with your hips and thighs, he loved the beauty marks along your skin and under your eyes, and he loved all that you had on your heart to be given to him.

“As are you,” You hummed back at him, leaning over a bit to give him a peck on his nose, “Far too beautiful for someone like me,”

Before you could pull away, he grabbed your chin gently with his scarred hand and looked at you dead in the eye, staring intensely into your soul in such a way it made you forget to breathe for a brief moment.

“You are without a doubt the most beautiful being I have ever seen in my life,” he recited to you, his voice strong and true as you two were gazing at one another, “I find your beauty beyond words, and it not just because of your physical beauty, but your soul and heart too. There has never been another in my life that makes me happy, and I don’t wish to have anyone else but you. For you to think less of yourself breaks my heart, and as your husband, I’ll make sure you’re reminded how beautiful you are, every day if I need to,”

You grinned widely, feeling his fingers caress your jawline as you leaned over to kiss him sweetly. Breathing in his sweat, the scent of the ocean salt air along his skin, and something that was strictly Azriel was all-consuming. It was both enough and not enough at the same time.

Azriel kissed your back just as sweetly, distracting you with his kisses to pull you up abruptly from the lounge chair. You squealed against his lips since you were topless thanks to Azriel undoing your swimsuit. But he was quick enough to hold you in his arms, your legs around his waist, and you both were chest to chest.

“Now I wish to enjoy the beach and warm water with my wife, and then we can use that lavish shower that Tarquin installed in the cottage,” Azriel hummed against your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. You leaned into him some more as you nodded your head, “And you can let Nesta know that you didn’t finish that book she lent you since I’ll make sure you’re far too occupied with your husband.”

“Oh, you’ll be the one to tell her,” You replied with a grin as he walked the two of you over both the beach, leaving your book behind on the lounge chair.

The End.

August Prompt Session

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lanitalay · 19 days

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One Day : Chapter 10

a/n: omg I'm sorry in advance. But lets celebrate that the series in done.

warnings: mentions of death, angst?

word count: 800

Other Chapters

In all of your years of knowing each other, Azriel never forgot your anniversary. Each year (except for the fifty that Amarantha ruled) he made it a point to bring you flowers. This one was no different. Some years he gave you your favorite flowers from the market, other years he gave you extravagant bouquets from an artisanal shop, but you always felt extra special when he would pick them himself. It couldn’t happen every year, but whenever he saw a field of wildflowers he would make a mental note.

He landed on a patch of green sprinkled with vibrant colors. There were daisies and cosmos and snapdragons and so many others he could not name. Azriel picked whichever caught his eye, only the most pristine made the final arrangement. When he was satisfied, he took out a piece of twine and tied them all together.

When he’s in front of you, that familiar wave of longing spreads through his chest. He takes a breath and kneels on the newly sprouting grass. He grips the bouquet so tight his fingers indented the stems. A breath, then another and he can reach out and touch the headstone.

It happened slowly at first, then all at once. The Mother granted you twenty years of mated bliss with Azriel. But one day you came home early from the clinic. It was your head, you said, it hurt. That became a regular occurence, until Madja didn’t let you leave and instead sat you down on the exam bed.

You contracted something from one of your patients, remembering when it happened. “She was just a baby… I didn’t think…” It was a horrifying realization. That patient did not respond to any treatment and in short days the illness had run its course. You knew it was only a matter of time.

Azriel refused to believe it. Refused to accept it. But nothing Madja did helped. Not even Feyre could help. Not even Thesan. It was a wicked thing that ran through your veins and shut your organs down one by one. During your final months Azriel did not sleep. Always looking for an alternative, a cure, more time, because it wasn’t fair. You had spent your life healing. You had put him back together more times he could count and he couldn’t figure out how to stop the inevitable? Eventually, when you begged him to let it go, to just spend whatever time was left together, he relented.

By then walking was difficult. A few weeks later, eating was impossible. The last days you mostly slept, the moments you woke were filled with your family saying goodbye. You made Cassian and Rhysand promise to care for him “he’ll suffer, he’ll mourn. But you cannot let him waste away. Please, promise me. Promise me he won’t drown, he’ll be safe, he’ll have a life.” Of course, they both promised.

Nesta spent hours by your side, brushing your hair, massaging your aching joints. “You can just tell Madja to give me more mirthroot, it helps with that.”

“Let me care for you, y/n.”

“Can you tell me some gossip? I don’t want all of my last conversations to be so melodramatic.” She scoffed but gave in “Tarquin is betrothed.” You made your best attempt at a gasp. “To who?”

“I believe she’s an emissary from Day.”

“He sent me a letter.” Now it was Nesta who gasped. “Tarquin?”

“Yeah, he found out about me dying somehow and wrote saying that he was sorry things ended on bad terms.”

“I was always sad we never swam in those pools.” You laughed at that.

You made sure to send the love that flooded your chest after each visit to Azriel. Wanting him to know that you were ok. That you were loved and not afraid of what came next.

“I think it’s time,” Nesta said with tears welled in her eyes, her lip quivering. A wave of numbness crashed into Azriel. He knew what those words meant. He could feel the bond dwindling each second that passed. Your breath was so shallow, barely there. Until you exhaled one last time.

Despair snuffed out his numbness. He held your hand and knelt by your bedside, kissed your hands and arms and face. He gripped your hands like they would keep you there, as if holding on tighter would keep you alive.

He summoned everything he could: love, admiration, devotion. He summoned the nights spent tangled in bed, the days walking by the beach, every touch, every kiss, every “Az”, every scoff, every fight, everything. It all accumulated in his chest and he pushed it down the bond. You had to know the extent of it. You had to know how much he loved you, how that word wasn’t enough.

But you were already on the other side, waiting for him.

#acosf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #acomaf #acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #azriel x reader #az x reader #azriel acotar #azriel

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shadowdaddies · 6 days

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Hello girly, there is so little fics about Tarquin, so can I please request a Tarquin x mate!reader. Where she is a quiet and kind female, it would be cool if she was a "lesser fae" (like she has a tail or horns). She loves him and doesnt really want a role in court, she just wants to be there for him. Maybe the high lords dont know much about her, and there is a High Lords meeting and she randomly appears (maybe pregnant) and just some fluff, and Mor, Feyra and Viv being happy because there is another female to be frainds with

ahh I love this, there's definitely not enough fics for Prythian's Most Eligible Bachelor™. Thank you for the request!

Less is More

Tarquin x Reader

warnings: this does get a little steamy at the end

Taking practiced, steady breaths, you forced your pounding heart to slow and plastered on a confident smirk as you took long strides through the open doors.

Your hand was slick with sweat against Tarquin’s, your mate giving a reassuring squeeze while he guided you to walk slightly in front of him. Were you a weaker faun, you would have been smothered by the table’s gazes burning into you, but you were not weaker. You were a “lesser faerie” - or so that was your title given from the old High Fae - but you were High Lady of the Summer Court, and remembering that put the strength in your spine you needed as you took your seat.

Tarquin took his place next to you, turquoise eyes swimming with pride as he drank in the attention from the room. He feigned nonchalance, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your hand atop his against the table. “Ah yes,” he laughed softly, raising your joined hands in display for the group of High Lords and Ladies. “Allow me to introduce my mate, the High Lady of the Summer Court.”

You smiled, unable to control the blush that bloomed upon your cheeks as Feyre gave you a polite smile and nod, Rhysand and Kallias both granting quiet congratulations.

It was Viviane who smirked, reclining back in her seat as she loosed a dramatic sigh. As the second High Lady in Prythian’s history after Feyre along with what you’d heard of her, you liked the female already. “It’s nice to have another High Lady at the table. Perhaps soon enough, each court will recognize their females as equals.”

Her icy blue eyes sparkled with amusement at the sight of flames on Beron’s fingertips, the High Lord of Autumn’s focus having never moved from the horns on your head, perfectly framed by your royal crown.

Conversely, Tarquin’s own stare never faltered, watching Beron with a predator’s gaze. He knew better than to bait the other High Lords - Tarquin found it better to rule as himself, a kind yet firm leader - and you admired him impossibly more for it.

“Welcome, High Lady. Let us begin,” Helion purred, his smooth voice emanating a deep power that seemed to bring Beron out of whatever anger-filled haze he was lost in. Murky brown eyes whipped to Helion, who returned the acknowledgment with a slight arch of his brow.

“Beron, if there is something you wish to lead the meeting with, please do so,” Helion drawled, his demeanor remaining cool despite noticeable efforts not to look past Beron to where the Lady of Autumn was seated. You made a mental note to ask Tarquin about that later, focused on keeping your chin high for the moment.

Beron’s eyes flicked between you and Feyre - the lesser fae and former human at the table - but wisely he remained silent. “Continue, Helion,” Beron ground out, and you had to bite back your smile at Rhys and Feyre’s wicked grins, darkness recoiling from where it had been ready to strike.

You sat through the meeting, listening to male egos battle each other over petty squabbles, only interjecting as you and Tarquin found necessary. It was easy to find where you would fit in with this group. While it was clear Autumn would never accept you and Dawn was ambivalent, you felt a fast kinship towards Night and Winter - unsurprising, given those courts were who your wise mate was most drawn to.

As soon as the meeting ended, Beron quickly cleared, leaving the Lady of Autumn to scurry behind him. Your heart hurt for her, her eyes tired as her eldest son seemed to be the only person who paid her any mind. The other High Lords dispersed, only Night and Winter lingering behind with Tarquin and you.

“Finally, that’s over!” the Night Court’s emissary, Morrigan, practically squealed as she maneuvered around the table to you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

A surprised laugh escaped you at her kind and gentle touch, the dichotomous nature of the Night Court’s leaders jarring despite Tarquin’s advance notice.

“So, would you tell us the story of how you and Tarquin met?” Viviane pressed, her arm looping through yours as Feyre fell into step alongside the both of you. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk with them - both High Fae from such different backgrounds - but you felt beyond blessed by the Mother for not only allies, but new friends through your role.

The crescent moon was high in the sky, stars twinkling impossibly bright when you felt the heavy need for sleep weigh upon you. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes struggling to stay open until familiar hands draped a jacket over your shoulders, and you stirred to see Feyre, Morrigan, and Viviane all slowly rising.

Bidding each of them a good night, you leaned into Tarquin’s warmth, savoring the calming scent of coconut and sea spray while he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair. He led your to the shared room in which you were staying, closing the door gently behind before peeling his jacket from your shoulders.

A whine escaped you at the sudden cold, and your mate chuckled, arms wrapping around you fully this time. Enveloped in his warmth, you settled against Tarquin’s chest and swayed to a silent melody, the rhythm of the ocean.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured against your neck. “You are always incredible, and yet you always blow me away with your grace and wisdom.”

He pressed another lingering kiss to your shoulder, working his way up to hover near your ear. Teeth tugged lightly on the skin of your earlobe, your mind growing dizzy with the sensations when he whispered, “I am so thankful, and honored, to have you as my mate and High Lady.”

Feeling the weight of the crown against your horns, you couldn’t help but tease him. “Horns and all?” but Tarquin’s eyes grew darker, turquoise eyes like a brewing sea storm.

He pulled your head to his toned chest, tongue flicking out against one of those sensitive horns. You mewled at the motion, the scent of the room changing with the fervor of arousal growing.

“Especially these,” he breathed, hoisting your legs around his hips before turning to toss you onto the mattress. You bounced against the silken sheets with a giggle, watching your mate lift his shirt over his head while his gaze raked unabashedly over every inch of your figure.

“Every part of you is perfect,” Tarquin whispered, white hair aglow in the light from the window, eyes shining with mischief as his body slid sinfully against your own.

“I love you,” you whispered, legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He once again kissed his way down your body, this time peeling away the fabric of your dress as he did so. Your consciousness drifted away at his touch, carnal feeling and deep emotion invading your senses while the only thought you could manage was that “forever is not long enough with this male.”

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spacerockfloater · 1 day

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You know what?

I get it, ok? I understand the concept of Rhysand being a morally grey character. I understand that SJM wanted him to be an anti-hero of sorts. I would be totally okay with him doing everything that he did and standing by his actions if he simply said “The only thing that concerns me is myself, my circle and my people. I’m here to protect my interests first and everything else second. I am no hero, I am just someone who puts himself and his sphere first. I am a selfish person and I’m totally okay with that. I do not need anyone’s approval.” I still wouldn’t be his biggest fan, because I do not tend to admire self serving people, but I would totally understand him. In fact, I might have done the same thing. I guess you can never know for sure what your reaction to something would be unless you actually end up in that situation. I get that the average person would protect themselves (themselves = them and their loved ones) but I do believe that admiration should be saved for people who go against the norm. People who actually put their foot down, say no, protest, fight back, risk their lives, experience loss for a greater good. That’s why I admire Khalias, Tarquin, Helion, Tamlin etc. Because they stood up to Amarantha while knowing the consequences of their actions. I wouldn’t admire Rhysand, but I’d support him if he just owned up to his shit and said “Yup, I’m your average person, I don’t care if I come off as the bad guy!”.

But he does not! He wants everyone to applaud him and thank him and feel like they owe him and appreciate him and and and and… Jesus Christ man, you did the bare minimum and you did it all when you had nothing to lose! Thank you so much that you convinced that frigid bitch to murder two dozens of children instead of me and my family, of course I am now forever in your debt! Relax. You were able to talk Amarantha out of directly harming the other High Lords only after you harmed others to gain her favour and you saved the High Lords only because it served you better to keep them alive instead of some irrelevant children fae. I’m sure that your people should be thanking you because you did it all for them after all, but count me the fuck out of it.

Last but not least: ACOTAR Feyre was, obviously, a hero. She was a morally good character. She sacrificed herself for people she didn’t even know. I’m not gonna debate that. I actually loved her in the first book. However, I think she went through a drastic change after her metamorphosis. Her “human heart” is actually no longer human to say the least. I’m not even gonna elaborate on how she became this cruel, unforgiving person that only cared about how people treated her, or how disrespectful she is towards other people like Tarquin because Rhysand made her feel entitled to do so, or how she is responsible for the destruction of two courts that simply seemed like collateral damage if it meant that she would get her revenge on Tamlin. I’m simply going to say that logically speaking, since Feyre stands 100% besides Rhys and everything he did and supports him, she’s also a morally grey person AT BEST, though I do tend to think of both of them as villains because after all, the very definition of a villain is “someone defined by their acts of selfishness, evilness, arrogance, cruelty, and cunning” and like, come on, this screams Feysand.

The term morally grey is so overused. Someone who’s selfish and cunning and cares mostly about themselves is, at least partially, a bad person. A morally grey character is at least half a villain. When did we actually start to equate anti heros with heros?

#acotar critical #acotar #sjm critical #anti rhysand #anti feyre archeron #anti feyre #anti feysand

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readychilledwine · 7 months

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Eris Week Day 7 - Free Day

Leap

Happy Day 7 of @erisweek2023. It is a double post day. 💙

Summary - Ophelia Archeron, the youngest of the Archeron sisters, is forced to meet with Eris and the Batboys, causing her to miss a day in the Summer Court with Amren That doesn't stop her from finding some fun in the water, though.

Warnings - Giving into intrusive thoughts and kissing strangers, OC tries to do the math for angles and trajectory, but the brains behind the OC hates math, angles, and formulations OC's thoughts are choatic and all over the place. Ophelia is an OC one of my close RL friend's asked for. She had wanted to know how sophisticated Eris would have handled a wild and carefree OC, so she has a few hidden pieces from me based on our book club coffee dates, but she said I could share this one. Also, she was listening to Geronimo by Sheppard when she asked me to write this.

Word count - 1203

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

"I don't know what the Littlest Archeron is thinking, but I would consider speaking with her, Rhysand." I continued staring through the red-haired heir of Autumn, grinning at the close distance from the edge of the waterfall he was. This wasn't a great first impression, but I really didn't care.

If I just get a good running start and jump…..

I felt Rhysand's eyes drift to me again before refocusing on the important meeting he and the other two bat boys had brought me to.

Azriel had ignored my protests, arguments, and pleads for Nesta to go instead of me. I understood the whole seeing and ripping people's souls was a rare gift, and Rhysand was always super excited to try to use to intimidate people, but I had been promised a day in the sun and surf with Amren. I was missing Tarquin, and Tarquin's beautiful beaches, and oceans for this.

He's approximately 2 feet from the ledge. If I hit him running fast enough, we would land approximately… far away from any potential rocks. Maybe.

Azriel looked over at me with his eyes narrowed as he watched me do math on my fingers. Eris also began to narrow his eyes at Rhysand. Cassian, though? His smile had grown. Being the bat I had spent the most time with, he knew the second I saw Eris on that ledge overlooking the waterfall, exactly what I was thinking.

Do I yell "Geronimo?" No. That'd be dumb. Focus, Ophelia.

Eris took a step closer to the ledge and made eye contact with me for the first time. For a brief second the aloof higher than thou expression left his face in favor of something softer. The conversation between him and Rhysand came to a full pause. Rhysand was holding back his grin the best he could while trying not to laugh as he entered my mind and quickly left after figuring out what I was thinking. I felt Azriel's shadows begin to steal my hidden daggers.

Maybe I should make sure I land first so he doesn't potentially get hurt. Lucien would laugh at that, though. And Lucien's laugh is my favorite.

Rhysand began the conversation again with his eyes meeting mine every so often. Mischief was shining in them like the reflection of the sun on the waterfall. It was almost as if he was daring me to do it.

Am I even fast enough to do this? I'm totally fast enough. Cassian makes me run everyday. I can do this.

"Enough! What is the little brat plotting?" Eris began to glare and move another step away from me. A few inches. 4 inches was maybe all that remained between him and that ledge. "I swear on the Cauldron itself, if you so much as look at my soul, I will -"

Fuck it.

I didn't hear the rest of Eris's threat as I broke into a full sprint directly at him. I jumped straddling his torso, effectively pushing him back hard enough for us to fall off the ledge. I felt his arms grab onto me tightly as we fell. Something inside of me snapped as he placed a hand on my head and cradled me for my protection.

His hands are so warm. He'd be wonderful to snuggle. This should be terrifying. Wait. He's laughing. Eris is laughing.

The collision with the pool of water came before I could process the sound of his deep laughter or even brace myself for how badly this could hurt. I felt him grab my hand in the cold, deep waters swimming us to the surface. When we emerged, he pulled me to him by my waist. He was smiling, and I felt myself melt under his gaze. His amber eyes searched my blue ones before he began to laugh again.

No one should look this perfect with hair stuck to their face.

Laughter rang from the ledge above us. Eris and I both looked up to see the bat boys leaned over the ledge. Cassian had his head thrown back, "Did you see his face?!"

Rhys was smirking down at us, "You never said she couldn't physically attack you, Eris!"

Azriel was shaking his head trying to hide his amusement, "You know, Ophelia, if you wanted Eris to take you for a swim, you could have nicely asked."

I heard Eris hum next to me as his warm arm kept me close to him by my waist, "Ophelia. So the Littlest Cauldron Made does have a name."

My brain desprstely wanted to respond. To answer him and talk to him, but shadows and light dancing had caught my attention. The waterfall seemed to sparkle from down here against a dark background. What's BEHIND the waterfall?

I wiggled from his grasp before ducking back under the waterfall. I surfaced in a small cove and pulled myself up onto the rock. Eris appeared behind me and pulled himself up on the rock beside me. I heard Rhys yell for me before seeing two winged males land on the bank across the water. Rhys appeared beside them seconds later.

He's so warm.

I felt a hand come to my chin as Eris moved my face to look at him. "Well, little Archeron, do you have something to say for yourself?" I followed the glittering silver thread that attached Eris and I at the heart. I felt it tug, so I tugged it back causing warmth to spread throughout my body and soul. A soft smile came to his face. The hand on my chin moved to the back of my head. Inches separated my lips from his.

Can he feel my heartbeat? Is my face getting really red? Is he about to kiss me?

"I can, yes, and only if you want me to." My eyes widened at the sound of his voice. "Mating bond," his voice was soft and warm as his other hand came, and his thumb began to brush my lower lip. The intensity of his stare began to set my soul alight.

Kiss me.

He pulled me to him the second the thought came. His lips were as warm as the rest of his body and so soft. I sighed deeply as he deepened the kiss and pulled me onto his lap. My hands came to his face, holding him to me. We broke apart at the sound of Rhysand yelling for me again.

"It would appear that big brother is no longer enjoying your antics."

My only response was to kiss him again. I felt my legs wrap around his waist as we sat chest to chest. He took control and dominance over the kiss quickly. One hand tangled into my soaking hair, and the other held me around my waist, locking me where he wanted me. A shadow pulled me from Eris before taking me to Rhysand leaving Eris and Azriel alone in the small alcove.

Rhysand snapped and changed me into dry leathers as he studied my face. I averted eye contact from him as a single brow raised. He stated softly, "You have got to be fucking joking."

Pain radiated down the bond, causing me to grip my jaw. Cassian's eyebrows shot up. He stared at Rhys, eyes slightly glazed over before muttering softly. "Ness is going to kill me."

Eris and Azriel appeared in front of the three of us. Eris was rubbing his jaw, smiling at me softly until a growl came from Az. Rhysand snapped his fingers to also give Eris dry clothing before leaning his head against a nearby tree. Eris smirked at me as the 3 Night Court males moved away to discuss the situation.

"Can we do it again?" I looked over at him, studying his red hair, angled face, and soft smile.

He rose his chin towards the ledge and looked my direction, "Jump from the waterfall?"

"No. Kiss."

Eris moved to me, a warm hand gently gripping my face and angling my head towards him, "I would kiss you until my dying breath left my body, Ophelia Archeron."

#acotar #acotar x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #erisweek2023 #eris fic #eris acotar #eris x reader #pro eris vanserra #Spotify

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