arialovesyou

[arialovesyou]

[Thorns and Roses Masterlist | ACOTAR Au.] ꫂ ၴႅၴ

Pairing: Azriel x Tamlin’sSister!Reader)

General Category: Angst)

Warnings: (𝑻𝑾) Angst, blood, general violence, alcohol consumption, allusions to sexual intercourse, course language.

Authors Note: This series contains physical descriptions of the Reader (you), Eye colour, hair colour, et cetera.

Summary: In the dreaded city of Hewn, Y/N struggles to stay true to herself and not give in to the temptation of losing herself in the unending parties and celebrations that so happened, the thought of wasting away on cheap wine and pretty faced men did not seem so unappealing as the days moved by. The bleak and cold air that surrounded the Mountain stripped its inhabitants of any sense of hope or self, she was aware of that - but when the famed Shadowsinger makes an appearance, Y/N is caught between losing herself in his onyx shadows and whiskey eyes or remaining loyal to her roots and hating him. And so she and many others have found out the hard way: when love and hate collide, it can be devastating…

Note: (By reading past this point you are aware you must be 18+ or over to continue and that you are aware of the warnings that come with this chapter. Please be careful. Thanks.)

⤷ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

Chapter 𝚰: ~Where the Wild Roses grow *probably could be read as a oneshot.

Chapter 𝚰𝚰: ~Bloody Petals

Chapter 𝚰𝚰𝚰: ~Prickling Thorns

Chapter 𝚰𝐕: ~Fading Flowers

Chapter 𝐕: ~Withering Leaves

Other~

Picrew

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[Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Taglist for this series or all my stories!

Last updated: 22nd,July, 2025

[arialovesyou]

[Bloody Petals | Acotar Au. | P2] ꫂ ၴႅၴ

Pairing: Azriel x Tamlin’sSister!Reader)

General Category: Angst)

Warnings: (𝑻𝑾) Angst, blood, general violence, alcohol consumption, allusions to sexual intercourse, course language.

Authors Note: This series contains physical descriptions of the Reader (you), Eye colour, hair colour, et cetera.

Summary: In the dreaded city of Hewn, Y/N struggles to stay true to herself and not give in to the temptation of losing herself in the unending parties and celebrations that so happened, the thought of wasting away on cheap wine and pretty faced men did not seem so unappealing as the days moved by. The bleak and cold air that surrounded the Mountain stripped its inhabitants of any sense of hope or self, she was aware of that - but when the famed Shadowsinger makes an appearance, Y/N is caught between losing herself in his onyx shadows and whiskey eyes or remaining loyal to her roots and hating him. And so she and many others have found out the hard way: when love and hate collide, it can be devastating…

Note: (By reading past this point you are aware you must be 18+ or over to continue and that you are aware of the warnings that come with this chapter. Please be careful. Thanks.)

⤷ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 <3

[Word Count: 2,661k | Release Date: 22nd, July, 2025.

[Y/N’s POV]

A horrible ringing in her ears woke her up, groaning, she turned over and stuffed her face into her pillow, “too early” she moaned, gripping her pillow—she suddenly found it wasn’t as soft as it usually was, opening her eyes. She came face to face with a sleeping Shadowsinger, his usually cold face soft in sleep, handsome almost—no! No, no, no! She shook her head, bad thoughts!

Y/N held her breath as she—as quietly as she could—slipped out of the bed that wasn’t hers, “Cauldron, give me strength” she muttered as she tip-toed around the room, finding pieces of her clothing like a puzzle, and with the grace of a swan she nearly tripped as she put on her dress, ignoring how much it smelt like him.

The female couldn’t help it as she stared at the winged male for a moment longer, wondering what it’d be like to wake up every day to him—not happening, Y/N scowled as she snuck out of the room, wandering down halls as she tried to figure out where in Hewn she was. Sighing, she found her quarters and drew a bath, scrubbing at her skin until it was red, until there was no trace of the Shadowsinger on her at all.

[Azriel’s POV]

“What the Hel happened to you, brother?” He met eyes with Cassian, frowning at his question, brows furrowed—he didn’t respond, trudging down to his room and merely changing his clothes, not ridding of her scent completely. Ignoring the possessive part of him that did not want to.

Azriel brushed past his brother once more as he entered Rhysand’s office, finding his High Lord relaxing at his shiny mahogany desk, twirling a small emerald through is fingers, anyone else would think him bored—uninterested, but he knew him better than that, for the Shadowsinger was a master at reading people’s faces, and he knew Rhys didn’t bother to hide his as he looked livid. Furious.

-

“Azriel, do you have any idea who you bedded?” The high lord said, his tone exasperated, he didn’t answer—but he didn’t know either, the one time someone showed some fae-decency to him he goes and sleeps with them, no wonder no one showed him any then. “Ask me, Azriel, ask me who she was.” He said, smiling cruelly as it, he knew, the bastard knew he was unaware. This was how the male had power over people, because he knew things you didn’t.

The Shadowsinger let out a sharp breath, finally saying something, “Who?” He gritted out, it was usually him doing the interrogating, so this was an unwelcome surprise. . . “Tamlin’s bloody sister!” Rhysand yelled, oh, he was mad. The fae-lights in the room flickered as power surrounded the room in a deadly grip. But why couldn’t he find it in himself to care who’s sister it was? Then again, Tamlin wasn’t his enemy—not really, supposedly by technicality he was—but he stopped caring about what was technical years ago. Or perhaps he’d lost his mind—stopped caring about everything and anything, only acting on routine and duty.

He looked back up and the look he saw on Rhysand’s face made fear flow through his veins, for in the first time in years—Azriel hesitated as he looked at him, it probably wasn’t a good idea to bring anything up right now as he winnowed out of the office the second Rhys’ opened his mouth to yell ‘get out’. Noted.

-

“Touchy, that one,” Azriel mumbled as he flew through the sky, through Velaris—anywhere that wasn’t the House of Wind, on second thought. He probably shouldn’t set foot in the Mountain house for a good few days, if he wanted to live, that is.

The male didn’t know where he was flying but he just knew he needed to get out of the Night Court for a while—to take a damn breath. He didn’t realise where he was until he started sneezing from pollen flying around—oh Mother. He sucked in a breath as he landed on Spring Court grass, cicadas singing in the nearby bushes, but other than that—Azriel was completely and utterly alone, and this time the silence wasn’t a welcoming reprieve.

Azriel was horribly aware of how loud his breathing was as he stood on a lush patch of grass. He wasn’t defenceless by any means and he wasn’t afraid, merely concerned about his well-being. Ever since his High Lady had torn down this court its ruler had gone mad—that’s what he’d heard, at least.

None of his spies lingered in Spring so he was left to rely on pathetic rumours, mere speculations. Sighing—he rubbed his temples in frustration, that little voice in his head called Common sense was screaming for him to get the Hel out of Spring, but that other voice. One smaller than the other wanted him to stay, they were like the devil and the angel on his shoulder. The only problem was, he couldn’t tell who was who.

A low rumbling shook the ground he stood on, making Azriel stop his pacing, his gulp was audible as he turned around and came face to face with the High lord of Spring, or what was left of him. His beast form was wholly magnificent and terrifying at once, “Shadowsinger.” Tamlin said. “Can’t you and your little friends leave me alone, or has Rhysand sent you to ridicule me?” Golden eyes narrowed on the Shadowsinger’s form.

Do not pity him. There was that little voice again, as if he’d missed it. He opened his mouth but no words came out, what excuse could he use? It’s not like he could tell the truth, Tamlin would tear him to shreds, and he wouldn’t exactly blame him. The nauseating feeling of guilt and shame at what he had done curled in his abdomen, By the mother, he had slept with the male’s sister. If he wasn’t already going to Hel’s fiery realm then he definitely was now.

“I—,” he started, thinking for a moment, “I was in Autumn and I accidentally ended up in Spring…?” He said awkwardly. He flicked his eyes up and met the High Lord’s ones as the male scoffed, clearly seeing straight through his lie. That was definitely fair, he probably should have tried harder.

-

[Hours later]

Azriel sat on a chair in his dark apartment in downtown Velaris, sipping on a glass of Rhysand’s strongest liquor that he had ‘borrowed’, mulling over his exchange with the High Lord of Spring. It had gone better than anticipated. But that didn’t stop the feeling of compunction that made itself at home in his mind. He knew one thing for certain, he couldn’t get that female out of his thoughts, he needed to see her again, even if just for one fleeting glance, that was all he needed. Whoever that girl was, she was like a drug, an addiction he just couldn’t rid of, intoxicating and mind-blurring like the liquor he consumed without hesitation.

He was aware there was another party happening that night Under the Mountain—and the Mother knew Azriel was not above attending just to see her again, to taste her, lose himself in her divine being, even if he risked the chance of getting pulled apart by Rhysand, but it was worth it. Wasn’t it? Or was he getting tangled up in something he shouldn’t? No. He was never wrong. To doubt his own judgment was not like him, he was thinking too much into it. Clearly, enough liquor was not drunk.

Azriel walked into the party—crashing it, was a far more accurate term—with a certain determination in his amber eyes, he immediately scanned the large ballroom for anyone who looked like her. When even his shadows turned up empty his crooked heart clenched ever so slightly. Perhaps she was too good to be true, the Shadowsinger wouldn’t put it past himself to have dreamt up a perfect encounter, much to his dismay.

He gulped audibly, tasting the remnants of his drinking habits while doing so, and he could use a drink. A very large and very strong one at that. On his way to the bar he was approached by many beautiful females and even males but he pushed past them all, disregarding them like he had anyone better to indulge in. By the time he had closed his scarred hands around the cool glass of a drink, he was feeling even worse than when he’d entered, guilt rearing its ugly head at the feeling of regretting all that he’d said to Rhysand. He was just trying to look out for him and he’d spat horrible things at him, let the male enter his mind just to hear all the nasty thoughts running through his head.

He rubbed his hands vigorously down his face, drying to regain some semblance of control. What was he even doing here, anyway? Looking for a pretty girl like a lovesick teenager, she’d most likely reject him. He would. That said it all, he supposed.

Azriel was just about ready to get out of this place when he caught a small whiff of a familiar scent, blood. There was no mistaking that metallic smell, he was familiar with such things. The Shadowsinger put his half-empty glass down on a nearby table and started heading through the crowd, his imposing, shadow engulfed form causing everyone around him to part for the male, he tried to take offence but didn’t. Oh well. His worn-down boots thumped lightly against the luxurious marble floor beneath him as he exited the main cavernous room and into the main hallways surrounding the place, some said it’d take aeons to discover every nook and cranny it had to offer. He did not doubt that, Azriel had only travelled so far, that was voluntary, of course - the place gave him the chills. And rightfully so, if he was being honest with himself.

He followed the scent like a hound until he found himself in a familiar place, the dungeons. The metallic tang of blood grew ever so stronger and he had to keep himself from cringing. Azriel didn’t hesitate or come to a stop when he looked ahead and found a metal door getting closer and closer with every step he took, he merely latched onto the handle and turned, the door made a loud and obnoxious creak that everyone upstairs probably heard. So much for being the master of stealth.

The Shadowsinger sucked in a breath as he entered the dimly lit cellar that smelled of damp earth and… other things he couldn’t name. He braced himself to see a gruesome scene, dead bodies, blood on the floor— but nothing, none of the sort. He surveyed the room surrounding him with a careful eye, stepping into the dungeon and looking for the blood he had scented, he swore it was coming from here…

Azriel’s eyes locked onto a part of the stone floor after a few fleeting moments, there, a single drop of blood, the size of a gold piece. That was where the smell was coming from, as he took another step closer he heard the metal door groan and slam shut, its hinges seemingly on their last legs. He whirled around and immediately locked eyes with you, standing there, knife in your dainty hands.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel rasped, his heart fluttering ever so slightly. You said nothing but he noticed the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed, how your eyes narrowed slightly and a small crease found itself between your manicured eyebrows. He should feel intimidated, he supposed. But all that he registered was mild amusement and fascination. He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smile grazing his lips.

“Nothing to say, Sweetheart?” He raised a brow, stepping closer to you until there was barely an inch between the two, one scarred hand reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face while the other twined around your hand, slowly taking the dagger from you. You didn’t react but he swore he heard your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly, just enough for him to notice. He liked this game between them.

“What are you doing back here?” You finally got out, slight hesitation in your pretty eyes. You felt his shadows brush against the skin of your legs that peeked through the high slits in your red dress. “I wanted to see you again. You left before I’d woken up, I never got your name.” He responded. Azriel had to give it to you - not many people could out-stealth him, he liked that.

-

[Y/N’s POV]

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing at the moment but she was aware she couldn’t stop now. Y/N had recognised the shadowed male immediately, purposely pursuing him that night just to spite the Night Court and even her brother. He would know what she did somehow, word always got out, whether you wished for it or not.

If she was being honest, some small part of her had wanted to see him again, something about the way his wings swayed in the wind, the way his shadows swirled around his large form, whispering secrets in his ear that seemed like they were long forgotten, re-stirring decade-old dust, it was unnerving. Whatever it was, it intrigued her like he was a mystery she just couldn’t seem to solve.

Y/N hesitated for a few too long seconds, wary. Azriel was a known spy, if word somehow found its way into Kier’s ear she was as good as dead, she’d make a pretty corpse, she supposed. “Y/N.” She finally got out, her words coming out shaking, betraying her cool demeanour. “My name is Y/N.” The female waited for him to say something, holding eye contact with him. Y/N couldn’t help but feel as though she had just sealed her fate.

“I like that name. It suits you.” He responded, his voice slightly gravelly that which making her heart flutter more than she’d like to admit. Y/N didn’t know what to say so she gave a small nod in an answer of sorts. Y/N was aware of the attraction she felt towards the Shadowsinger, and that scared her - he scares her, whether she admitted that fact or not. She’d heard the rumours that surrounded him like his shadows, One would be surprised how much One heard, even deep inside a mountain. She’d heard the stories, what he had done, the blood he had shed and the screams he had pulled from his victims like a musician pulling notes from a violin or a piano forte. And yet somehow she couldn’t bring herself to run away - no, it only made her feel ever more daring.

“Then I suppose you know who I am, Shadowsinger?” Y/N questioned with a raised brow, once again, wary. As she continued to watch the imposing male with a careful eye, with the small distance between the two she could scent him, he smelled of mist and cedar wood… and what was that? She couldn’t quite place her finger on it but it was strangely familiar, something she hadn’t smelled in years, no, decades, or longer. Of a home long since forgotten, a fire long since smothered. It made her feel conflicting emotions, like she was reminded of a spark that had once burned bright in her heart long before it was dimmed by the cold, lifeless air of the mountain, stripping away everything that made her… her until she was just skin and bones.

She shook her head, dismissing those thoughts that hurt her heart, with the motion, Y/N nearly missed Azriel’s words in passing, taking a few moments to really registering what he’d said. “I have been notified.” He said, “And I am not surprised, I knew there was something about you, that you weren’t some random pretty faced stranger. But the true question is, what would your brother think about what you’ve been doing for the past three centuries?” He finished, lips twitching slightly into a smirk that made him seem more cruel than anything.

“First of all, let’s be clear about something; Tamlin is not my brother and hasn’t been for a very long time.” She said coldly, waiting not a moment to respond, her eyes narrowing. Her facial expression shifted from one that was pained and slightly indifferent to one of anger and long-held judgment. “What a shame.” He merely said, amusement flickering in his dead-looking eyes.

She begged to differ.

-𝓕𝓲𝓷.

[Authors Note: Hope you enjoyed! Lots of love xxx -Aria. Also sorry for the absolute decade it took to complete this T-T

[Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Taglist for this series or all my stories!

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*Also if you get tagged again after this fic has already came out it means I’m just editing it, thanks! (;

[arialovesyou]

youre the most sexilicious person ever, id lock you in my basement and steal you away so no one ever gets to experience your affection, attention and love ever again if i could. please stop making more friends and being so awesome,funny,hot and amazing please dont go bald or explode ever again xoxo - smexy funnass rat 𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷𝓼 ( ´ཀ` )

AHAHAHAHAHAHA WHATTTT??? 😭😭 THANK YOU????

[arialovesyou]

AWWWWWWWWW, This was so precious, I can’t even— 🥺🥺🥺 literally meltinggg ❤️❤️

I'm going to ignore the Eriel bits (👀) but this was so, so, soooo good. 10/10 🤭

The Favorite Uncle

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

Summary: Traditions are made to be respected, even when things change. And so, Cassian and his brothers bring their kids along to their snowball fight. But now, the fight is not the only thing Azriel wins.

Warnings: not really a warning, but there's very brief mentions of Feysand and Elriel

Word count: 1.9k

Main masterlist | Week masterlist | Cassian masterlist | AO3

@cassianappreciationweek

“Dad, watch out!”

The warning rang out across the slope, echoing through the white Illyrian mountains. But it was too late.

Before Cassian could move out of the way, a large snowball collided with his left temple. He groaned as the force of the impact snapped his head to the side.

He blinked a few times to clear his vision as more flying missiles were launched all around him. When the dizziness faded, he caught a glimpse of Azriel.

His brother was watching him with a smug grin, another snowball clutched in his gloved hand. Since his daughter was too young to join the fight, Cassian’s eldest had paired up with him to make balanced teams of two. And Soren was currently smirking beside his uncle.

Little traitor.

They both raised their arms to strike again, and Cassian quickly grabbed a snowball from his own pile to hurl back at them.

But someone beat them all to it.

Cassian turned to his daughter just as a white bullet soared across the clearing between the three small forts. It struck her older brother square in the chest—right as Rhys’ laugh rang out when he hit Azriel at the same time.

Ducking behind their wall of snow, Cassian smiled at Astrid. “That's my girl,” he said approvingly, puffs of air forming in front of him with each word. “Perfect throw.”

She giggled, her small wings fluttering behind her. “Thanks, Dad. But if you don't start paying more attention, we're going to lose to Uncle Az. Again.”

Cassian's chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “You might be more competitive than he is. You know that?”

Astrid shrugged, scooped up another snowball, then turned to him with a mischievous grin—one Cassian immediately mirrored.

“On three. Okay, sweetie?”

Beyond their snowy barricade, shouts and laughter rang out as the other four players didn’t relent in their attacks on each other.

Astrid nodded, dark hair peeking out from beneath her wool hat, hazel eyes gleaming with anticipation. Cassian crouched beside her, packing a snowball in each hand. He counted down, low and fast.

“One…”

Astrid leaned forward, ready.

“Two…”

A snowball slammed into their wall, dislodging a chunk and dusting Astrid’s hood with powder. She let out a small squeal but held her ground.

“Three!”

They popped up in unison and unleashed their volley.

Cassian’s snowball hit Azriel in the chest, knocking the Shadowsinger back a step. Astrid’s found Soren’s shoulder, and her brother let out a dramatic yelp before flopping into the snow as if mortally wounded, wings splayed beneath him.

Cassian raised his fists in triumph. “Down goes the traitor!”

Astrid cheered, pumping her small fist in the air. “We got them!”

From across the clearing, Rhysand laughed—loud, carefree—as he crouched behind his own snow fort, shielding himself from the chaos.

“Don’t get too cocky, brother,” his voice rang out. “You know what happens when you celebrate early.”

Cassian scoffed. “Says the one hiding behind his son.”

Nyx popped up from behind the snow wall, wings hidden just like his father’s, and launched a snowball high into the air. It arced straight toward Astrid.

She yelped and ducked just in time, and it splattered harmlessly on the frozen ground.

Cassian winked at her. “Close one.”

“Too close,” she muttered, already grabbing another snowball.

At the far end of the field, Azriel straightened slowly, brushing snow from his chest. His shadows coiled around his shoulders like lazy smoke, and even in a snowball fight, the spymaster somehow looked menacing. Like he was ready for war rather than a game.

But before anyone could throw another snowball, a small winged figure appeared, trudging through the snow. Deep footprints marked his path up the hill, toward the cabin.

They all stopped as Taran approached. Cassian smiled. “You're joining us?”

The child shook his head. “No,” he grumbled. “It's freezing. I don't like it.”

Astrid snorted. “You're not really my twin.”

Her arm moved. The snowball shot toward her brother but passed cleanly between his head and the tip of his wing. Taran didn't even flinch. When she frowned, he smirked.

Cassian wasn't sure if he was more impressed by his daughter's aim or by his son's ability to tell she hadn't meant to hit.

Soren, clearly unaware it had been a deliberate miss, chuckled. “Ah! You missed!”

Nyx joined him, but Rhys met Cassian’s eyes. “I guess they really are twins.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But I still can't believe I'm raising a son who refuses to join a snowball fight.” He threw his hands in the air. “My son! Blood of my blood! How can you betray me like this?”

Taran shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his heavy coat. His cheeks were already red despite all the layers.

“I like to keep Mom company,” he said with a shrug. “You leave her alone for hours.”

Cassian gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“We're not leaving Mom alone,” Soren protested. “She's with Auntie Mor and Auntie Feyre and everyone else.”

“Right,” Rhys said, straightening and glancing at the cabin. “We're having boys bonding time out here. The girls have theirs inside.”

“Hey!” Astrid protested. She crossed her arms and pouted. “I'm here too!”

Rhys smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, sweetie. How about we’re having father-children bonding time?”

The little girl nodded, satisfied, but Azriel tilted his head. “My child is inside,” he pointed out.

“Oh, you shut up.”

The Shadowsinger smirked, and Cassian did the same before turning back to Taran. “If you're not here to join us, why did you come outside alone, buddy?”

“Too much noise.” He nudged the snow with the tip of his boot, clearly not pleased to be out in the cold. “Ellys has been crying non-stop.”

Azriel went rigid, every trace of amusement gone in a blink. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Taran mumbled. “But no one could calm her.”

The spymaster was moving before his nephew had finished talking, long strides carrying him easily through the shin-high snow.

Cassian called out, “You know the rules, Az! No breaks!”

Azriel didn’t even turn. “Soren and I were winning anyway. You just don’t want to admit defeat.”

Soren chuckled and ran after his uncle. The other three children, sensing the snowball fight was over, started to follow. Azriel was already at the door.

“Next year,” Nyx muttered, “I'm playing with Uncle Az.”

“No,” Astrid countered. “I want to play with Uncle Az next year.”

“I’m older, so I—”

“It doesn’t matter how old you are!”

They kept bickering all the way back. Taran only rolled his eyes.

Rhysand came up beside Cassian as they too made their way back to the cabin. “Well, brother,” Rhys said, clasping his shoulder. “I believe Az didn’t just win the snowball fight.”

Cassian glanced at him. “Oh yeah? What else did he win?”

“The title of everyone’s favorite uncle.”

He grimaced. But then said, “There’s still Ellys. And Selene too.”

“Sure.” They had reached the door now. Rhys turned to face him, flashing a grin. “Until they grow up enough to join the game.” Then he disappeared inside with a cheerful, “Where’s my little princess?”

Cassian scoffed, shook the snow off his boots, and followed him—just in time to see Selene wiggle out of Feyre’s arms and jump off the couch to run to Rhys on still unstable legs.

“Dada!”

The warmth coming from the fireplace chased away the cold as Cassian scanned the room. Azriel was cradling Ellys, the child whimpering softly in his arms. Shadows swirled around her as if trying to comfort her, while both him and Elain murmured soothing words. Mor, Nesta, and Amren were sitting on a couch, talking and sipping wine.

Then his eyes found you.

You and Feyre were seated on the other couch, watching the kids take off their gloves, coats, scarves, and hats. They looked somewhat smaller without them.

Cassian discarded his own coat and boots before striding over to the couch. He plopped down beside you with a sigh. He didn’t say much, just laid his head on your shoulder with a flat, “Hi, sweetheart.”

Amusement swirled in your gaze as you looked at him. “Lost again?”

“Worse,” he mumbled.

The kids settled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, discussing which of the many board games they should play. Cassian glared at Azriel, but his brother was still focused on calming his daughter.

“They all prefer Az because he wins every year,” he admitted.

“Oh?”

Cassian almost pouted. “I was supposed to be the fun, cool uncle. Not him.”

You and Feyre exchanged an amused look. “You sure you don’t have four children, Y/N?” she quipped.

You chuckled, but Cassian flipped her off. And hid his hand a moment later. Fortunately, none of the kids noticed the gesture, too caught up in the game they had just agreed on.

Feyre’s laugh filled the room as she stood to go check on Rhys, still holding his two-year-old daughter, her tiny wings fluttering at her back.

Cassian let out an exasperated sigh. “Nobody loves me.”

“Oh, my poor baby.” You stroked his hair, just like you did when your children cried and needed their mother's comfort. “But you know I love you, right?”

His lips curved into a grin. “I know.” He kissed your cheek. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You arched a brow. “Were you just pretending to hear me say it?”

A mischievous grin. You rolled your eyes.

“What can I say?” He nuzzled into your neck. “I love it when you treat me like this.”

Your fingers weaved through his hair. “When I treat you like my poor baby?”

He hummed.

“My poor, little, closer-to-six-than-five-hundred, army general baby?”

“Mmhm. Exactly.”

Cassian stayed there, head on your shoulder, your fingers idly brushing through his hair as the warmth of the fire melted the lingering cold from his bones.

The chatter of the children around the board game filled the cabin. Astrid was trying to convince Nyx that she had won more snowball points, while Soren kept changing the rules mid-play. Taran seemed to be the only one to notice. Nesta watched them, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she sipped from her glass.

Cassian observed it all with narrowed eyes, his mind elsewhere. When he released a slow, calculated breath, you frowned.

“What are you thinking?”

“Revenge,” he said without hesitation.

“Of course.” You bit back a smile. “On Az?”

He turned his head to look up at you. “Yes. I have to come up with a better strategy if I want to win next year.”

“You have a whole year to think about it.”

“It's never too early to start. I'm winning the fight and the best uncle title.”

He looked over at Azriel, now seated in the armchair, holding a sleeping Ellys in his arms. His shadows danced quietly around her tiny wings. Elain was perched on the armrest, gently brushing a lock of hair from her daughter's face.

“Honey,” you said softly, a hand on his arm, “the kids all love you, even if you don't win.”

“They'll love me more if I do.”

But as the fire crackled, snow began falling quietly outside, and the cabin filled with laughter and bickering and the occasional shriek of “You’re cheating!”, Cassian leaned back into the cushions with the most peaceful look you'd ever seen on him.

Maybe the title of favorite uncle didn't matter that much when he got to see his family like this—all together, carefree, happy. Children having fun, adults chatting idly.

But he'd still try to steal it from Az. He couldn't let his brother win everything, right?

*divider by @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @arialovesyou @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[arialovesyou]

Smooch incoming for you

Us fr fr 🙏🤭🫦

[arialovesyou]

Glad to know you're doing great!! I'm good too :)) and you're always welcome to stalk my acc cookie!🩷 does that mean I can change your blog name and keep you on my taglist?👀 i have new cassian fics coming for the event week🤭

Oh and I don't know if you're aware, but the links on your masterlist don't work. It says post not found on all of them🥲

Awww, that’s excellent to hear!! I hope everyday is like that for you xx

Okay, yay, because I was planning on doing it anyway 🤭 and yes, of course you can! Ahh!! I’m so excited for this fic!! I miss being tagged 😭💔 ugh, I saw they weren’t working, I am soooo annoyed 🙄 I’ll get on that right away - I fixed a few but apparently not all 💔💔 lots of love xx

[arialovesyou]

Hello!! How are youu? You changed your blog name! Tumblr sent me a notif you were but it took me a moment to realize it was you just with a different name hahah

Omg!! Hi, pookie ❤️ yessss, I’ve been inactive for a few months with some family issues (the usual 😪) and I wanted to change up a few things, spring cleaning, if you will 🤭 but I’m great, thank you. I hope you’re incredible!! Excellent to hear from you!!! ❤️❤️

[arialovesyou]

[Arias Acotar recs!!] ꫂ ၴႅၴ

This is where I recommend Acotar fan fiction I adore and want to share with others so these people can get more recognition (: please enjoy and take a thorough look at the warnings, please be careful! I’ll tag each creator and you can check out more of their work!! ♡ ♡ ♡

[𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞: 20th/July/2025~

[FLUFF]:

1. Beautiful Stranger. (Oneshot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @prythianpages

Summary: Azriel gets injured while on a mission and meets someone he never thought he would. aka you finding an injured Az and the mating bond snapping.

2. A Balm for the Heart. (Oneshot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @svearehnn

Summary: When you're sent to the House of Wind to help baby Nyx recover from a cold, you don’t expect to catch the attention of the brooding spymaster himself. Azriel is quiet, careful, and utterly unprepared for how much he likes Madja’s new assistant healer. As your visits continue, so do the lingering glances, clumsy conversations, and quiet moments that grow into something deeper. In the warmth of tea, laughter, and soft shadows, something tender begins to bloom.

3. No time to Explain. (One shot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @ofmistandpages

Summary: Azriel wakes you up with a pressing situation.

4. Undercover Affection. (Oneshot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @surielstea

Summary: While on a mission with Azriel, you must pretend to be a couple. During which it’s revealed that Azriel and you are mated.

5. The favourite Uncle. (Oneshot)

⤷Cassian x Reader | @inkedinshadows

Summary: Traditions are made to be respected, even when things change. And so, Cassian and his brothers bring their kids along to their snowball fight. But now, the fight is not the only thing Azriel wins.

6. And soon they were three. (Oneshot)

⤷Cassian x Reader | @inkedinshadows

Summary: You're waiting for Cassian to come back home and give him news that will change your lives.

- - -

[ANGST]:

1. Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You. (Series)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @angelshadowsinger

Summary: When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences. 

2. Unexpected. (Oneshot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @ofmistandpages

Summary: You’re his mate — and now, unexpectedly, carrying his child. Azriel never wanted this… but some surprises change everything.

3. Only Love Can Hurt Like This. (Oneshot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @kymawrites

Summary: You fell in love. That was a mistake.

- - -

[SMUT]:

1. The Basic Rules of Friendship. (Oneshot)

⤷ Azriel x Reader | @lalacliffthorne

summary: the basic rules of friendship. and how to break them.

2. And I’m Thinking About your Lips (Series)

⤷Cassian x Reader | @illyrianbitch

Summary: You and Cassian have been best friends since you were teenagers-- just friends. But one night at Rita's changes everything and now you cant breathe when you're around him and he can't stop imagining how you'd taste.

Authors Note: This will be updated with time (:

[𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 22nd/July/2025~

—-Tags-—

@shadowsingercassia, @cherry-hotline

[arialovesyou]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG OMG

Ahem. Aelin is such a badasssss 😫🤚 I love that for her. Also those lines with Aelin and Rowan??

“Tell me to stop.” “Don’t stop.” 🫣

Why was I getting emotional with the last lines, also I love Aelin bullying Lorcan, I needed that in my life. This series has been SUCH a rollercoaster, I’m gonna miss squealing when I see you post the next chapter 🥺 can’t wait for the epilogue 🤞

PART TWELVE: DECEMBER

Word count: ~8.5k

Warnings: swearing, violence, references to d3@th, vivid nightmares, ANGST!!!, weapons, and finally some well-deserved fluff hehe

A/N: Oh my goodness, we're almost at the end!! (yes, that almost will matter hehe). This is the biggest project I've taken on with fanfic so far, and it's been a true joy and a delight to share our favorite ruthless crime boss and our favorite fearless investigator with you all! there will be an epilogue hopefully soon, as long as my class/life schedule allows, and then...well. We'll see what happens then ;)

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crouched in the frosty cover of the trees that skirted the edge of her river warehouse’s property, Aelin watched the screen on her forearm with unnerving dispassion, her eyes locked onto every tense coil of Rowan’s achingly familiar body. She’d found him the second he broke through the scrubby underbrush across the lot, her gaze tracking him as he tracked Maeve all the way into the warehouse. 

She watched, oddly detached, as Maeve shot Remelle in the back of the head and both Rowan and Connall emptied their entire clips of ammunition into Maeve in eerie synchrony. 

She watched, oddly detached, as Rowan broke out of his shock enough to drag Maeve’s limp, gunshot-riddled body out of the warehouse and get it onto a waiting tarp. She kept watching as Maeve’s not-quite-so-dead-after-all arm twitched, as a blade glinted coldly in the light pouring out of the warehouse’s open door, as that blade launched itself towards Rowan’s exposed throat in a deadly blur.

She lifted her hollow gaze up across the lot and watched shock wash over Rowan’s face, watched his instincts take over and fire another round into Maeve, watched the blood spill beyond the edges of the tarp, watched his body slowly, jerkily collapse onto the cold pavement. 

She remembered she could move. 

Aelin exploded out of the trees, sprinting across the lot with near-inhuman speed, and skidded to a graceless stop beside the man whose soul was still entwined with hers. Breath sputtered out of his ruined throat, and his beautiful eyes blinked once, twice, three times, recognizing her. “ Don’t ,” she choked out, fingers delicately sifting through his hair. “You can’t leave me, Rowan.” A lump the size of the Great Ocean clogged her throat. “I love you.” 

His breath released in a tormented wheeze, unspoken words churning in his fading eyes. I love you. Fireheart . 

His eyes fluttered shut. 

And Aelin’s eyes tore open in the sudden silence and sprinted around the shadowed corners of her bedroom, their pace matching the thundering skip of her heartbeat. She lifted a shaking hand to her heart, finding her skin clammy with icy sweat, and counted her breaths as her terror slowly began to fade. 

It was only a dream, Galathynius . 

Steady enough to trust her movements, she reached over and flicked on her bedside lamp, illuminating the bedroom in a soft orange glow. The clock beside the lamp read 03:30—a terrible hour to wake from such a vivid nightmare. 

Tentatively, Aelin pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed. She picked up the top throw blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped into her slippers. She flipped on an electric candle, cradled it in her hands, crossed the bedroom, and pushed open the door to the second-floor wraparound porch, a feature her parents had specially designed when they built this house. 

Tucked into the edge of the Oakwald Forest just past the park where she had dreamed as a child, Aelin’s family’s private home had long gone unused, serving more as secondary storage for family heirlooms and extra furniture than anything else. Near the end of the summer, Aelin had quietly asked Aedion to check on the house, so that when she came to it five days ago, it was ready for her. 

Aelin had loved this house as a child, entranced by its placement within the Oakwald. Lush tall pines rose into the sky around the house, almost as if they deliberately enfolded it in their shaggy branches. From the second-floor porch, though, she still had a clear view of the stars, and it was to the stars that she looked as she stood there in the cold December night. 

The Lord of the North glowed down at her, and she traced his stars with her eyes until her racing pulse slowed down to normal. 

It was just a dream , she repeated to herself. He’s alive. He’s safe. She’d confirmed it herself. 

After leaving Rowan—an act that her very soul protested—that night at the ruins of her warehouse, Aelin slipped back into the trees and watched as Rowan stared blankly in shock, shook himself, and climbed into his truck. She watched the tiny red dot on her screen as it wound through Orynth, the tracker she’d hidden on Rowan’s pickup feeding her his location. She watched him drive back to TSF headquarters and stop there. 

Then, she sheathed her knives, walked up the alley to another nondescript car, climbed in, and drove away towards the Oakwald. Her family home had become her refuge, and she wasn’t yet willing to give up this brief snatch of quiet. 

But eventually, she knew the time would come. 

Blinking back to the present moment, Aelin stared up into the stars, tracing the familiar constellations until her pulse slowed to normal and the icy winter breeze curling in from the forest nudged her back into the welcoming warmth of her bed. 

~

Not even three miles away—though he had no idea—Rowan jerked frantically awake, dripping with cold sweat, his mind and heart and eyes blurry with terrified confusion. Hands stumbling in the dark, he finally located his lamp and flicked it on, casting his own bedroom in a pool of soft warm light, a jarring but necessary contrast to the stark floodlights that blazed in his vivid, horrifying dream. 

Maeve fired, and the bullet buried itself in the skull of the woman standing on the mezzanine. Rowan couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t control the speed with which he emptied a full round into Maeve from his position crouched behind a stack of crates. The Queen of the Night jerked forwards and crumpled to the floor, and Rowan moved on autopilot, pure muscle memory driving him across the floor and up the steel steps and over to the limp body of the woman who’d stood up there. 

A hollow click echoed in his mind, and he felt his TSF training take over as he turned over the woman’s body and gently—so, so gently—closed her empty turquoise eyes. 

Still moving on autopilot, he lifted her body into his arms and walked back down the stairs and out of the warehouse. Someone had laid tarps out on the cement, and he knelt down and laid the woman’s body onto the cold blue plastic. Bowed over her figure, he carefully folded her arms over her chest, and as he began to lift his head, a gunshot cracked behind him, and blazing pain erupted in his shoulder. 

The last thing he saw as his consciousness began to fade was the warehouse exploding into blue-white flame—unnatural flame, impossibly hot. 

And the last thing he heard was a reedy feminine whisper in his ear. “You’ll never have her, Whitethorn. Never.”

His eyes sprang open, and he forced himself into consciousness. The light from his lamp and the sudden burst of cold from how he’d shoved his blankets away from his body shocked him into the beginnings of sanity, and he raked his fingers through his hair as he willed his mind to stop playing such sick fucking tricks on him. After a good three minutes, he pushed himself out of bed and went downstairs, haphazardly flipping on lights as he went. 

Rowan opened the sliding door in his living room and stepped out onto his back porch, and he tipped back his head and stared up into the clear night sky. Never asleep, his military instincts dragged his gaze across the trees that bordered his property, the beginnings of the edge of the Oakwald Forest. Nothing ruffled their branches, and he steadily calmed as his gaze wandered across the snow-dusted grass and the shadowed path of his long driveway. Eventually, his eyes drifted back up to the sky, and despite himself, he unconsciously searched out the path of stars that formed the Lord of the North. 

Aelin’s favorite constellation. 

Gods , he wanted to see her. No matter the storm of emotions whirling in his heart and soul, no matter the betrayal that soured the back of his throat, no matter the clinically insane amount of questions he had for her, he wanted to see her. Needed to see her, if only to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating that night at the warehouse. 

Because that was her voice in his ear, her knives against his body. 

And he’d be fucking damned if he didn’t face Aelin Galathynius one more time. Even if that one time was to put her back behind bars. 

~

“Are you seeing this?” Gavriel almost sounded incredulous. Like every other person in the room, his attention was fixed onto the projection screen, where every major news outlet was following a massive protest that was currently occupying the plaza in front of the courthouse. 

“Who isn’t seeing this, sir?” Lorcan returned, dryly. His gaze darted between the wall-sized screen and his phone, and while Rowan couldn’t quite tell from his angle, he was dead certain that Lorcan was texting someone. 

Rowan tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “This has been going on for close to a week, sir.” And the protestors had only grown more vocal. 

Free Galathynius!  

Their refrain echoed down every major news outlet, radio station, and far too much of social media. Ever since Aelin had given that press conference after her trial, bits and pieces of her statements had been circulating the internet. People alternated between admiration of her unflinching willingness to tell the truth and shocked horror at the gruesomeness of her crimes. A little over a week ago, though, an anonymous and frustratingly untraceable source had posted a three-minute video of footage from a prior interview with Aelin. 

And the internet had fucking exploded. 

In that segment, Aelin discussed the method behind her madness. With a half-self-deprecating, half-wry smile tilting her lips, she answered the rapid-fire barrage of questions flung at her with graceful aplomb and her usual undertone of sarcasm. Why did you kill them? Each victim was nothing less than the scum of the earth, rotten criminals who were far better off dead than continuing to plague the world. Why did you keep Celaena’s identity? It suited her purposes—as Aelin Galathynius, she ran the company that kept so many people in respectable jobs, and as Celaena, she roamed the deserted back alleys of Orynth’s underbelly, making sure that no one worse than her remained alive to terrorize innocent people. 

On the screen, she paused for a moment, mulling over one of the questions, then shook her head with a dry little huff. “If you take anything away from this statement, let it be this: I have always acted and will always act to protect Orynth. I suppose I tried to play one too many roles—CEO, criminal, judge, jury, and executioner.” She chuckled. “I only regret that I took the criminal’s path instead of the vigilante’s, since that one seems to be much more acceptable.” Her eyes flicked sideways, and she took a step away from the podium, ending the press conference but raising another clamor of questions. 

Gav closed that video and switched to the next tab, a live news report in downtown Orynth. The reporter on scene stood at the edge of the Old Palace Square, chattering on about the protests that had only grown larger with every passing day. 

A raised voice cut through the chaos, its refrain breaking through the indistinguishable sounds of the reporters and the crowds. “Free Galathynius!” For a moment, stunned silence rippled across the square, but the protestors rapidly picked up the chant, hands and signs raised in defiance. 

“Free Galathynius!”

“Free Galathynius!” 

Free Galathynius!

Rowan clamped his lips together, spun on his worn bootheel, and left the briefing room. So many people were crowded into the space that his exit was unremarkable, and he used the brief snatch of silence to steal up the halls to his small office. He pushed open the door and didn’t bother flipping on the light as he crossed the tight space in two and a half steps and collapsed into his desk chair, scowling at the way the damn thing’s ancient springs jabbed him in the back through the frayed old cushion. 

Almost despite himself, his hand stole towards the inner pocket of his shirt, where a single folded sheet of paper was tucked in beside his heart, shielded behind layers of fabric and Kevlar. He carefully slid the paper out of its pocket, unfolded it, and pressed it down flat onto his dented steel desktop, letting his eyes skim the all-too-familiar lines of elegant script, clinging to the only physical shred of Aelin that he couldn’t let himself burn. 

Before she went to Endovier, she had written him a letter. It had just appeared on his desk the morning of her incarceration, probably left there by Gav, and he had long since memorized the words but stubbornly refused to discard the page. Even after weeks etched into his heart, the words still pricked at the tender edges of the wound he’d too hastily sealed up. 

The woman owned him so completely, even now. 

Rowan’s shoulders slumped as he read Aelin’s words for the millionth time. The tension that had coiled tight in his body seeped slowly out of him the longer he sat in the dim shadows of his tiny office, removed from the noise and the chaos and the visuals of the criminal mastermind who’d stolen his heart and never given it back. 

“I will find you,” he murmured, summoning up every drop of resolve he could visualize. “I will find you, Fireheart, and I can fucking promise you it won’t be the end.” 

“Well, that’s the most confusing love confession I’ve ever heard, but do carry on.” Smooth as silk and lethal as iocane powder, the voice coiled around Rowan’s unsteady heart and tugged his shell-shocked gaze up and across the cold steel of his desk to slam into an amused turquoise smirk. 

His other hand had his spare gun aimed between her eyes before he recognized what he was doing. “Stay where you are.” 

Aelin sighed, kicked the office door shut, and leaned on the bookshelf. “Go ahead, Ro. Fire it.” 

“I—” His finger trembled on the trigger. “No.” Even so, he kept it aimed at her. 

In a dizzying blur, she swatted the gun out of his hand and pinned both of his arms to the desk, a blade he definitely hadn’t seen her draw hovering a hair’s breadth away from his wrist veins. “You should know that I took the liberty of unloading it.” She leaned in close enough for her breath to graze the shell of his ear. “But it’s good to know that you’d still rather see me in prison than anywhere useful.” 

Before he could think of a reply—before he could even begin to process her words—she flicked her knife away, palmed something else off of his desk, and slipped out the door. 

Abruptly regaining control of his body, Rowan burst out of his seat and followed her out into the hall. And stopped short, because there was no goddamn sign of her anywhere. And he’d bet good money that there wouldn’t be any camera evidence either. 

Fucking hell . 

~

Crouched on the rooftop of TSF headquarters, Aelin tapped the pocket over her ribs, feeling the small, slim piece of plastic she’d swiped off of Rowan’s desk tucked securely in there. She’d thought she would feel some kind of relief once she was in and out of the building, but instead, she was just confused. Seeing Rowan—stealing from Rowan—hadn’t been in her plans. 

Not yet. 

Her earpiece crackled. “You out of there yet, Boss?” 

Aelin shook herself. “Quit calling me that, Owens, and give me thirty seconds.” Uncurling from her crouch, she darted across the rooftop, swung herself across to the neighboring building, and dropped down the rungs of a fire escape into an alley. “Go for it.” 

“Good work.” On his end, Nox tapped a few buttons, and the security camera system of TSF headquarters switched seamlessly off of the loop it had been running. “At your location in four, three, two, one…” 

“Surprise,” she said dryly as she pulled open the side door of the electrical utility van Nox was driving and lifted herself inside. “Thanks, Owens.” 

He nodded. “Anytime.” 

Nox drove as far as southwestern Orynth before he pulled into a grocery store parking lot and let Aelin out, and she went over to the nondescript car she’d parked there earlier that day, got in, and drove a circuitous route back out to her house. She let out a long, soft sigh of relief when she turned into the long, winding driveway, not really relaxing until she was in the house with the doors locked and the alarm system activated. 

She tossed the… thing she’d “borrowed” from TSF headquarters onto her nightstand, went back downstairs, and turned on the news. Elide had told her that she and Nehemia would be officially announcing the changes at Gal Inc, including the company’s new name and branding and the purposes for SecondSkin, that evening. 

Elide’s calm, professional presence commanded the cameras’ attention. “In agreement with my leadership team, we have agreed to rebrand this company as Staghorn Development. We will continue to provide the same products we have been developing and offering, and we hope that all current and future customers will continue to be satisfied.” 

The reporter interviewing Elide nodded. “Ms. Lochan, Dr. Ytger, what about the technology that was revealed in October? What is your company planning to do with…that?” 

Elide and Nehemia exchanged a look. “Are you referring to SecondSkin?” Elide asked. 

“Yes.” 

“As was also revealed in October, we plan to release SecondSkin for medical use. In fact, we have arranged for the first batch of the completed product to be delivered to Orynth General Hospital next week,” Elide said. “Dr. Ytger, anything to add?” 

Nehemia leaned into her microphone. “This product cannot be made in large quantities at the moment, but we hope that with more extensive development and clinical use, it will become more readily accessible. SecondSkin will be used for good, never for nefarious purposes.” 

“That’s all. Thank you,” Elide added, covertly gesturing at the off-camera security detail to clear the path for her and Nehemia’s exit. 

Aelin turned off the screen, Nehemia’s clever words echoing in her mind. Used for good, never for nefarious purposes . It was both a veiled reference to the one part of Aelin’s criminal life that hadn’t come up at her trial and a hint at the fear she knew the scientist shared. There was always the possibility that someone would discover SecondSkin and try to use it for evil. 

But if Aelin had anything to say about it, they would only ever try once. 

~

Days after Aelin appeared in his office, Rowan was still reeling from the shock. 

As he’d suspected, there was no trace of her on any angle of the building’s camera footage, and after driving the security team up the wall with his requests, he found himself once again seated in Gav’s office, stewing in confusion, irritation, and a healthy dose of admiration for Aelin’s skill level. Gav was lounging in his chair, typing away at something on his computer, and staunchly ignoring Rowan. 

It had been almost two hours. 

Finally, Gav closed his laptop with a slight click and drilled a flat stare right between Rowan’s eyes. “Why the hell are you in my office again, Whitethorn?” 

Rowan had no control over the blush that crept up his throat. “Aelin was here, sir.” 

Gav blinked, but his flatly disappointed expression didn’t budge. “And…” 

“And I spent too much time bothering the security team with my attempts to examine the footage from that day,” Rowan admitted. “I suspected there wouldn’t be any evidence, and there wasn’t, and when I tried to look for a loop, they…” He coughed. “I suppose I overstepped, sir.” 

“What a surprise,” Gav intoned, his words oozing sarcasm. 

Rowan’s flush spread across his face. “I’m sorry, sir. It seems that I have very little control when it comes to Aelin.” 

“You act like I’m unaware of that, Whitethorn.” Gav crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you forgetting that you dated my niece for months with my full knowledge?” 

“Ah, cut the man a break, Uncle Kitty-Cat.” 

Both Gavriel’s and Rowan’s eyes whipped to the office door, their expressions mirror images of shock. Aelin nudged the door shut with one boot and leaned against the wall, predatory grace lining her alert posture. A half-mask shielded the lower part of her face, and a hood had been pushed back from her head, its dark material blending in with her fitted shirt and pants. Some kind of flexible vest wrapped around her chest, lined with more sheaths than Rowan could immediately catalog. He did a mental estimate of how many blades or other weapons she could possibly have on her person. 

Too fucking many. 

“Rowan isn’t lying to you, Gav.” Aelin shot Rowan a little smirk. “While you all were busy gawping at the news last week, I paid his office a little visit. He happened to be there too.” 

Gav raised an eyebrow. “What kind of visit?” 

Aelin shrugged. “He had something I needed.” Anticipating the next question, she shook her head tightly. “It’s better if you don’t ask.” 

“You—” Rowan broke out, but Gav cut him off. 

“You do understand that by coming here, you’ve turned yourself back in, yes?” Unless Rowan was fucking senile—which he was beginning to think might be true—sadness cloaked Gav’s words. 

A tiny, vicious smirk curled one corner of Aelin’s lips, sending a chill skittering down Rowan’s spine. “I’m aware.” 

“And…” Gav held his niece’s gaze. 

She held out her hands, palms up. “I have a proposition for you, the cops, and the rest of the TSF, and I think both of you might want to hear it.” 

Rowan leveled a stare at his commander, waiting until Gav flicked a glance over at him and gave the slightest dip of his chin. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

“I’d like to offer a deal.” Sensing the tension humming in the air, Aelin pulled a tiny, slender blade out of her sleeve and began dancing it across her gloved knuckles. “None of us will benefit if I go back to rotting my ass off in Endovier, so in exchange for quietly remitting my sentence, I promise to give up the Boss business.” Her analytical gaze tracked the crease that formed between Gav’s brows, and without pausing the motion of her blade, she arched a brow at him. “I know this conflicts with both of your overly formed senses of justice, but believe me, I’m far more useful to everyone when I’m in the city, and you know full well that if you stuck me back in Endovier, I’d get right back out.” 

“I know,” Gav admitted. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Tell me how you’re going to be ‘useful’ to law enforcement, Ae. We’re not involved in any active cases at the moment.” 

She chuckled. “So the team of TSF soldiers currently cleaning out Maeve’s compound and tracking down all of her distributors isn’t you?” 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?” 

“I went by the Bitch Queen’s compound last week and discovered a whole bunch of soldiers crawling all over the place.” She shrugged. “I wanted to be mad, but it’s actually rather convenient—I don’t have to worry about staging some kind of elaborately covered cleanup effort.” 

Gav blinked. “So…you broke out of Endovier in order to finalize that list of yours?” 

“That was part of it.” Aelin tucked the blade away. “I left Endovier for everyone’s good, Gav. Like I said, you know there’s not a place on this earth that could hold me.” A grin tugged at her lips. “Besides, who doesn’t love a reformed criminal? Let the city get a glimpse or two of me, and I’m willing to bet that the protests calm down.” 

“You’re not wrong.” He blew out a long sigh. “But I can’t remit your sentence, Ae.” 

“What about alternatives?” She started ticking them off on her fingers. “Parole, supervision, house arrest, monitoring…” 

“ And we cannot publicly work with a convicted criminal,” Rowan added. 

Aelin turned her unimpressed gaze onto him, and he flushed under the force of it. “Then use your sneaky little brain and think of something, Lieutenant. That time when you broke into my warehouse indicates at least some level of cleverness hiding behind those pretty eyes.” 

A tangle of confusion, admiration, affection, and heat scrambled Rowan’s emotions as he processed the witty mix of insult and compliment Aelin had just delivered. “I…I didn’t…”

Gav chuckled, amused by Rowan’s flustered state. “As much as I might not want to agree with you, Aelin, you’re right—you’re better off and more useful to all of Orynth if you’re not incarcerated. I have a few thoughts on how we could proceed.” 

With a final wink at Rowan, she folded her arms across her chest. “Go ahead.” 

~

Aelin hadn’t expected her heart to be so far up her throat as she walked up the curve of Rowan’s tree-lined driveway, her boots crunching the delicate crust of snow atop the gravel. It had been two weeks since she revealed herself to Gavriel and agreed to put on the pretense of living quietly under house arrest while he thought about her deal. It was a pretense because she was still remaining under the radar, still keeping herself out of the public eye. 

Unable to resist the temptation, though, she’d allowed one of the news outlets to catch a fleeting glimpse of her shadow hurtling across the rooftops down by the river docks. Gav had been less than impressed, but he reluctantly agreed that the potential sight of the public’s favorite criminal had calmed them down a good amount. The volume of protestors had gone down, and their activity had largely shifted to online presence, advocating for her freedom through social media. 

She shook away the glittering promise of another covert appearance and focused on keeping her pace steady as she crossed the last few yards and set foot on Rowan’s covered wraparound porch for the first time in months. The deep brown paneling was comforting without being too gloomy, broken by pockets of golden warmth from the wide front windows. A fresh pine wreath hung on his front door, its scent crisp and almost cheery and all too similar to the man who lived there. 

With a controlled, calming breath, Aelin raised her hand to knock, but before her knuckles made contact, Rowan swung the door open. 

“ Aelin ,” he breathed, warmth battling with wariness behind his eyes. 

She clasped her hands tighter to quell her shaking fingers. “Hi, Rowan.” 

Wordlessly, he stepped aside, allowing her into his home, and a corner of her heart melted at the implicit trust in it. She took off her heavy winter jacket and unwound the scarf from around her neck, sighing a little as her chilled limbs began to warm back up. December in Orynth was beautiful, but frigid, and she had walked up to his house from the main road, nearly half a mile out. 

He’d barely moved, stood still a few paces away, tracing her figure and her face with his too-sharp gaze. “Why are you here?” The question rasped out of him; it would have been accusing, but he couldn’t summon his investigator’s voice. 

Her shoulders tensed, and out of habit, she glanced at the door, balancing the odds of escaping before her heart could break again. She pushed her gaze back to his, wove her fingers together behind her back, and answered, “I want to explain.” 

That tiny kernel of honesty seemed to undo something in Rowan, and his posture loosened as he turned and went into the living room. As he passed her, she felt the barest brush of fingertips against her hand, as if his body couldn’t control itself in her presence. 

Neither could hers. 

Aelin followed Rowan into the living room and settled into one of his surprisingly plush armchairs, tucking her legs beneath her. He sat down facing her, his profile illuminated by the crackling orange glow of the fireplace, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. She shifted her eyes to the low-burning flames, a sudden surge of conflicted emotion clogging her throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dragging her gaze up to his. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.” 

His throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?” 

“You know why,” she murmured, the pain etched into her heart seeping into her words. 

“I would have fought for you, Aelin.” Dark and flickering and always noticing too much, his gaze pinned hers. “If I knew, I would—”  

“You wouldn’t have gone against the laws, Rowan. You couldn’t.” Aelin shoved down the sob that filled her throat. “And I don’t blame you or fault you for that.” She paused, her heart and her mind warring over whether she should give him the next words. “I fell in love with you partly because of how honorable you are, and I knew all along that no amount of loving you would get me out of the handcuffs that my actions dangled in front of me.” A tear escaped her grip and slipped gently down her cheek, at odds with the next thought that came out of her mouth. “Plus, it was too much fun to lead you and your team all over the place.” 

His lips twitched as he fought back a grin. “I didn’t think it was very fun.” 

“Your team did,” she teased, a bit of her humor sparking back to life. 

“Bunch of idiots,” he mumbled, affectionately. Concern slipped back onto his face, and she braced herself for the questions she knew he needed to ask. “I have questions for you, Ae.” 

“Go ahead.” 

He leaned forward. “How long was Ren Allsbrook spying on me?” 

“You mean Captain Westfall?” She couldn’t resist the tiny jab. “At least as long as you were part of the investigation.” 

“When did he start posing as Westfall?” 

Aelin twisted her ring around her forefinger. “A year ago.” She took a breath. “Ren escaped prison in early December of last year and took over as Chaol Westfall a couple of weeks after that. I have no idea where the real Westfall is, but Ren’s history clearly shows that whenever he took on the disguise of another person, that person conveniently disappears to some remote tropical location for a year or two. If Westfall hasn’t turned up in a month or so, you’ll probably want to look for him in the Iron Isles. I hear they have a pretty elaborate pirate festival there every year.” 

Rowan snorted quietly. “So I never knew the actual Chaol Westfall?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

He blew out a huff of breath. “I should be surprised, but I’m not.” He went quiet for a moment, mulling over what to ask next. “Could…can you tell me about Fenrys?” 

Aelin had known the question would come, but she wasn’t prepared for how hard it hit her. “I met him in May,” she said, her mind wandering back to their scuffle in the warehouse lot. “But you knew that, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah.” A half-grin pulled at Rowan’s lips. “I thought I was a step ahead of you there.” 

She cracked a grin. “For a while, you were. I asked Fen to get into Maeve’s compound for me, though, and that was when he started reporting to me first.” 

“Why did you ask him to do that?” 

“A few reasons.” She cleared her throat. “Like I said at my trial, Maeve was always a picky little bitch about the men she let into her compound, and Fenrys was exactly the kind of fresh face she’d want to get her dirty hands on. He wasn’t known as one of my affiliates, she never suspected that he could be a spy. And…” Aelin trailed off, gathering her resolve. “And Connall had already been spying on Maeve for me when I sent Fenrys, so I knew Fen would have Con to vouch for him.” 

Rowan bolted up out of his chair, stunned by the revelation. He dragged his hands down his face, visibly reeling from the shock. “You knew…you knew Con was alive this whole time?” 

Slowly, painfully, Aelin nodded. “When I sent Fen into the Bitch Queen’s compound, Con had already been there for three months. I’d known him for about a month longer.” 

Exhaling in shaken disbelief, Rowan lowered himself back into his chair. “Did you know Con is a Navy SEAL and was declared missing in action years ago?” 

“No.” Aelin met Rowan’s gaze head-on, letting the truth of her words show on her face. “He never told me.” 

Rowan nodded slowly. “Okay. So you sent both him and Fen to Maeve.” 

“Yes. I knew she might ask Fen to turn around and spy on me for her, and she did, and that…” She forced the words out through a choked sob. “And he died.” More tears crept down her cheeks. “I still feel responsible for it, Ro. I wish I could have warned him.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan whispered, the endearment breaking past his defenses. “Maeve really deserved that Bitch Queen title, didn’t she?” 

“A thousand times over.” Aelin flicked stray tears off of her face, ignoring the way Rowan’s fingers twitched as if he wanted to be the one to do that. “Sometimes, I wish I could have killed her myself, but knowing that it was you might be even better.” 

“You saw?” His eyes flared wide. “I… how?”

She turned the ring around her finger, over and over. “It’s a long story, Ro.” 

Rising from his chair, he crossed the few steps over and crouched down in front of her, his big warm hands covering her restless ones. “I have time, love.” 

Hesitantly, she tucked her hand into his, and together, they stood up and went to the couch, settling down at opposite ends. Aelin picked up one of the decorative pillows and hugged it to her chest, sorting out her thoughts. Across from her, Rowan waited, impossibly patient with her even after everything she’d put him through. Another piece of her heart melted for him, warming in the light of his steadiness, his calm. 

“I was going to go after Maeve the second I left Endovier,” she began. “Con had managed to send me a note, telling me that she was crazed enough to go after me if she thought she saw me, and my plan was to show up at her compound and lead her down to the warehouse to put a knife through her fucking throat.” She caught her breath. “But after I left prison, I realized I needed some time to recover, to build myself back up. I wasn’t as capable after weeks of having nothing to do. So, I waited. I stayed at one of my safe locations in the industrial district, and I worked out a plan with a few of my men.” She paused, and Rowan raised a brow, waiting for her to go on. “The woman you saw at the warehouse—the one up on the mezzanine—that was Remy.” 

Rowan’s eyes nearly leapt out of his head. “ What?”

“I used Remelle as a decoy for me.” Aelin fought back a knife-edged smirk. “It worked so well as a cover for leaving Endovier, and Maeve was so hell-bent on just killing Celaena Sardothien that she wouldn’t look closely.” 

“But Remelle was innocent ,” Rowan said, quietly. 

“No.” 

His jaw slacked. “No?”

Aelin shook her head, her lips twisting in remorse. “On the surface, she was. But Ro, I wouldn’t have used her as a decoy if she was totally innocent. I’ve done a lot of terrible things, but I’ve never, ever intentionally hurt or killed an innocent person.” 

Confusion wrinkled his forehead. “So what did she do?” 

“When my tech guy looked into her background, he found a whole bunch of inconsistencies. I asked one of my other men to follow her around for a while, and where did Officer Remelle go every other day? She went right to Maeve’s compound.” As the recognition clicked in Rowan’s stunned eyes, Aelin confirmed it. “Remy darling was spying on the police for Maeve, and when I discovered that, it just felt right to trick Maeve into shooting her little spy.” 

“Holy fuck ,” Rowan breathed. 

“Con was there too,” Aelin continued. “If things went wrong, he’d be there to take Maeve out. It was him who dropped you Maeve’s location, if you were wondering. He knows more about tech stuff than I do—hell, he might know more than my tech guy. I was on the edge of the property, hidden in the tree line, watching it all go down. I wanted to be there to shoot the Bitch Queen, but Rowan, when you walked across the lot, I suddenly didn’t want my revenge as badly as I wanted you to have it.” She smiled despite herself. “Fuck, I love you so much that I’d let you take the kill I’ve been chasing for over a year.” 

The words bled from her heart to his, and when they landed, he reached across the couch to slip the pillow out of her hands and take them in his. “And I love you so much that I’d look the other way when you break out of federal prison.” 

She chuckled. “I was at the warehouse for one other reason, Ro. I had to be there for the explosion.” 

He nodded, thumbs stroking the back of her hands. “I’ve been wondering about the explosive since that night, and if it’s the same one used at the Wilkins lot explosion in January, then I’ve been wondering about it for almost a year. It’s baffling.” 

“It’s a variant of hellfire, and I may have created it on accident,” she admitted. 

“You what?” His jaw, already hanging loose, nearly tumbled off his face. 

Aelin pressed her lips together for a moment. “Since I have my degree in chemical engineering, I occasionally like to run experiments, and Nehemia generously let me tinker around in the labs. I had an idea a while ago to try and isolate the part of hellfire that makes it burn so hot, hopefully to use that as some kind of fuel source for the labs. I got partway through the experiment—I found the compound that keeps hellfire so hot—and when I tried to move the isolated compound, it reacted with something else in the solution I was using and melted a hole in the lab table.” Unconsciously, she moved closer to his side. “I was curious, so I tried combining tiny drops of the isolate with the other solution, and the same thing happened. Separate, the chemicals are harmless, but combined, and possibly with the effect of the oxygen in the air, they burn like hell itself.” 

“How much of this stuff do you have?” 

“It’s gone.” She squeezed his hands in reassurance. “Like I said, creating the explosive was an accident, and I’m not known to write things down when I’m running an experiment that might possibly be slightly illegal.” Rowan chuckled at that, and she continued. “I used the last half of the stuff at the warehouse. When my guys set Remelle up, I went in and planted the two halves of the explosive in a little device like an hourglass. After a set amount of time, the chemicals would combine, and there was enough there to make the whole place explode.” 

“And you knew how much time to give it?” 

“I guessed, but the timer had a remote control that could add or subtract time as needed. So I watched and waited, and I added minutes to the timer when I had to.” She paused, her eyes tracing the ink written up Rowan’s arm. “Everything happened so fast—Maeve shot Remy, you shot Maeve, Con hauled ass out of the warehouse, you came out, and Con gave me the signal. And I ended the timer.” 

“That’s…fuck.” Rowan exhaled harshly. “How was the explosion so contained? I wasn’t close to the warehouse, but given what you’ve said, I would have expected the explosion to go farther out, to burn more than just the warehouse. But it didn’t.” 

“I don’t know,” Aelin said. “It seems almost like this variant was oddly limited by concrete, and everything around the warehouse is concrete, so only the building burned.” She poked his side. “Don’t worry, you buzzard. I’m not going to try recreating it just to find out its limitations.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he returned, deadpan. “I’d hate to have to arrest you again because you blew up some abandoned factory somewhere.” 

She snickered. “Your arrest power only applies if I commit another homicide, love. Has your aging brain forgotten the terms already?” 

“Watch it with the age jokes,” he teased, flames kindling in his look. “I’m only two years older than you.” 

“Those two years made it that much easier to lead you and your cute little investigation around in circles,” she laughed, giving into the pull of his presence and curling her body into his side. “Is it really that difficult to keep up with the younger generation?” 

“It is when you’re in love with the woman you’re supposed to arrest.” 

She tipped her head up, surprise coloring her cheekbones. “Rowan…” 

“Aelin,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around her waist, guiding her into his lap. “I…this can’t possibly be a good idea.” Longing simmered in his gaze, but he kept it at bay with that staunch soldierly control of his. 

Carefully, she reached up and balanced her palm gingerly on the angle of his jaw. “I can wait until it is.” Although her heart wanted to propel her forward, she kept herself back. “I never stopped loving you, Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“I never stopped loving you either, Fireheart,” he rasped. “Never.” 

Slowly, cautiously, he closed the gap between them and touched his lips to hers. His kiss was hesitant, delicate, testing the strength of the love that laid beneath every layer of betrayal and grief and longing that shielded both of their hearts. She sighed into the kiss, melting into his arms, and she swore her heart sang. When she pulled back to catch her breath, a soft smile lit up her face, matching the one he wore, hinting at the hope she still carried for their future. 

His hand traced a lazy, gentle path up her back. “Stay, love.” She tensed, unsure of whether that was a good idea, and he kept up the path of his hand. “Just for dinner, if that’s all you can do.” 

“Okay.” She relaxed, grateful beyond words that he could still read her so well. “That sounds better than whatever I can throw in the microwave.” 

His deep laughter rumbled down into the depths of her heart. “I thought you could cook.” 

“Sometimes.” She grinned. “Other times, I let the man I love cook for me.” 

“You do?” 

She pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Yes.” 

He caught her chin and turned her face back to his and kissed her properly, a slow heated sweep of his tongue sending fire dancing down her spine. She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him close, as if he would vanish like her dreams did if she let go. Not breaking the kiss, he dragged her against him, and they both forgot about dinner the moment his fingertips ducked under the hem of her sweater, meeting the skin of her back in a simple, almost sweet touch charged with too many layered emotions to name. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, his touch skimming too lightly up the path of her spine tattoo. 

Aelin arched into him, her breath shuddering. “Don’t stop.” 

So Rowan didn’t. 

~

“And cheers to Staghorn Development’s newest chemical engineer!” Elide raised her champagne glass to Aelin, grinning. 

Aelin laughed, clinked her glass against Elide’s, and took a sip. “What can I say? I guess it’s time I put my degree to good use, and I’m thankful for a friend who’s willing to hire the most notorious ex-crime boss in Orynth.” She winked. 

“Oh, I don’t know about ‘ most’ notorious,” Rowan teased. “Wasn’t there at least one name on that list who was known for worse reasons than you?” 

“We don’t talk about that, remember?” She nudged him in the ribs, and he chuckled. “Besides, the list is behind us now. It’s over, love.” 

“I know.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist, his hand settling low on her hip. 

Elide wrinkled her nose. “Look, we get that you two are still disgustingly in love, but would it kill either of you not to be all sappy in front of your family?” 

Aelin arched a knowing brow at Lorcan, whose fingertips lingered on the small of Elide’s back. “I think you’re one to talk, Ells.” She smirked. “It’s cute, though.”

A bright crimson flush blazed up Elide’s cheeks. “ Aelin!”

“What?” Aelin tipped her glass at the couple. “It’s not a secret, Ells. I’ve known you were jumping Salvaterre’s massive bones for months.” 

Lorcan spewed a mouthful of his drink everywhere as he erupted with strangled coughing. Elide instantly set down her glass and pressed a cloth napkin to his face and rapped on his back a few times until his wheezing subsided. “The fuck, Galathynius?” he croaked, just as flushed as Elide was. 

Rowan was howling, only keeping himself upright by the arm he had around Aelin. 

Lorcan scowled at him, but there was a spark of laughter somewhere in his glare. “Asshat,” he grumbled. 

Elide rose up onto her tiptoes and pecked a kiss onto his lips. “It’s okay, babe. You can still kick his ass the next time you’re at the gym.” 

“Damn straight,” Lorcan muttered. “Fuck you too, Whitethorn.” 

Aelin was still beaming. “You two are too cute.” 

“I could have you fired for that,” Elide drawled, deadpan. 

“You could, but then who would tell you all the lab gossip? Just the other day, I opened the cleaning closet to wipe down my station and found two of the new assistants in a very interesting embrace,” Aelin said. “I’ve got half a mind to start some kind of social media page that just posts every new couple who thinks they’re being secretive down in the Staghorn labs.” 

“Now that’s an idea,” Aedion chimed in. “It’d keep you busy during all this new free time you have now that you’re not sneaking around Orynth at night.” 

Aelin flipped him off. “Who says I’m not?” 

Aedion raised a brow. “Oh, I don’t know. The police? The Special Forces? Every judge, lawyer, and law enforcement official in the city?” 

“You’re no fun anymore, Aedy.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “And there’s nothing wrong with going for a little midnight rooftop walk every once in a while.” 

“ Aelin ,” Rowan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I still have to report to Gav, right?” 

“I’m just joking,” she chuckled. Mostly , she added to herself. 

“I swear my life shortens every time you say something like that,” Rowan grumbled, playfully. 

“Welcome to the club, brother.” Aedion slung his arm around Rowan’s shoulders. “This has been happening since Aelin and I were kids.” 

Aelin elbowed her cousin in the side. “Just because you didn’t want to do anything except play with your My First Science Experiment kit doesn’t mean you didn’t climb a few trees with me.” 

“More than just trees,” he huffed. 

She grinned. “What’s a childhood without at least one attempt to climb onto the roof of your parents’ house?” 

“I feel like I shouldn’t be hearing this conversation,” Rowan said dryly, pretending to press his hands over his ears. 

“Why not?” Aelin winked at him. 

“Because now I want to tell my commander and the press all about your criminal childhood.” 

“Rude!” She gasped. “We never did anything actually criminal.” She paused for a moment. “Well, until that fucker Arobynn kidnapped me, but you’ve all heard that part of my story.” 

Rowan’s hand flexed against her waist. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill the bastard myself.” 

“How adorable,” Elide crooned, giggling. “Aren’t they too cute, babe?” 

“I’m not answering that,” Lorcan grumbled. 

Aelin shot the broody man a smirk. “Too embarrassed to admit that your soldier buddy is just as cute as you and your girlfriend?” 

“Fuckin’ gods ,” Lorcan groaned. “Fine. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—Whitethorn in love is stupidly fucking adorable. Also, he’s not my buddy .” 

“Fuck you too,” Rowan muttered. 

“Been there, done that,” Elide whispered to Aelin, who buried her spluttering laugh in her sleeve. 

“You’re an evil woman,” she wheezed once she had control of her breath. 

Elide just arched a brow. “You know, I think that’s a compliment coming from you, so I’ll take it as one and let you keep your job.” 

“How generous,” Aelin deadpanned. “I might be forced to turn back to the streets if you kicked me out of the lab, and we can’t have that.” 

“Right,” Elide mused. “Remind me again, what were the conditions that you agreed to? You were pretty vague when we were talking about it a while ago.” 

“I couldn’t risk sharing too much in public,” Aelin said. She took a sip of her drink. “Basically, the TSF has generously agreed to ‘monitor’ me rather than slap me back in Endovier, knowing that I would just leave the place again. My sentence has been suspended on the condition that I never commit another homicide; if I do, the sentence will go back into effect and I’ll have to return to prison.” 

“So that’s why you agreed to move into Rowan’s house,” Elide said. “I guess it’s easier to keep an eye on you when you’re in direct sight.” She snickered at Aelin’s disgruntled scoff. 

“There’s a few… other benefits to our arrangement,” Aelin added sweetly, winking slowly and wickedly at Rowan. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he coughed harshly, his face a peculiar shade of red. 

“ Aelin ,” he managed to croak, mortified. 

She laughed and handed him a glass of water. “I’m sorry, buzzard.” 

He drank the water and chuckled dryly. “I really should have expected it.” 

“You should have.” She tucked herself against his side and beamed up at him. 

“Lovebirds!” Elide interrupted, clapping her hands sharply. “We have fifteen seconds until the new year hits!” 

“Pucker up, honey,” Aelin murmured, winking at Rowan. 

Aedion groaned and covered his eyes. “I’m gonna go hide.” 

Aelin laughed, and as the clock hit midnight, she rolled up onto her tiptoes and met Rowan’s kiss, sighing quietly as her lips parted for him. “Happy New Year, love,” she whispered when they parted. 

A quiet, bright smile lit up his face. “Happy New Year, love.” 

“Cheers to this next one.” She linked her fingers with his, and they exchanged a private little razor-sharp grin, knowing full well what the coming year had in store for them. “So tell me, love. When do we leave?”

~~~

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[arialovesyou]

Oh my goshhhhh 😫🤚

Safe In His Arms

A/N: my first imagine, woo! i’ve known for awhile Cassian would be the first because he just gives me those mushy feels i need in x reader fics. this one is an emotional ride but i hope you love it nonetheless!

summary: You and Cassian found yourselves in a rare argument. Despite being mates, there were certain touchy subjects where you both held differing views. Cassian usually kept his composure around you, mindful of not scaring his beloved mate. But on this occasion, emotions ran high and Cassian's usual restraint slipped away. After going to the River House to allow you both space, Cassian returns to find you amid a panic attack. Determined to comfort you, he pulls out all the stops to show you just how cherished and secure you are in his arms.

pairing: Cassian x fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

banner credit to @cafekitsune

all ACOTAR credits belong to SJM

warnings: anxiety, ptsd, mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of parental abuse, very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, negative self-talk, swearing, brief mention of self-inflicted injuries (but not like that)

As the sun dipped behind the mountains in Velaris, it painted the House of Wind with hues of pink, purple, and blue. You were nestled into an armchair beside the crackling hearth, your legs and the skirt of your dress tucked under you, engrossed in one of the house's romance novels. The only other sound in the room was your ragged breaths and occasional sniffles. Although the spring air had begun to weave through the Night Court, the warmth of the fire provided a sense of comfort that no amount of blankets could replicate. Maybe it was the reminder of campfires in Illyria where you grew up. Or perhaps a certain Illyrian whose body heat was akin to the flames in the hearth.

You missed that body. Broad, muscular shoulders that were covered in his hard-earned Illyrian tattoos. Long black hair you could never resist running your fingers through. And his eyes, cauldron boil you, his eyes masterfully flecked with green and gold. It's as if the Mother herself took a paintbrush and carefully selected the perfect place for each color. You wished you could replace this chair with him and plant yourself in his loving arms. The only place you felt safe.

Snap out of it, you thought to yourself. You and Cassian argued this morning. You were supposed to be mad at him. He had gone to the River House in an attempt to give you both space to process what had been said, leaving the House of Wind to you. As if you could go anywhere else. You were an Illyrian with clipped wings. You couldn't fly and you couldn't winnow. You surely weren’t taking the ten thousand steps down the mountain.

It had been at least five hours since Cassian left, and for the mere fact he knows you can't leave without him, you hope he’ll come home soon. He knows how anxious you get when you feel trapped. Your anxiety was a contributing factor to why you and Cassian argued in the first place. It was also what sent you into a state of panic.

You two had been talking about future theoretical children when the concept of joining the Illyrian camps came up. You would never allow your children to experience the abuse you did growing up. Being close friends with the High Lord of the Night Court and living in Velaris, you couldn't fathom subjecting your children to the same horrors you endured when you were fortunate enough not to have to.

But, Cassian views it differently. The Illyrian mountains shaped him into the male he is today. He embraces his heritage, barring some of the less desirable aspects, and he would be honored to witness his children follow his legacy. Unlike you, Cassian was able to turn his past into something that motivated him. He always had something to prove. He always had a battle to win. You suppose you shouldn't expect anything different from the General. The Illyrians saw him as a bastard brute, and he would die before he accepted defeat in changing their minds. One day, he would show everyone he was more than a bastard, and Illyria was more than the culture of misogyny and violence it harbored.

Your past quite literally weighed you down in the form of wings dragging behind you. While the bat boys were raised in Windhaven, you grew up in Ironcrest. It had been as terrible as the gossip the mothers told around the fires in Windhaven. They felt lucky to have their lives as opposed to those in Ironcrest.

Your mother died when you were a child. You hadn't been home at the time, busy with your chores around the camp. When you came home, your father was sitting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees and a glass of alcohol in one hand. He was drunk. Not that it was anything new. What was new were the scratch marks down his face and a bloody, still-healing stab wound in his right wing. You still don't believe the story he told that day. ‘Your mother lost it,’ he said. Your kind, gentle, nurturing mother who would never hurt anyone. Unless it was life or death, she had taught you that much. How to use your surroundings and the resources near you to defend yourself. Your mother knew it would happen one day. Your father had never laid a hand on you until she died, but you’d always known he had a temper and he frequently took it out on your mother. She would tell you to stay away and lock yourself in your room, and she would keep all of his attention on her until he left for the bar. But then she died, and suddenly, your nightmares became your reality. He didn’t even wait a week before he clipped your wings - after he had knocked you unconscious with his fists.

Your father had never been punished. In fact, he had been praised by his fellow warriors. You knew, if something happened to your children, no one would help them. You doubted you or Cassian could be there in time, every time. Something terrible would happen one day.

The whole conversation had stressed you out, sending you into a spiral of thoughts of doom, doom, doom. They were absurd, of course. Creating all these fake scenarios in your head as justification for your opinions about non-existent children. But Cassian had well and truly riled you up. He couldn’t help himself when his pride was hurt, he felt backed into a corner, and he couldn’t stop the harsh words from tumbling out of his mouth. You attacked his pride, so he hit you where it hurt right back.

You never told him everything about what happened to you, not just the kind of life you were escaping, but how you got away and why you were so hurt when you arrived in Windhaven. You told them that you were running from your father, he had clipped your wings and intended to sell you to a vile male. Not far from the truth considering marrying you off was definitely on his agenda at some point. But you explained away your injuries by claiming as a defenseless female running through camps alone, you got into some trouble along the way. Rhysand and Cassian believed you. Azriel being the Spymaster remained skeptical. Not of your intentions, but your injuries did not add up to a couple of scuffles. He let it go, though. He understood not being ready to share the full, brutal truth.

But because of Cassian’s ignorance of the situation, he never understood why you were so jumpy, scared of the dark, and constantly afraid of things you couldn’t explain. Why you had such crippling anxiety that caused you to leave parties early. Why you rarely joined the Inner Circle at Rita’s. Why you have panic attacks over the smallest things. Your biggest insecurity was how different you were from him. He was the big, brave, Lord of Bloodshed. He killed people regularly for cauldron's sake. And you, the damsel in distress who can’t even walk alone down the stairs at night. You were powerless, defenseless, and flightless. The complete opposite of him. You were supposed to be his equal, according to the Mother, but you couldn’t help but worry about whether she got it wrong. Whether she shackled him to the wrong female, for eternity.

Him calling you dramatic was an arrow to your heart. It hurt. He hadn’t meant for you to take it to heart like that, he was referring to the current situation. But you couldn’t help yourself in thinking it was a secret he’d kept, just waiting for him to lose a little restraint before it slipped through his lips. Here it is, you thought. The moment you’ve feared since you and Cassian began courting. He would realize how pathetic you were compared to him. How you were more like a skittish child than the equal to a warrior.

When he left, you spiraled further and further down until you couldn’t breathe.

He’s going to leave you.

He’s not coming back.

He will find a female more worthy of him and bed her.

You didn’t want to believe the lies your anxiety told you, but without Cassian there to ground you, you were bound to crash. The panic attack was sudden; like a thunderstorm in the summertime. You thrashed and wailed, clawing at your neck just so desperate for air. Unsurprisingly, that was all entirely unhelpful and you eventually tired out on the floor by the fire. When you woke from your brief nap, you crawled to the armchair and asked the House for a book. You were utterly numb, but at least you could read about other people’s feelings.

Just as you neared the end of the chapter you heard the front door open and heavy boots step through the foyer. Finally. Keeping your eyes open was becoming difficult, the soft crackle of the fire lulling you to sleep. It was important to you both that you always talked things out eventually, specifically before you went to sleep at night. ‘Never go to bed angry,’ had been your promise to each other. As he approached the library, you gathered ‘eventually’ was right now.

Cassian slowly pushed the door open, the House purposefully causing the door to creak as he did so. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at that. Once he was through the threshold, he could see you facing the fire, turned away from him slightly. His hair was tied into a bun and his wings were tucked in tightly behind him. He took slow, careful steps as he approached. In his mind, you may as well be an injured animal. He knew he fucked up and he would deserve every snarl and lash of claws you gave him. His fierce, resilient, compassionate mate. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted to be. Before he left the River House, he needed his brothers to give him the confidence to face you. Your sharp tongue could slice him into a thousand pieces if you will it. And he prayed to the cauldron you wouldn't, but if that's what you needed from him, he would stand there and take it.

But as he grew closer to you and took in the dried tear stains down your cheek, red puffy eyes, and your mess of hair falling out of its braid- he realized you were not on the attack as he had expected. You just stared at the closed book in your lap, tapping the cover rhythmically with the nails of your thumbs, jaw clenched shut. Fuck, you were anxious. Probably had been for hours now. He knew he shouldn’t have left you but he couldn’t let himself, or you, continue down the path of spitting insults at each other. Plenty of lovers in his past had preferred those methods during arguments, but the two of you had never been like that and he didn’t plan to start today.

Cassian knelt in front of you and a pained expression took over his face as he noticed the raised marks down your neck. With his large, shaking hands, he removed the book from your lap and placed it on the side table. “Sweetheart,” he whispered as he enclosed your hands in his.

You had tried to prepare yourself for this. You wanted to be brave, talk this through like mature adults, but now that he was here his words rang through your ears like temple bells.

‘You’re being dramatic.’ You knew he meant how seriously you were taking the theoretical future lives of your children and not you, but in the moment it had felt more like a dig. You were dramatic. You had your anxiety to thank for that. Hypothetical, hypothetical, hypothetical. Your mind was consumed with hypotheticals every day and he had given you the signal to run with it. Until it went too far and you practically had steam coming out of your ears while Cassian paced back and forth muttering curses to the cauldron. That’s when he decided to leave for a few hours, which quickly became six after asking Rhys for relationship advice turned into him, Rhys and Azriel finishing a bottle of wine together.

You released a shaking breath as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes immediately welled with tears at the hurt across his face. Hurt for you. Hurt for him. You both said things you shouldn’t have.

Cassian didn’t hesitate to lift you before sitting down in the chair and settling you across his lap at the sight of your tears. He knew he had a temper and the Mother knew he tried so hard to keep it under control for you. When you first met, he was acting as General accompanied by the High Lord and Shadowsinger. They had come into the healer's tent to interrogate you about where you came from and you had been utterly terrified. Too terrified to even speak. Rhysand had let it go long enough for you to be treated and calmed down. You looked harmless enough and had been severely injured. He doubted you were looking to pick a fight in that state.

When they returned, you had been healed, cleaned, and fed. Looking less like the almost-corpse a couple of warriors dragged in a few hours prior and more like the beautiful female he held today. The bond snapped for you both a couple of months later, but Cassian courted you like a proper gentleman. He understood that mating bond or not, he had to earn your trust and your love. You had been hurt before and you weren’t going to so easily allow yourself to be vulnerable again.

The mating ceremony happened a year ago but you both had so much love for each other it felt like it had been hundreds. Cassian was going to make sure you knew that hadn’t changed, remind you that he loved you more than the stars loved the night. “Sweetheart I’m so sorry. What I said, i-it was terrible. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like I thought you, overall, were dramatic. It was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

You burrowed your head into the crook of his shoulder and tightened your arms around his neck, shielding your face from his assessing stare. He was doing a damage check. He's not surprised a fight between you would cause a panic attack. Surprising or not, you hated how you reacted when things got tense or stressful. You always wanted to be strong like Cass, or unwavering like Mor. But behind the ferocious mask you could put on when you felt vulnerable and defenseless, you were still a traumatized female. A female who is still afraid any mistake could cause you to be sent back to Ironcrest. Afraid that any angered male might still strike you, despite being proven wrong by the gentle, giant bats of the Inner Circle. You could feel the mask crumpling. It had started falling apart ever since you became aware of his presence. You could never hide yourself from him.

The pads of his fingers brushed the hair out of your face. “Look at me, baby.” His voice was hoarse, his throat constricting at the thought of how upset you must have been, and he had left you alone.

You slowly turned your head away from his shoulder and looked up at him. You took a ragged breath before you spoke. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

He guided your hand up to the collar of his shirt, a spot he knew you liked to hold onto when you were anxious. The fabric in your grip and the faint thumps of his nearby heartbeat grounded you. “What happened here,” he asked, tracing the angry skin on your neck with tender knuckles.

You wiggled to get up, but he only reinforced his hold on you. “I’m fine, Cass please-”

“Shhh.” He gently pushed your head back to his chest and kissed the crown of your head. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. We both know you aren't fine right now. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You shook your head. Despite the heaving of your chest, and your body still sensing something wrong, you repeated; “I’m fine.”

“I can hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum. You know I’m here for you when it comes to these things. I’m your mate, this,”-he motioned to you in his lap- “is what I’m here for.” He started running his fingers through your hair, coaxing you to tilt your face towards him again. “Let me be here for you. Not just physically, but emotionally too. I know there… are things you haven’t told me about where you came from.”

Your whole body stiffened at that. He hates you. He thinks you’re a liar. He’s going to leave you. “Hey, sweetheart, look at me,” his stern, concerned voice swam through the muffling of your thoughts. He gripped your chin and you realized while you were looking at him, you couldn’t see him. It was all so cloudy and distorted. Tears. You’re crying again, damnit. And you weren’t breathing. How long had you not been breathing? You could feel your face heat and the thump, thump, thump of your heart hammereing around in your skull.

“Deep breaths for me, baby. In and out,” Cassian’s voice sounded again. You attempted to gasp for air but all that did was release the wrack of sobs that you had been barely keeping contained. He squeezed your waist and rocked you back and forth. “It’s alright. Let it out. I’m here.” Your hand found his shirt again and you gripped it like your life depended on it. Tears fell onto his shoulders and before your other hand could scratch at your thigh, he took it and started to rub your knuckles with his thumb. He knew it would be bad, but he didn’t expect this bad. Guilt gnawed away at him. Some mate he was, leaving you alone in a time of need. You were having two panic attacks within hours of each other, no doubt draining your little body. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he choked out. “I won’t leave you again, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I will stay here for as long as you need, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Cassian knew, with a heavy heart, that he had discovered the magic words. Your wailing sobs turned to soft, shuddering breaths and he felt you finally hold his hand in return as you came back to reality. “You know I would never leave you right, sweet girl,” he asked with a strained voice.

The silence that followed was deafening. Cassian released a shaking breath of his own. “Alright,” he croaked. Now that you could see his face again, you noticed the silver lining his eyes. You did this to him. You hurt his feelings. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be completely honest with me, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You gave him a small nod, the slight movement sent your head into another throbbing fit.

“Why would you think I’d leave you? Over one argument?”

Your eyes were still glazed over as you stared past him. “Because he’d always leave after. He was never sorry,” you whispered.

Cassian’s hold tightened around you on instinct. “Who?”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth before you spoke. “My dad. He used to hurt me, Cass, that’s- it’s why I’m like this,” you exasperated gesturing to yourself. You turned away from his glare to face the fire, stopping the scold right on his tongue. Fine. He could remind you not to talk about yourself like that later. “He killed my mom, I think. No one but him knows what happened that day, but I knew my mom. And I know him. I don't need Azriel to put the clues together for me. I was so young and scared when it happened I never questioned him to his face. But as I got older, I grew more defiant and he hated it. He’d say I was worse than my mother. But my mother would only let him when she had to protect me. I only had myself to protect, but it was useless. I couldn’t fly and I was so much smaller, so much weaker than him. I just- I just wanted it to end.”

Cassian swallowed thickly. “What do you mean you wanted it to end?”

“It was so stupid,” you huffed. “I thought, maybe if I pushed him far enough he just wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop unt- until I didn’t have to live with him anymore. But my self-preservation kicked in at some point. I hit him with one of the dining chairs, and then I just started throwing everything in my reach at him until he collapsed.” Tears trickled down your face but they were slower, calmer than the ones from earlier. “I didn’t pause to check if he was still alive. I just ran. I ran out the back door and I didn’t stop until I could feel my body shutting down. I would hide. Sleep. Then start running again before dawn. It took me two weeks to get to Windhaven. I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was dead when those males started dragging me through the camp.”

Cassian was crying now. War General be damned, his mate had been through Hell, and she kept it to herself all this time. “Why didn’t you tell me,” he croaked. “We asked you what happened that day and- and you said-“ His jaw snapped shut. He should’ve known. Cauldron, some part of him had known. He may not be the Spymaster but your injuries had been severe. He had so easily believed some cruel, passing Illyrians had done that to you but it all made so much more sense now. Not just what happened to you that day, but the fear that kept you in a chokehold day in and day out. The constant anxiety, looking over your shoulder around every corner, eyes constantly roaming the room for threats.

“I didn’t tell you because, well, originally I just wasn’t ready. Then we found out we were mates and I felt all this pressure to be your equal and I was scared if you found out I wasn’t-“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Cassian’s commanding tone cut through. “You are my equal. Sweetheart, you don’t ever need to step on a battlefield or wield a sword to be my equal. In fact, I’d prefer it if you never did,” he said with a wink. “But you are strong. You are so strong. What you survived with your dad, and crossing Illyria alone, takes strength. Strength that even some of the warriors in my legion don’t have.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes and he took the chance to wipe away your tears with his thumb. “I never thought of it like that,” you whispered.

Cassian shot you a crooked grin. “That’s what I’m here for.” He gave your forehead a tender kiss and you let your eyelids close as you felt the warmth of his lips seep into your skin. “Have you eaten yet?”

The feral growl that erupted from your stomach was answer enough, causing you to blush. Cassian chuckled as he stood with you in his arms, careful of your drooping wings, and walked towards the dining room. “We need to fix that don’t we?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Time got away from me a little bit.”

“It’s alright, sweet girl. We’ll get you fed and then in bed. I’m sure you’re exhausted,” he suggested, earning a nod from you.

As he sat down at the table with you in his lap again, the House immediately provided a spread of small chocolates, fruits, and bread across the table. A second later a pot and two tea cups appeared in front of you and Cassian. “Thank you, House,” you giggled. You still weren’t used to just how sentient the house was. It knew you couldn’t eat a proper meal after the day you had, and instead opted for your favorite, comforting snacks.

Cassian poured tea into the cups and handed yours to you. “My lady,” he grinned. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until the sweetness of the honey started to soothe the scratchiness in your throat from all the crying, and you finished the cup instantly. You blushed even more as Cassian refilled your cup with a smile. “Good thing the house makes the pot bottomless.”

“I still don’t understand how all that works. I don’t have any magic so maybe I’m just stu-“ Cassian plopped a piece of chocolate into your mouth with a glare, hazel eyes blazing with determination.

“Do not,” the cold ferocity in his voice left no room for argument, “finish that sentence.” He clenched his jaw as his eyes bore into yours. He felt your body trembling slightly, cursed the cauldron internally, and cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone. “You can’t talk about yourself like that, baby. You can’t. I love you. You understand? I love you, and it pains me to hear you say those things about yourself. I can’t even imagine what goes on in your head. I know it’s what you’re used to, it was all you had, and your damned father is to blame for it, but it’s not like that anymore. He can’t hurt you here, and I’ll kill the bastard myself if I ever see him, but you’re safe. You’re safe here with me, in our home, in my arms. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, sweetheart. And I will spend the rest of our lifetime replacing every harsh word you say about yourself if that’s what it takes to prove you are worthy of my love and I will never leave you.”

You threw your arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you too, Cass. Thank you. I love you-“ your voice cracked as the raw emotion took over your chest. Cauldron, you loved him. How does he always know what you need to hear? He had learned a thing or two from the Spymaster, no doubt.

“Shhh. I got you,” he said as he tightened the arm around your waist and cradled your head with the other. “I love you so much.” He kissed the side of your head. “I’m so sorry about today. Let’s never fight again, agreed,” he asked with a chuckle.

You smiled as you inhaled his scent of snow, sandalwood, and burning fires. Safe. You were safe here, with your mate. In his arms where you always belonged. “Agreed.”

[arialovesyou]

I don’t usually read Eris fic’s but this was goooood, not disappointed!! 🤭

For the requests: "I would certainly take all night" with Eris, please. I would be forever indebted to you. Can be smut or not, write it however you want! :)

Held in Firelight

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

A/N: Hi! No need to be indebted, don't worry! I just hope you'll like this bc I really liked this idea but I wrote it after six hours of class so it might not be my best work. I also don't know how to label it because it's a bit fluffy with a tiny sprinkle of angst and allusions to smutty bits? Idk idk I really like it tho

Warnings: arranged marriage, cheating (but the parties involved are aware so idk)

Word count: 1k

“I think he has a new lover.”

Your words cut through the comfortable silence that had settled over the sitting room. Eris raised a brow, but you continued to stir the wine in your glass, your eyes fixed on the swirling red liquid.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling embers in the fireplace. Eventually, he asked, “What makes you think that?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “He spent every night out this week. He doesn't do that if he's just sleeping around. He still comes home.”

Eris hummed, as if contemplating your answer.

These were your favorite moments—when Eris didn’t have court duties to attend to and could spend hours talking and drinking with you. It was your favorite way to ease the stress and tension of the life you had been forced into.

“He was out even two nights ago?”

You looked up at him. The firelight flickered on the side of his face, turning his hair into molten copper. You felt a sudden urge to reach across the couch and run your fingers through it.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“It was your birthday,” he stated simply.

“So?”

He looked startled. “You really don’t care that he forgot?”

You sighed, setting your glass down. “Eris, he hasn't remembered my birthday in years.”

He didn’t reply, but his jaw clenched. You couldn’t tell if the flames in his eyes were just a reflection of the fire or if it was that simmering power of his.

With another sigh, you pressed on. “Let’s say he remembers,” you said. “Then what? You really believe he would spend the whole night with me, taking his sweet time to make me feel cherished, at least on my birthday?” You shook your head, the mere thought making you scoff. “No, I prefer it this way. He doesn't care about me, I don't care about him, and there's no point in pretending we do.”

Eris remained silent, his gaze fixed on the fireplace, his fingers clutching the stem of his glass so tightly you thought it might break. You knew he cared about you, that he hated your situation as much as you did, but even he couldn’t change it. Maybe once he became High Lord he’d banish arranged marriages and spare others from this fate, but it was too late for you.

Picking up your glass again, you tucked your legs beneath you and settled back against the pillows. You took a sip of wine, hoping that its rich taste might offer an excuse to change the topic, but you came up empty. You’d already commented on the flavor when he opened the bottle.

“I would certainly take all night.”

His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, but when you turned to look at him, he was still facing away from you.

“What?” you blurted out. Surely, you had heard that wrong.

Finally, his eyes met yours, determined and unflinching. “I would take all night with you,” he repeated, “I would cherish you. And not just on your birthday.”

Your breath hitched. There had been a few lingering touches, a brush of fingers, words whispered after one too many glasses of wine. But never like this—so plain and blatant, so unguarded.

“Don't say that,” you murmured.

“Why not?” His eyes bore into you, pinning you in place. There was no escape—not that you wanted one. “We both want it.”

He was right. There was no arguing with that. Yet you still shook your head. “Eris, we can't.”

He moved closer. You didn’t resist when he took your glass and set it on the small table alongside his. An empty bottle stood next to an unopened one.

“Why not?” he asked again, his voice gentler now. “Just because you’re married? How many other females has he been with?”

Countless.

Maybe Eris was right about that too. Maybe you didn’t owe loyalty to a husband you had never wanted—a husband who had never been loyal to you. If he could have all the females he wanted, then maybe you could have the one male you wanted. The one person who always understood you, who never judged or mistreated you.

“When was the last time someone made you feel cherished?” Eris’s hand covered yours, his slender fingers intertwining with your own, squeezing once. “Made you feel good?”

You had never thought about your marriage in those terms. You had never wanted that union in the first place, so you had clung to the small things. Time away from your husband was good. You hadn’t shared a bed in a long time, and your conversations were awkward and stiff enough that the thought of intimacy hadn't crossed your mind in years. And you’d told yourself that was good enough.

But deep down, it had never really felt good.

Eris was still looking at you, his expression soft and understanding. As if he could see your every thought.

You looked away, unable to stomach it. “I don't know,” you finally whispered.

“Let me be that person.” He reached out, gently tilting your chin. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your eyes met again, and your resolve wavered. Then he brushed his thumb over your lips and spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“Let me love you.”

That word.

Love.

Your husband had never uttered it to you, nor had you to him. But hearing it from Eris… you knew he didn't mean just now—a stolen moment to carry in your heart. And that realization was the final push you needed.

You didn't know who moved first. One moment you were staring into each other's eyes. The next, your lips met.

He tasted like a wish come true after years of waiting.

You were done longing and yearning in secret, done pretending you didn't know what you truly wanted.

And as Eris loved you in front of the fireplace, you finally felt good. You felt cherished. And he took all night to make sure of it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[arialovesyou]

Umm, this looks so goooooood

The Value of Love

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

A/N: Thank you @batboyslutt for this request! I had so many different ideas for it, but unfortunately I could choose only one. I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻 and sorry for posting it later than usual, but I'm writing these day by day

Prompts: "We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong." + "Why can't you just admit the truth?" + angst + smut + forbidden romance because of Rhys

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, bit of miscommunication, arguments

Word count: 1.5k

Azriel’s kisses grew more insistent as his mouth trailed down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there. Your eyes were closed, your hands tangled in his hair, sliding down his back, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled against your skin, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even lift his head from the crook of your neck. “This is wrong.”

So he’d said—multiple times already.

You rolled your eyes. “Azriel,” you groaned. You cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet your gaze. “If you say that one more time while you’re balls-deep inside me, I am going to leave. Is that clear?”

Azriel’s hips faltered mid-thrust, then stilled, though he didn’t pull out. His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, his hair thoroughly mussed from your fingers running through it.

For a moment, you just stared at each other.

It was an argument you’d had more than once before, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time. But for him to bring it up during sex? That, you would not stand for.

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on your chest, his breath warm against your flushed skin. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You sighed. Careful not to brush against his slumped wings, you wrapped your arms around him and tugged him closer.

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” you murmured. These were some of the last few moments you’d have together before he left for the continent, and you had no intention of wasting them on the same old conversation. “I think we were in the middle of something.”

Azriel lifted his head to look at you, gratitude flickering in his gaze before a smirk bloomed on his beautiful face. “Yes, we were.”

He rolled his hips once, driving himself deeper inside you, and you gasped softly. From there, it was easy to forget the last couple of minutes and focus on nothing but each other.

Azriel resumed his movements, thrusting into you with slow, deep strokes that drew groans from both of you. Each sound was swallowed by a kiss—lips and tongues eager to meet, hands wandering across hard planes and soft curves. Your bodies moved together as if they were made for this, as if you and he were the only beings in the whole world and nothing else mattered.

Pleasure coiled tight in your core, ready to snap with each deliberate thrust. A whispered plea was all Azriel needed to pick up the pace. He brushed his lips up your jaw to your ear, murmuring quiet encouragements and tender words that made your heart swell.

With a breathy moan, you squirmed beneath him, fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as pleasure overwhelmed you. Azriel was close behind you, your release tipping him over the edge as well. He rocked his hips a few more times before spilling himself inside you, holding himself there for a moment, panting against your ear as you both slowly came down from your high.

You turned your head to capture his lips in another kiss, trying to convey everything you felt for him through that simple gesture—the affection, the desire, the emotions you still hadn’t voiced aloud.

Azriel kissed you back, pressing you into the mattress before rolling onto his side. He opened his arms, and you immediately snuggled closer, curling up against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, and for a few moments, you simply lay there, basking in the quiet afterglow.

But as the minutes ticked by and the lingering passion faded, his words crept back into your mind. You tried to push them away, to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lazy strokes of his hand along your back, but they refused to leave.

You hesitated briefly before speaking, your voice quiet. “Why can’t you just admit the truth?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just…” You searched for the right words, trying not to sound too confrontational. “You always say you don’t want my brother to know because he’s very protective of me, but I think there’s more to it.”

Azriel hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “And what do you think it is, then?”

“I think you’re scared,” you admitted. “Scared of how he’d react if he found out. That he’d tell you you don’t deserve to be with me and that I should find someone else.”

His hand stilled where it had been tracing slow circles on your hip. His expression was unreadable, his golden-brown eyes fixed on you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled away. Sitting up against the headboard, his wings stretched wide behind him, casting shadows over the sheets.

“That’s not what this is about,” he said. His voice was firm, but his gaze didn’t meet yours.

You pushed yourself up as well, keeping your eyes on him. You had thought about this for a long time now—how your brother would react if he knew about your relationship. You weren’t naive. You knew Rhys would be furious at first. But you also knew he would come around and realize that his little sister was grown, that he couldn’t keep males away from her forever. That she could choose for herself who to love.

“Az,” you called, taking his hand in yours. You waited until he finally looked at you again before you continued. “I know telling him might seem terrifying, but Rhys would be happy to know it’s you. You’re his best friend, and I’m his sister. If we make each other happy, why would he be against it?”

Azriel shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

That excuse again. It’s not that simple. You make it sound so easy. You don’t understand. He wouldn’t understand. Always the same words, but never a real answer.

And you were growing tired of it.

Frustration flared hot in your chest as you pulled your hand back.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded. Your tone was sharper than intended, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. “Because from where I’m standing, the only other explanation is that you value Rhysand’s friendship more than… whatever this thing between us is.”

Azriel’s brow knitted together, his expression torn between confusion and disbelief. “You know what this is, princess. You know I love you.”

“So you’ve said.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You saw the flicker of hurt in his hazel eyes, and your chest ached in response. But you didn’t take it back. You couldn’t.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was quieter now, cautious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze and push the words out. “It means that saying the words isn’t enough. You have to show me. And right now, you’re not doing a great job.”

Azriel inhaled sharply, as if stung. “At least I love you.”

The moment the words left his lips, regret flashed across his face. But it was too late.

They landed like a blade to the chest, slicing through the last thread of your patience.

“Y/N, I—”

You batted away the hand he reached toward you and instead got up to collect the clothes scattered on the floor.

“I do love you, Azriel,” you said, voice tight as you yanked your underwear back on. “But do you want to know why I never told you?”

He looked startled by your declaration at first, but he quickly nodded when he realized you were waiting for an answer.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” you admitted, fingers swiftly buttoning up your shirt. "Because you want to keep this a secret, while I think that what we have is worth so much more than just a few stolen moments in the dark.” You slipped into your trousers, your eyes still on him. “Because I’m tired of hiding from my friends and family just because you’re scared of how my brother might react.”

Azriel said nothing. His jaw was tense, his gaze locked onto the crumpled blankets, refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite the ache in your heart, you stepped back toward the door.

“I won’t hide anymore,” you went on. “Not when it makes you miserable, but you refuse to change it. It's making me miserable too.” You let out a deep breath. “You have to make a choice, Azriel. But if you really love me like you say you do… then it should be an easy one.”

Your fingers curled around the doorknob. Still, he didn’t look at you—didn’t try to talk you out of it, to convince you to stay, to stop you from leaving.

Your blood boiled in your veins.

“Good luck on your mission,” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[arialovesyou]

will u be my valentine (slightly less platonic ??)

OMG YES!!!!

*squeals*

[arialovesyou]

since you haven't asked me to be your valentine or galentine I shall be announcing a bestfriend/mutual/wifey all in one for sale, anyone who wants to take the pedestal can message me and i'll GLADLY accept your proposal *side eye at the blog owner* the product may include unnecessary spamming, hysteria, weird and dark jokes, ranting , alot of ilysms and ily, but i will gladly be open to being ur friend AND even make a playlist for you offer open till 13 february (*times ticking*)

Who are you bae, because I wanna know who I’m marrying 🤭🤭🤭

[arialovesyou]

“Azriel arched a brow, but he did not protest as she dusted his cheeks with the glitter. Instead, he feigned a dramatic gasp, touching his face. “I feel positively radiant,” he declared, making both girls shriek with laughter.” HE LOVES IT

“You dare laugh at a princess?” he rumbled, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.” IM LITERALLY WHEEZING

I can’t— holy crap this was way more funnier than it should’ve been

*excuse me while pass away from lack of air*

Pretty Princesses | fluff

Azriel x reader A/N- thank you so much for a 100 followers love you all so much, this is the best birthday present ever <33 also my requests are open for a 100 followers celebration so ask away and let me know if you wanna be tagged also i stole inspo from the rocks video Warnings- none just a lot of fluff

Azriel was a force of nature. A warrior whose name sent shivers through the spines of enemies and allies alike. The darkness clung to him, not as a curse, but as an extension of his very being. His mastery over the shadows was unparalleled, his blades quicker than the eye could track. No one controlled him, no one commanded him—except perhaps Rhysand, but even then, it was a tenuous thing, a bond of trust rather than obedience.

There wasn’t a battlefield he hadn’t conquered, a war he hadn’t outlived. The mere mention of his name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of those who opposed him. He was lethal, ruthless, a whisper of death carried on the wind. But time, it seemed, was the one thing even the great Shadowsinger could not fight.

Three Centuries Later

The once-feared warrior now sat cross-legged on a plush rug in the middle of his home, his usually sharp, scarred hands now adorned with glittery rings and sticky, colorful paint. His daughters, twin toddling whirlwinds of mischief and delight, were giggling as they draped him in layers of fabric, a tiara slightly too small perched atop his head.

“Papa, you have to drink your tea,” the older of the two, barely three years old, declared with all the authority of a queen addressing her court. She held out a tiny teacup filled with absolutely nothing, but her golden-brown eyes—so much like her mother’s—shimmered with expectation.

Azriel, the mighty warrior, the deadly Shadowsinger, lifted the cup delicately between his fingers, took an exaggerated sip, and sighed as if it were the finest wine in all of Prythian. “Exquisite, my lady,” he said gravely, bowing his head slightly. “A most delightful brew.”

The younger one, barely two and still unsteady on her chubby feet, clapped her hands in delight. “More tea, Papa!” she insisted, lifting her own cup towards him. A tiny stuffed bear sat in her lap, watching with button-eyed approval.

From the doorway, you watched it all unfold, barely holding back laughter. Your husband—your terrifying, untouchable, deadly husband—was currently covered in pink and purple scarves, fake pearls draped around his neck, and a large butterfly sticker plastered to his forehead. And yet, he looked more content than you had ever seen him.

Azriel caught your eye, his shadows curling lazily around him, brushing against his daughters like affectionate pets. There was warmth in his gaze, a depth of love that no one else had ever been privy to.

“You dare laugh at a princess?” he rumbled, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You grinned, stepping into the room. “Not at a princess,” you corrected, moving to press a kiss to his cheek. “Just at my husband, the prettiest warrior in all of Prythian.”

Your daughters squealed with glee at the declaration, their little hands eagerly adding more adornments to their father’s unwilling but unresisting form. Azriel simply sighed, resigned, and let them.

The feared Shadowsinger, tamer of shadows, wielder of truth and steel, had been utterly and completely conquered by two tiny, giggling girls.

“Papa, you need more sparkles!” your eldest announced, furrowing her tiny brows in concentration as she grabbed a small container of shimmery powder from her collection of “makeup.”

Azriel arched a brow, but he did not protest as she dusted his cheeks with the glitter. Instead, he feigned a dramatic gasp, touching his face. “I feel positively radiant,” he declared, making both girls shriek with laughter.

The younger one, now sitting snugly in his lap, reached up with her tiny fingers and patted his cheek. “Pretty Papa,” she murmured approvingly.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, stepping forward and taking a seat beside him. “I think they’ve truly transformed you,” you mused, reaching up to gently adjust his tiara. “The mighty Shadowsinger, reduced to a glittering spectacle.”

Azriel hummed in agreement, leaning in slightly as you ran your fingers through his dark hair. “And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

Your heart swelled at his words, at the sheer adoration in his voice as he looked at his daughters. These two little girls had him wrapped around their fingers, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Papa, we have one more thing,” your eldest declared, grabbing something from her toy chest. She and her sister exchanged a mischievous look before presenting it with a flourish—a pair of delicate, pastel wings meant for playing dress-up.

Azriel blinked, glancing at the small, feathery appendages. “You wish to give me wings?” he asked, amusement dancing in his voice.

The younger one nodded eagerly. “Pretty wings, like Mama’s!”

You stifled a laugh as you saw the seriousness in their eyes, their tiny hands already fastening the wings to his back. And just like that, the mighty warrior who had once been feared across battlefields now sat, utterly regal, in a tiara, scarves, glitter, and a pair of tiny, pastel fairy wings.

Azriel sighed dramatically. “I have been defeated.”

Your daughters cheered, climbing into his lap to hug him, their tiny arms wrapping around their “pretty princess” of a father.

You simply smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I think you’ve won, actually.”

And as Azriel sat there, holding his daughters close, his shadows curling around all three of you, he knew without a doubt—you were right. @anarchiii @darkbloodsly @sunnyspycat @er1023 @clementine111002 @buubblles @onebadassunicorn @donnadiddadog @ren-ni @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @tele86 @sillyfreakfanparty @sopheeg @secretlyhers @isa1b2h3 @readinshadows @thesunloveschips @generalmoonpolice @kathren1sky-blog @willowpains @theravenpheonix26

[arialovesyou]

Yo, my peeps!!! 100 followers!!

Nah actually, thank you so much y’all, love you to death <3

(I’ll try post something soon in celebration)

[arialovesyou]

The Wrong Thing

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: just some angst, beautiful beautiful angst :) and comfort obvi (if i make a p2), oh and not proof read lol

The quiet hum of the night settled around the House of Wind, the moonlight casting silver shadows across the balcony. It had been a long, grueling day, as Cassian was relentless in your Valkyrie training.

You gently pealed off your grimy leathers and sighed, feeling relieved. The House started the bath, and you almost moaned at the thought of rinsing all the dried sweat and dirt off you. The water was warm, the scent of lavender and rose petals filling the air as you sank into the bath. Your muscles, sore from the day’s exertions, slowly relaxed under the soothing heat, the steam rising around you like a soft mist. Azriel was the one to advise on using lavender oil for sore muscles, and in that moment you couldn't be more thankful.

After the bath, you slipped on one of Azriel's old shirts that you stole and climbed under the mountain of covers and stuffed animals on your bed, each a special gift that you collected from your dearest friends and family.

Sleep didn't find you that night, and the moon was high in the sky when you gave up on trying. Soft moonlight shined through your cracked window curtains, casting a glow within the shadows of your room.

You padded out into the hallway, intent on making a cup of tea in the kitchen that would hopefully make you drowsy enough to get a few hours of shut eye before Cassian banged on your door for morning training.

As your tea steeped, you looked out the window at the stars that danced across the sky, feeling completely at peace. You got up and wandered to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. As you stepped out, the night air wrapped around you like a cool embrace, the faintest trace of something sweet carried on the wind. You leaned against the stone railing, feeling the rough texture under your palms, and let your gaze drift upward. The sky stretched out in front of you, vast and endless, a tapestry of stars glittering like diamonds on a velvet cloth. It was like the universe was holding its breath, every star hanging in perfect stillness.

A soft rustling of wings broke the stillness, as Azriel landed beside you.

"You're up late," he joked softly.

"I could same the same about you," you reply.

He gave a rare soft laugh, a welcome sound that filled your belly with warmth and automatically brought a smile to your face. "I suppose we’re both too stubborn to sleep."

He smirked, his lips quirking at the corners. "That’s one way of putting it."

You grimaced. "Bad dreams again?"

He looked down over the balcony, "You know, I think Cassian is mixing up the training lesson tomorrow; we're going to work on group fighting, which I think will be hel..."

"Azriel." You cut him off quietly but firmly. "I asked you a question."

He sighed, paused, then almost imperceptibly nodded.

Your heart broke as he turned his head away from you, and you couldn't help but immediately pull him into your arms, locking your hands around his neck. His hands snaked around your waist automatically, and you couldn't help but notice that you wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of your life. His head tucked into your neck, softly breathing in your scent.

His deep voice was muffled as he whispered. "I should be over them right now, right? How do they still keep coming back?"

Your heart broke all over again.

You regretfully pulled away, and grasped the sides of his head so he focused on you. "Listen to me very carefully Az. You. Are. Not. Weak. You have been through unimaginable things, trauma that any lesser male would have crumbled from. I look at you every day, and I could not be prouder of who you are."

He didn't respond right away, his breath shallow, shadows curling around his feet and snaking up your wrists. His eyes glistened, the faintest sheen of moisture gathering at the rims, as if a single, fragile breath could break the dam holding them back. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze deepened as the air around them seemed to grow heavier, as if the very weight of their emotions was too much to contain.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the world seemed to shift in an instant. Your heart raced, your senses flared, and suddenly, you were overwhelmed by an unrelenting sense of love and protection. The golden bond stretched between you, and Azriel's eyes softened, a quiet hope brightening the hazel you loved to look at. It was raw—too much, too sudden—and it left you breathless for a moment, scrambling to make sense of it.

Before you could even think, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"No."

As soon as the light had come, it left Azriel's eyes, winking out from existence as he pulled away from your embrace as if burned.

Your heart shattered as pain lanced through your chest, realizing what you had done. Your mind raced, trying to undo what you’d said as you fumbled to find your words.

The weight of what you said hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and you could see it in his eyes—how they flickered with confusion, hurt, and something deeper, something far more vulnerable. You had never wanted to cause him pain, never meant for those words to slip out the way they did. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The words felt stuck, trapped somewhere deep inside of you.

He stood there, silent, his expression a careful mask, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. It cut deeper than anything you'd ever felt before. He looked as if the ground had just been ripped out from under him, as though something inside him had been shattered—by you.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You could feel him pulling away, the space between you growing wider with every passing second.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the words trembled on your lips. You stepped forward, but he took a slow step back, his jaw clenched tight. There was a distance in his gaze now, an emotional wall rising between you that had never been there before.

His eyes were distant, his usually calm demeanor now laced with an edge of something darker. You had never seen him like this. Never this vulnerable. Never this raw.

"I didn’t mean it," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. The thoughts of the damage you had done washed over you in waves, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. "I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, just—"

He held up a hand, stopping you, his gaze flickering down as he took a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, as if each word was being dragged from him. "No. I...I need to leave. Now."

His wings flared up getting ready to take off, away from you, away from your desperate attempts to explain. You reached a hand out, in an effort to keep him with you, but he backed away, eyes displaying the agony you felt mirrored in your soul.

As his wingbeats fell away, your chest constricted. You could feel the newly forged bond, this beautiful, wonderful bond you had waited for for centuries that you already fucked up, stretch and start to fray at the edges. You grasped your chest, trying to dig your hands in to physically hold the bond tight and never let go. The first tears finally broke free, and the dam shattered as you sunk to the ground, breaking into pieces, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way it hurt—how it felt like you were losing him.

You desperately drew in breath, trying to get your breathing under control in vain. As your exhales and crying finally quieted, a numbness took over your body. Your breathe was the only noise around, the wind dead and birds silent, and you realized how alone you were. Your best friend, who had been with you through everything, was gone, and he hated you. Your beautiful, kind, loving, selfless mate who deserved so much more than you, was gone, and he'd likely never want to see you again.