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liahaslosthermind · 8 days ago

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𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

A Soft Place to Land PT 2 Azriel x Preschool Teacher!OC, [Eventual] Inner Circle x OC (platonic), [Eventual] Nyx x Teacher!OC (platonic)

Summary: A silent gift. A painted thank-you. Azriel and Liora begin to see each other.

Warnings: skin irritation, bleeding hands, passive-aggressive coworkers, minor body image insecurity, chronic condition (sensitive skin/compulsive hand washing) A/N: The puffy paint incident™ is inspired by real life events from last week. The annoying coworker is also inspired by real life events from last week.

She knew the puffy paint would be messy, but Liora hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

The binding solution she added to the paint and shaving cream had made the concoction far too sticky. It was all over the table, all over her clothes as well as her students’, and in their hair.

She took an exacerbated breath and looked at the skylight as she sent a prayer to the Mother-

How did they manage to land some on the ceiling?

Fortunately, it washed off with water. Even though she got dirty looks from some of the parents at pick up when their kids’ clothes and hair were damp, she knew sending them home dirty would have just caused an even bigger problem.

She had done the project a few times in the past years and it had never gone like this. Liora couldn’t wrap her head around what could have changed.

Still trying to wipe down the sticky table, she decided to check the ingredients she used.

The shaving cream and binding solution were… expired. She rolled her eyes as she tossed them in the trash. She never kept expired supplies, both because she was anxious about any bad reactions the kids could get from it, and because she was a germaphobe that gagged at the thought of expired goods. But there was one person who didn’t have the same reservations…

Miss Iulia was the extracurricular teacher. She came in shortly after Liora sent the last kid home with their parents to set up for whatever program she was running in the afternoon, but always found the time to offer unsolicited advice or passive aggressive comments about ‘what she would do instead’ or ‘how Miss Ama’s techniques clearly showed how little she has worked with children’.

Of all of the children’s teachers in Velaris, Liora was the youngest by far. The one closest in age was still 300 years older than her. While her 371 years weren’t something to balk at, even by the seemingly immortal fae standards, Liora had proven time and time again that age didn’t correlate with ability or talent. Even the most entitled of parents could never admit she was anything less than incredible with their kids. Shit- her class was one of the most requested in the city, often meaning she had to deny far more children then she would have liked because of the demand.

Miss Iulia, on the other hand, didn’t work as a full time teacher because she couldn’t. She had in the past, but she never got along with the parents and often couldn’t work with other teachers because of her inability to collaborate or compromise.

If it wasn’t so annoying, Liora would find humor in the fact that this woman was expected to teach children to share and communicate when she couldn’t do either of those things herself.

Hence why she only worked in the afternoon programs, a job none of the other teachers wanted.

When Miss Iulia came into her classroom, the room was spotless. It had been two hours since the last student was picked up, and Liora spent every second scrubbing the classroom.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten the time to clean up herself.

“My goodness, I thought you would have been out of here by now, you always seem so eager to leave after your class is done.” the older woman commented. “Seems like the craft today was a little too much for you to handle, no?” she asked, looking Liora up and down with a disapproving look.

“The puffy paint didn’t go well, unfortunately.” the younger female forced out a laugh, knowing any returned snarkiness wouldn’t do her any favors.

“I have done the project hundreds of times over the years, I’ve never had a problem.”

Liora felt her eye twitch, “Some of the ingredients were expired. Which usually wouldn’t cause too much of a problem, but I hadn’t know they were ahead of time, so I wasn’t able to add something to counteract the effects.” If Miss Iulia hadn’t used up the rest of my personal supplies without asking, and instead replaced them with expired ones thinking I wouldn’t notice, then I wouldn’t be stuck here looking a mess and getting passive aggressive comments thrown at me.

“Well, at least the classroom is in one piece. Even if it’s teacher isn’t.”

Liora wasn’t one for violence, but she really wanted to throttle the female in front of her.

Deciding it was better to not dignify her comments with a response, Liora went to the sink to wash her hands once more.

Turning on the faucet, she hissed when cool water hit her hands. Looking down, she was unsurprised to see them extremely irritated and bleeding. Knowing it was better to just get it over with, Liora grabbed the soap and started scrubbing her hands, holding her breath to keep in her pained moans.

All her life, Liora had an obsession with cleanliness, unable to stomach the thought of germs and bacteria. Which, considering the fact she worked with young children, was laughable. Because of her “quirk” as her brother teasingly put it, she would wash her hands incessantly and clean everything till it was spotless, which again, as a preschool teacher, meant she spent a lot of time cleaning.

Another fact about Liora, she had extremely sensitive skin. She couldn’t use most soaps, lotions, creams, shampoos, cleaners, etc, without immediately irritating whatever part of her skin it came into contact with. While she had been able to find body washes, shampoos, conditioners, and soaps that wouldn’t hurt her, none of them were good enough, in her opinion, for the kind of disinfection she needed to have for her classroom.

So during the multitude of times she washed her hands each school day, she had to just shake off the burning sensation and hope they would become numb, which they eventually did.

At the end of each day, her dry, cracked, and irritated skin on her hands would often start to bleed.

After the first few days the children stopped asking about them, happy with the answer she supplied: “Miss Ama’s hands don’t like getting washed, but because it is very important to wash your hands, Miss Ama must do it anyway, even if they throw a tantrum after”. The children always laughed after, and anytime they saw her hands become red, her students would kindly reprimand them and ‘remind her hands of the importance of washing up’, even if the toddlers still fought her when it was their turn to do so.

Those simple interactions with her students made her feel safe and comfortable with something that had been such an insecurity for her her entire life. While she still hid her hands when parents came to pick up, and she often wore gloves if she thought she could get away with it, in her classroom, she didn’t need to worry about what others would think. And that was such a blessing.

As she continued to grit her teeth as she scrubbed her hands raw, Liora missed the wisp of shadow curling around her ankles, watching.

Azriel didn’t usually have his Shadows check on her. They would head down as he flew over, usually just to hear what the children were saying because despite being creatures who preferred the darkness and to remain unseen, his Shadows felt the children’s infectious joy just as much as he had.

It was still early afternoon, but he knew the preschoolers would have been picked up already, so he hadn’t expected the glimpse he got of their teacher as she looked down, working on… something. Without a word, his Shadows went to investigate. It wasn’t unusual for her to remain in the classroom hours after her students, but Azriel got an uneasy feeling as he watched her do whatever it was that garnered all her attention, she didn’t even notice him fly overhead.

Azriel continued on his way as the Shadows whispered what they observed.

Water.

Pain.

A wince.

The scent of iron.

Bleeding.

His jaw tightened as he came to a halt, flying idly as he turned around.

He would just check quickly, then he’d be on his way.

She wouldn’t even notice.

She hadn’t cried out. Hadn’t stopped her scrubbing. Just kept moving, her hands raw and bleeding. The Spymaster observed her posture, tight with exhaustion. Her hair was pulled into an updo, clearly for practicality rather than style. Before he could warn them away, Azriel saw one of his Shadows curl around her ankle as a small offering of comfort. She didn’t even notice.

As he noticed another female in the room, Azriel turned back the way he came, deciding he had more important things to do than a patrol he could simply send his Shadows on.

Liora was exhausted when she got home. She had intended to leave right after Miss Iulia got there, but her reputation as a pushover had gotten her stuck helping the nasty woman set up for her program, causing Liora to return home an hour later.

While the remnants of the puffy paint disaster had all been washed away, there was no fixing its damage on her hands, at least not tonight.

After showering and putting on her pajamas, Liora looked down at her hands and sighed. They had become numb to the pain hours ago, but the itchiness was really starting to bother her.

As she looked at the package she had gotten delivered for an art project she wanted to start, then back at her hands, she shook her head and put the box in her home office. I’ll try and come up with some other craft to do tomorrow, she thought as she went to grab the salve she had become all too familiar with. After applying ample amounts to her hands, she put on her gloves and went to lay down in bed, praying tomorrow would be better.

Liora felt renewed optimism as she walked on the forest trail that led to her classroom. There was just… something in the air that had set her expectations for the day high.

She quickly checked the mailbox outside her door, letting out an excited squeak that would have had her blushing with embarrassment if she hadn’t known for certain she was alone. She picked up the stack of children’s books she had special ordered from various courts, hoping to teach the children about what lived beyond the borders of the Night Court, especially since many of the children had family who emigrated from those places.

As she unlocked the door, she thought of all the activities they could do in the new unit she wanted to start after the two week break the children get for Winter Solstice. They wouldn’t have time to start with the break starting the following day, but the ideas that tumbled into her mind made trying to figure out what to do that day even more difficult.

They have made cards for family, baked goods and read books on the holiday. We’ve sung songs and played holiday games, Liora thought, coming to a blank when trying to decide what could be done in the few hours she had them today.

Her thoughts came to a halt as she noticed a wrapped bundle on her desk. She looked around in concern, knowing it wasn’t there before she left and Miss Iulia certainly wasn’t leaving her gifts.

The ribbon was a familiar cobalt blue, a leather cord tying the cloth bundle together, and a note had been tucked underneath the package.

Safe to use. No scent. No sting. You shouldn’t have to bleed to feel clean.

Underneath was a list, filled with many ingredients she recognized as safe for her sensitivity. Some of them though, she was unfamiliar with.

The handwriting on the note and on the list were different, clearly two people had compiled it. She didn’t recognize either of them, though the ingredient list had sloppy handwriting she often expected from healers. She would always tease her brother about how illegible his penmanship would be if she hadn’t had experience working with fae of all ages who were just learning to read and write.

As she looked back at the ribbon and cord, her heart skipped a beat, though she wasn’t sure why. It was like her heart knew something her mind wouldn’t let her think.

She quickly opened the package and took the two medium sized vials to the sink. After touching the books that had just been delivered, she probably should have washed her hands anyway, even if she was mostly just eager to test out the products.

The water felt cool, the salve she put on last night having helped heal a lot of the irritation and dryness she had. She hesitated only a moment before picking up the bottle labeled Soap, already preparing herself for the familiar sting.

But it never came.

As she scrubbed, she didn’t feel the pain from the suds lathering her hands. Her hands didn’t even get irritated until she started to scrubb harder, not believing the sight in front of her.

Once the sting she knew very well started to appear, she turned off the water, staring in wonder as her hands slowly returned from the redness to their natural tone.

When they finally dried, she grabbed the lotion. Though she usually waited to put anything on her hands if she knew she would just have to wash it off when she went to scrubb again, she couldn’t stop herself from pouring the mixture on.

Liora gasped at the sensation she felt. Like drinking cold water after having a mint, the coolness on her hands was… refreshing.

She looked down at them once more. Her hands still bore the scars from a life of irritation, she knew that most would remain forever, but they felt like new.

The happiest of tears slipped from her eyes as she went back to the bundle, hoping she had missed a tag that shared her saviors’ name.

While her mind hadn’t put two and two together the way her heart had, she sent a prayer to the Mother to thank whomever had done such a thing.

It was almost their scheduled time for crafts, and Liora still had no idea what to do. She set up the paint, grabbed sheets of paper and paintbrushes. She could just let them freepaint, but she wanted to do something meaningful with them.

As they sat at their tables, eating snack, Ovidia came up to her, holding out her snack pouch the three year old couldn’t seem to open.

“Miss Ama,” the girl asked, looking down with a cheeky smile, “do you think the Shadow man will come say bye before we leave?”

Liora smiled, handing the now opened pouch back as she noticed the blush forming on the young girl’s face, a feeling the preschool teacher knew all too well when thinking of him.

“I don’t think so, Ovi. He is probably preparing for the holiday with his family. But I’m sure he will be back after break.” Despite her words, Liora prayed he would come visit.

Just once to hold her over before the two week break.

Ovidia grabbed her snack, looking a little upset at her teacher’s words, “My brother said he’s scary, but-BUT I like the way he flies.” Ovidia said, enthusiasm returning. “He seems nice.” She admitted quietly.

Liora smiled, before a thought struck her. Gasping in shock, she tried to reign in her emotions when she saw she startled the girl in front of her, quickly apologizing before asking her to sit back at her table and eat her food.

Quickly, Liora pulled the ribbon and the cord out of her dress pocket. For some reason, she had wanted to keep it close to her, she had even found her hand’s unconsciously dipping into her pocket to hold them, finding comfort in their smooth touch. As she looked at them again, the dark leather and the cobalt blue, she found the familiarity in the combination, smiling as she thought of her- the Shadowsinger. While it could have been a coincidence, it probably was, Liora let herself live in this fantasy, if only for a moment. As she played with the ribbon and cord absentmindedly, she looked back at the art supplies, and found inspiration at last.

Madja had been concerned when she heard the Spymaster had needed her urgently.

That concern grew to confusion and mild annoyance as she looked him up and down and saw that he was in fact unharmed.

“Someone else better be dying to warrant almost giving me a heart attack.” The healer mumbled, though Azriel could see the relief in her eyes at the realization that he was in fact fine.

He explained the situation to her, and while Madja was a healer, she wasn’t the best suited for what the Shadowsinger wanted. After being referred to an apothecary run by someone Madja reassured him she trusted and knew would be able to help in even more than she could, Azriel ended up with two items wrapped in a cloth for the female who had unconsciously made space for herself in his mind.

Azriel hadn’t even realized that she had wormed her way into his thoughts. They hadn’t interacted beyond a quick wave… or wink on the days he was feeling confident. He had no right to think about her as much as he did. But just like the compulsion he got that sent him flying over her classroom on that fateful day two years ago, he realized he didn’t have much control over himself when it came to her.

He didn’t leave his name, hadn’t wanted to overstep his boundaries or scare her. He knew what reputation preceded him, even if she seemed to be welcoming when he flew over her classroom.

He let the Shadows take the present to her classroom. While he could have shadow-walked into the space, he could feel the wards around the area. It would have taken little to no effort for him to get through them, but that kind of magic could be finicky, and the last thing Azriel wanted was to accidentally break the wards that were put in place for the safety of children just because he was experiencing some strange feelings towards their teacher.

Days later, Azriel found himself flying the familiar path he had taken a few times a week for two years.

The Spymaster knew the classroom would be empty, it was Solstice afterall, but he wasn’t there for his usual reasons.

He loved his family, he truly did, but the past few years have made spending time with them much harder.

They hadn’t meant to make him feel unwelcome, but watching them all start to create their new lives and families without him had hurt far more than he would ever say. He was happy for them. He loved seeing them experience joy that had been taken away so many times, and Azriel would instantly sacrifice himself just so they could continue feeling that joy. But he could only take so much.

He woke up that morning feeling a bit more prickly than usual, which made breakfast with the Inner Circle harder to stomach, especially as the constant teasing and jokes just pushed him closer to the edge. So there he was, flying the very route he often took when he needed a moment to himself.

The same route that just so happened to take him over the classroom.

So despite knowing no one was there, Azriel still looked down through the skylight to get a glimpse of the room. He paused in the air the moment he saw it.

Multiple pieces of paper covered the glass on the ceiling. He couldn’t make out the blurs of color from up so high, but as he grew closer he saw that most of the paintings seemed to be… of him.

Or at least, a figure with black blobs for wings and covered in dots of blue- these were painted by small children after all.

In the middle though, Azriel could read out the neat and beautiful cursive; he had no doubt about who wrote it.

“Happy Solstice, Shadowsinger. May you get all the toys you wanted”

Signed, Miss Ama and her students

Azriel chuckled as he read the note. Clearly, the toy sentiment was from the students themselves. As he looked at all of the paintings, some with just him and others with smaller figures, most likely self portraits, accompanying him, Azriel felt a spark of pure, unadulterated joy at the art.

He took one more look at each painting, trying to commit them to memory because he couldn’t take them home, and flew back the way he came, ready to face the holiday with his family once more.

Taglist: @lemon-sage17, @slut4acotar, @casiiopea2, @queenoffeysand,

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar x oc #inner circle x reader

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liahaslosthermind · 10 days ago

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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬

A Soft Place to Land PT 1

Azriel x Preschool Teacher!OC, [Eventual] Inner Circle x OC (platonic), [Eventual] Nyx x Teacher!OC (platonic)

Summary: A preschool teacher. A passing shadowsinger. Connecting one wave at a time.

Warnings: Nothing this is fluffy, ig redundant dialogue but she is a preschool teacher that’s how these things go.

“Miss Ama,” she heard one of her students call her name, “Alby took my doggy.”

“Albus,” the teacher called, not yet looking up from her notebook. Using the boy's full name had the three-year-old in question sitting up straight as he continued to play with the stolen dog toy. While he refused to acknowledge his teacher when she called his name a second and third time, Liora could tell by his stiff posture and the decreased speed at which he played with said toy that he was very much aware of his crime.

And still, he refused to look at her when she called his name a fourth time. But at least he hadn’t run off to hide like he’d done every other time he got in trouble over the past two weeks he had been in her class. Little steps are still steps.

“Albus.” She said once more, firmly but not unkindly. She stood behind the boy as he finally turned around to look up at her, a guilty look crossing his sweet face.

“Can you tell me why Faustina is upset right now?” Liora asked as she crouched to his level.

“B-because he stole her–” Felix interrupted, having watched the entire situation unfold and ready to tattle at the drop of a hat.

She raised a hand to gently halt Felix’s testimony, “Sweetheart, I would like to hear from Albus what happened, but thank you for trying to help. Could you please do me a big favor and put this marker away for me?” she asked, handing the toddler the one in her hand.

Sometimes the best way to handle a situation with toddlers was simply distraction.

She watched as Felix left for the craft area, laughing softly when he was distracted by something else just 5 steps into his mission. Then, with a knowing look at Albus, she turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

“Tina played with the doggy all morning.” he confessed with a groan. “She didn’t let me have a turn.”

“Did you ask her for a turn?”

“Yes!”

“No he didn’t!”

Both Tina and Alby responded at the same time.

Unsurprisingly, two and three year olds were rarely reliable sources.

Maybe she should have let Felix bear witness.

As the two began to bicker, she calmly placed a hand on each of their shoulders, effectively quitting both parties down. “My friends, what do we do when someone has a toy we really want to play with?”

“Ask nicely to play with it,” both children murmured, looking down with guilt filled eyes and downturned mouths. They were the sweetest of angels and the sneakiest of devils, but it was so hard to ever stay mad when they looked so pitiful when in trouble.

“Right, and what do we do when our friend has played with a toy for a long time and won’t share?” she asked, sending a pointed look at both.

“We ask again or tell Miss Ama.” Albus answered sorrowfully.

“Do we take toys from our friends?”

“No” both Albus and Faustina answered.

“Exactly, my friends. Now Tina, do you think you can go play with another toy? I can bring out the animal puzzle you like so much.”

The young girl nodded enthusiastically at that and skipped off, the conflict already forgotten. Albus turned to continue playing with the dog toy, but she wasn’t done with the situation yet.

“Albus,” she said gently. “you know we don’t take things from people’s hands, do you see how sad it made Tina?” Albus nodded gravely, putting the dog toy down.

“Why don’t you come help me pick colors for our flower paintings?”

The little boy didn’t look impressed at the suggestion, shaking his head and huffing. So Liora tried a different tactic. “We just got new colors we haven’t used before, there are too many options and since you are so good at your colors, it would be a really big help if you could come with me. Please?”

In an instant the boy was standing and ready to go, grabbing his teacher’s hand and dragging her to the art closet. Sometimes, all a child needed was to know how much they mattered.

With the completed paintings set on the drying rack, her students finished with lunch, and cleanup done, all twelve of her students sat patiently on the rug as she got ready to read a story. But before she could say the title, one of them gasped and pointed to the window by the front of the room.

As all the other eleven little heads turned in the direction, Liora set the book aside with a sigh, knowing she’d lost them for at least the next twenty minutes.

A flurry of giggles broke out as a flash of black and cobalt blue streaked past the far window.

She didn’t even try to hide the smile tugging at her lips as her students pressed their faes to the glass, practically vibrating with excitement. They waited in anticipation for their favorite part of school.

He had been doing it for around 2 years now. Whenever his patrols or missions had him flying over the southwest corner of Velaris, or whenever he simply needed the distraction, Azriel would detour past her classroom windows, putting on a brief aerial show just for the children.

And maybe a little for their teacher too.

Never more than a minute or two, just a quick turn, dive, and pass with his wings flaring wide, but it made the student’s day.

While she’d never admit it outloud, the simple gesture made Liora’s whole week.

Though they had seen each other often, Azriel and Liora had never interacted more than a simple wave from the teacher and a wink from the Spymaster. That wink, mischievous and sharply timed, always sent a deep blush to her cheeks. Luckily, the Shadowsinger was too far away to notice.

This is one of the most terrifying males in Prythian, she thought to herself as she watched him entertain a gaggle of preschoolers, and here he is, making them laugh with spins and dives, simply because he can.

When his shadows disappeared past the trees, the room slowly began to settle. She turned back to her students, their eyes still wide and filled with wonder, all babbling about their favorite move or guessing where he was off to next.

She let them chatter for a bit, getting it all out of their system, before she picked up the storybook again, flipping to the first page, but her thoughts lagged behind.

She’d never tell anyone, she couldn’t even admit it to herself, but sometimes, when he passed by, she prayed he’d stop.

Just once.

Just long enough to say hello.

“Alright, friends,” she said, lifting the book with a smile. “Where were we?”

High above the treetops, Azriel let the wind carry him. He angled his wings slightly, just enough for him to catch one final glimpse at the classroom below.

He couldn’t hear them from this distance, though his shadows would often report any special commentary from the kids. But he could feel the way they watched in anticipation, in awe.

Or maybe… it was just her.

He hadn’t meant to make it a habit, but the first time he’d flown past and seen the way her face lit up, surrounded by wide eyed children pressing their faces to the glass, he hadn’t been able to stop.

Just a little detour, he always told himself.

Just a little longer, next time.

A/N: Part 1!!! I have so many ideas! The future is filled with fluff (and angst, but not in the way you're thinking of)

Link to dividers (aren’t they so cutsie I thought they screamed preschool)

Taglist: @lemon-sage17

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel fluff #acotar angst #azriel #azriel x oc #inner circle x reader

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liahaslosthermind · 11 days ago

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𝐀 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝|| Series Masterlist

Azriel x Preschool Teacher!OC, Inner Circle x OC (platonic), Nyx x Teacher!OC (platonic)

Summary: Azriel spent his days spying on fae and his nights torturing information out of enemies. He had fought in battles and wars, and could usually be found with his hands covered in scars and blood. Liora Amabilia, know to most as Miss Ama, spent her days wrangling a gaggle of preschool children and her nights setting up various crafts and preparing magic experiments. She had fought entitled parents and rude assistants, and could usually be found with her hands covered in paint or blood from her cracked and dry hands caused by incessant handwashing. Was it a cruel joke or a blessing from the Mother that these two would be connected together by such sacred bond?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

1. 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬

A preschool teacher. A passing shadowsinger. Connecting one wave at a time.

2. 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

A secret gift. A painted thank-you. Azriel and Liora begin to see each other.

A/N: This is my loveletter as a preschool teacher who adores fantasy (and a certain Shadowsinger). I can't wait for you all to read and I hope you enjoy!

#lia speaks (it would be nice if she would shut up)#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar angst #azriel fluff #acotar fic #azriel x oc #azriel acotar

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liahaslosthermind · 11 days ago

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Hello friends! Thank you all so much for the kindest of words on my 2 part fic About Damn Time! I can't tell you how much I appreciate them.

I am currently working on another fic, though I think I might make it a mini series. It would be Azriel (of course) x preschool teacher!reader with mostly fluff but also a tinsy amount of angst. It's completely self indulgent because I am a preschool teacher and love my job but so badly wish I had a certain Shadowsinger to keep my company.

Let me know your thoughts and if it's something you are interested in! I can share more details if that is what you all would like.

Best,

Lia

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar angst #azriel fluff #acotar fic #acotar fluff #lia speaks (it would be nice if she would shut up)

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liahaslosthermind · 17 days ago

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𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞! [PT 2]

Summary: The Inner Circle is still oblivious to Azriel and his mate’s bond. Will the couple’s agreement to forgo secrecy open their eyes? Or will they just remain obtuse? Read Part 1! Work Count: 4.5k+ Warnings: Very suggestive, Timeline? What timeline?, Inner Circle are idiots, Historiography, I put too much detail into things that probably didn’t need it but oh well. A/N: I’ll be honest, writing this took so much out of me that I kind of hate it. Now the reader’s job has more to do with the plot, though it really was me just getting a little too into the historical study of a fictitious fantasy world. HISTORIOGRAPHY ROCKS. (If anyone finds the 30 Rock reference in here I’ll kiss you with tongue)

Her head pounded as she stared at the documents. After years immersed in the historical field- starting with historical study, then historiography- her work had become too… stagnant for her. She loved what she did, of course, but her job had become less about discovering great historical finds and more like gathering fractured accounts.

She was happy, she truly was, but being with Azriel these past few months made her greedy. She wanted more. Maybe it was the Spymaster rubbing off on her, but she was itching for something big, something that would shake her field.

The library had quieted around her. Hours ago it had buzzed with soft voices and rustling of robes. Now, it was still and deathly quiet, with the priestesses away at evening service. The hours had slipped away unnoticed.

She sighed as she closed the 3 books scattered in front of her. She’d sworn to Azriel that she would leave before the priestesses even left for last service. Though the shadows circling her seemed content to let her stay, she knew better than to test her mate’s patience.

Just as she began to rise, she heard the familiar rhythm of Azriel’s footsteps.

“Yes, I know Az,” she called before even looking back at him. “Don’t worry, I am pissed at myself too. Didn’t even get to the work I had wanted done today,” she groaned as he entered the reading nook she had settled herself into early that morning.

He laughed quietly as he brought his hands to cradle her face, brushing his thumbs along her cheekbones as he kissed her forehead. He laughed a little harder when she whined before finally kissing her on the lips.

Footsteps echoed nearby. She pulled back quickly, but Azriel only grinned before tugging her back in. His arms locked around her waist as he kissed her, reminding his mate of their agreement: no more hiding.

As the sounds of the priestesses’ footsteps disappeared, along with a few shocked gasps and giggles, the two of them broke apart. She looked at him in confusion.

“We made a deal, did we not?” He asked.

“Yes, but that was only in front of your family-”

“And what do you think will happen when a few priestesses stumble upon us like this? While their gossiping is mostly harmless, it is rampant. I’d kind of like to see how quickly it makes it to Nesta, and whether or not she tries to say anything.” Azriel reasoned.

She narrowed her eyes at her mate but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. The library might be sacred, but it was also a pressure cooker of whispered scandal. One that no one escaped unscathed.

As the two walked back out of the library, Clotho beckoned the two to her desk.

At least have the decency to pretend you are trying to hide any dalliances in the library. Her pen scribbled.

Azriel’s face lit up in amusement, while his mate’s was cast in embarrassment. As the latter began to apologize profusely, Clotho waved her hand in dismissal before her pen began to write again.

The priestesses needed something new to discuss, many find comfort in silly gossip. By dinner they will be making lists of baby names.

The couple blushed a deep crimson at that. Azriel inclined his head in a silent goodbye, taking his mate’s hand and squeezing it tightly before the two walked back to the House of Wind proper.

The sitting room in the House of Wind was light and buzzing, alive with laughter and heated by the well fed hearth.

Like the rest of the room’s occupants, the Night Court’s historiographer and her Spymaster mate were drunk.

Neither were big drinkers typically. Azriel claimed growing up alongside Rhysand and Cassian had meant he had consumed more alcohol before the age of 200 than most fae did in a lifetime. These days, he preferred to keep his wits about him more often than the rest of his family. His mate shared similar sentiments, only getting drunk for special occasions.

But tonight had in fact been a special occasion.

Mor had returned from a month-long stint in Hewn City. While Rhysand typically never encouraged her to stay more than a few days at a time, the two had recently launched quite the campaign to uproot the rot embedded in the Court of Nightmares, a feat that warranted longer and longer visits each time. When she’d come home that very afternoon, the exhaustion and haunted look etched into her face had worried her family.

What had begun as “just a nightcap” had quickly spiraled into a full-blown celebration.

After several bottles of expensive wine and a few decanters of something suspiciously strong and equally as vile tasting, the entire Inner Circle was comfortably drunk.

Azriel’s mate had curled into the corner of one of the plush couches with a wine glass in hand, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, the room spinning at borderline nauseating speeds. Next to her, Azriel slouched lower than anyone had ever seen him, his normally rigid frame nonexistent as he melted into the cushions. He was dressed in loose linen pants and a button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, an elegant but far more relaxed departure from his usual Illyrian leathers. Even his shadows seemed drowsy, coiling like cats around his ankles

“She then told him to fuck off,” Cassian howled, halfway through a story that had been going on for far too long, “after he complimented her speech!”

Azriel’s mate snorted into her drink, too inebriated to be embarrassed, “He sounded surprised that a speech on the importance of historiographical methodology could be interesting,” she protested. “It was rude of him to think otherwise!”

Azriel’s low laugh warmed her insides, “Always the peacekeeper,” he murmured, teasing.

“Oh please, you know you love it,” she shot back, nudging his shoulder with her own.

Mor raised an eyebrow at the interaction. “Az, is that a blush on your face?”

“How drunk are you, Azriel?” Feyre added, her tone steeped in amusement.

Azriel swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he drawled, “Somewhere between a lot and very.”

Everyone chuckled, but their eyes soon zeroed in on the look he gave the female tucked against his side. The way their hands brushed one another, the way Azriel leaned in every time she laughed, closing his eyes as if to savor the sound, even the way his shadows curled protectively around them both.

Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically at the pair, “Mother above, the tension between you two makes me sexually frustrated.” He groaned

Azriel didn’t flinch. Based on the absolute torture he’d endured every night in his bedroom in the House of Wind, unable to sleep because of the noises Cassian and Nesta had been making, he knew that to be a lie, so the Shadowsinger didn’t dignify his brother’s words with a response.

“Not everyone has to be as vocal about their feelings as you are, Cassian. Don’t force Azriel to be what he is not.” Nesta said coolly.

Azriel gave her a look of mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m very vocal about my feelings. It’s not my fault you’re all too dense to notice.”

His mate dissolved into a fit of giggles she tried to hide with her wine glass, only to end up amplifying the noise with the action. “Oh yes Azriel,” she gasped, “you are so vocal about your feelings, especially last night: ‘Oh Gods, fuck, your mouth feels so good on my-”

A scarred hand clamped over her mouth with lighting speed.

Azriel looked mortified- for all of two seconds- before both of them collapsed into wheezing giggles on the couch.

Soon the laughs were the only sound that could be heard in the room as the rest of the Inner Circle fell into shocked silence.

Mor blinked, “Did she just-”

“Oh she definitely just-” Feyre whispered.

“Are you two…” Rhysand began, also unable to finish his sentence.

“Inside joke.” Azriel said halfheartedly. The pair agreed they wouldn’t outright say anything, nor outright deny their relationship, but they hadn’t actually been asked a question.

His mate nodded, face beet red but grinning wickedly, “Very inside.”

The two descended into wheezing laughter once more, the rest of the room soon joining in, albeit confused.

Amren was the only one who didn’t laugh, watching the pair carefully over the rim of her glass.

While the conversation attempted to pick back up, nothing stuck. The rest of the Inner Circle watched the secretly mated pair, hovering around the edges of realization, circling it like buzzards but never quite landing on the truth.

Through it all, Azriel’s shadows curled protectively around him and his mate as their bond remained hidden in plain sight.

The next morning Cassian groaned as he unceremoniously dropped into the chair across from Rhysand in the High Lord’s home office, rubbing his temples and whining with the drama of a dying male.

“Whatever was in those decanters tasted like regret and death,” Cassian muttered.

Rhysand, who looked only marginally more functional, snorted without lifting his gaze from the reports in front of him. “And yet you drank 5 whole glasses.” he replied dryly.

“I was recouperating from a day of torture,” Cassian justified, “Nyx has been weaponizing flowers, spreading their poisen throughout my own home. I am not safe anywhere thanks to that child.”

Footsteps sounded down the hall, halting the two’s conversation. Azriel had traded in his relaxed attire from the night before for his usual leathers. While his High Lord and general looked like they felt everybit of the alcohol they consumed last night, Azriel remained composed and unbothered, every inch the formidable Spymaster.

“Its not fair he gets to look like that.” Cassian groaned.

Azriel raided an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Good morning to you as well, Cas.”

Rhysand finally glanced up, a curious expression on his face. “You’re up early. I didn’t think I’d see you till tonight when I found these reports on my desk. I figured you’d be occupied nursing a hangover.”

“I had things to take care of.” Azriel responded.

Both Cassian and Rhysand perked up.

“Like what?” Cassian asked with the subtlety of a battering ram.

“Moving out.” Azriel glanced between them, trying to read their expressions. When the two didn’t say anything, Azriel gave in, “I bought a house.”

Rhysand dropped the reports he had been shuffling in his hands. “You… what?”

Azriel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “It's on the outskirts of Velaris… quiet, private, beautiful views.”

Cassian sat up straighter. “Wait- you bought a house? You don’t even like decorating your own room.”

Azriel gave him a look. “I like silence, and hate paper-thin walls.”

“This is slander,” Cassian said turning to Rhys in defense, “Nesta and I have been extremely respectful-”

“You cracked the plaster above my bed.”

Rhysand snorted.

Cassian gaped. “So you dropped a fortune to move out just because of us?”

“I also value my own space, and privacy.” Azriel’s tone was mild, but firm. He was starting to get irritated at the endless questions.

“You are barely home as it is,” Rhys said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s the point of buying an entire house, unless…” he trailed off, eyes sharpening. A beat passed, then another. Rhysand’s eyes flicked towards Azriel’s face. He tried to read his Spymaster’s microexpressions as he had done for centuries.

“You’re not living alone,” he finished. Not a question.

So Azriel didn’t answer.

Cassian and Rhysand looked at each other, then back at Azriel. Cassian’s face lit up when he realized exactly who his brother’s new “roommate” was.

“So that's where all the ‘inside jokes’ came from, why you two were so comfortable last night.” The general reasoned. Azriel had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. They were so close and yet so far.

The High Lord’s face became ashen as he looked at his brother, as if realizing all too late that something had shifted beneath his feet without him even noticing.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He asked, not hiding the hurt from his tone.

Azriel didn’t miss a beat, “You don’t listen.”

This time, the silence was deafening.

As the tension became a bit too unbearable, Azriel coolly shrugged his shoulders, “You may all come by in about two months. Give us time to finish some things.”

“Are you hosting a housewarming party, Azriel?” Rhysand asked incredulously, choosing to push the lingering sting of Azriel’s silence down.

“Something like that.” Az responded.

She had been working all night on her research paper. Originally, it had been pretty straightforward as far as these things went, that was until she stumbled upon two drastically different accounts of the same battle documented by two soldiers on the same side, not far from the other on the front lines.

And yet every modern interpretation she could find blindly aligned with one or the other. No one questioned the contradiction. Not historians, not theorists, nor any other scholars who had lended their two cents.

Sighing, she realized she wasn’t going to finish the project anytime soon, though she had to admit the thrill of such a discovery had brought enough motivation to continue working until dawn. Azriel, her mate of many months now, was away on a mission and wasn’t due back until dinner the next day anyway.

I should probably ask Rhysand about this, she thought. But it was late and while he most likely would have been up at this time a year ago, Nyx had ruled the High Lord and Lady’s schedules, constantly requiring all their attention just to make sure he hadn’t shifted into the form of a beast or rearranged Velaris’ stars… again. Though they loved their prince, the Dreamers of the Night Court hadn’t appreciated the impromptu redecorating of their beloved skies.

She also simply didn’t want to see Rhysand, still bitter about how he treated Azriel at family dinner those few months before when the Shadowsinger had tried to tell his family about his mating bond.

So instead, the Night Court’s beloved historiographer called someone else.

While late night calls weren’t usually welcomed from the ancient fae female, nor were any calls at any time of day for that matter, Amren was rather thankful for the chance to leave the River House. Ever since Nyx had crowned his Aunt Amren as his favorite person ever, she had been borderline imprisoned at Rhysand and Feyre’s home just so they could get a few hours of work done, or (and this was far more vital for the sake of their court) shower.

Still, in typical Amren fashion, she couldn’t let her gratitude be known.

“You called me away from a glass of very old and very, very expensive wine while I watched the latest episode of The Toddler Tyrant.” Amren teased.

“Nyx sprouted daisies again?”

“Out of Cassian’s ears this time,” Amren answered, breezing past her into the study. Cassian’s suffering at the hands of a toddler had been entertaining at first, but after a while his torment went from hilarious to pathetic.

The historiographer gestured to the scrolls spread across her desk, “These are accounts of the same battle, the same side, same front, yet completely different outcomes. And yet every major historical interpretation aligns with one or the other, like no one bothered to question the discrepancies.”

Though she displayed disinterest, Amren slinked closer to the papers. “That’s war, girl. No one remembers it the same way. Memory makes fools of us all.”

“Except these accounts were written during the war. Not years later. They were created mere hours after the battle in question. The first account claimed the general abandoned his troops, choosing to flee like a coward. The second swore he died protecting them. Both can’t be true.”

“Both could certainly be true, or rather, true to the writers. Maybe what one saw as a cowardly flee from the battle, the other saw end in a valiant death. Personal bias that led both to arriving at their own differing yet truthful conclusions.”

The more she thought about it, the more Amren’s words rang true. While this was a huge oversight in the historical field, it did lend itself to the widespread pattern of historical memory corrupted by the silent biases of the narratives they choose to listen to. “Everyone’s so caught up in what they want to see, they can’t recognize truth, even when it’s parading around in plain sight.”

Amren smirked, “History repeats itself.” Before she stalked off.

As she watched Amren leave, her words echoed in her head.

History repeats itself.

She thought of the different accounts of the battle again: two soldiers, one truth fractured into two. Everyone so caught up in their own perspective they were blind to what was marching right in front of them.

Just like them. Just like her and Azriel.

She looked down at the scattered scrolls on her desk and saw something else for the first time. Not confusion. Not contradictions. Just… love, interpreted differently by each witness.

She thought of the soldiers. One grieving, one bitter, both clinging to their own truths. Both were so sure they knew what happened.

Just like Cassian, swearing she and Azriel were dancing around their feelings.

Just like Nesta, insisting Azriel wasn’t the type to share what he felt.

Just like Rhysand, who couldn’t see beyond the brother he used to know.

She sat back down and wrote one sentence, one that would jump start her greatest project yet.

“We mustn’t only question the historical accounts we see, but our reasons for believing them.”

She dipped her quill in ink, turned to a fresh new page and wrote her new working title.

The Battle for Truth: Perception, Memory, and What We Choose to See

Azriel had been nonchalant about it.

When he and his mate arrived at dinner, he oh-so-casually mentioned the two were hosting a party at their home. A housewarming party, as his family had assumed it was, and a party to celebrate the historiographer’s finished project, one she hadn’t even let Azriel know the details of.

Not one of them had suspected a mating ceremony at the center of it.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the Sidra as the Inner Circle arrived at the couple’s home.

The house was nothing like they had expected. Elegant, but also warm in a way only a home that was truly lived in, truly cared for, could be. The group stopped their various conversations as they tried to take in every detail they could.

The first sign something was… different came when they made their way to the garden. Dozens of candles flickered to life, illuminating the stone walkway. Golden lanterns swayed gently in the trees. A long table stretched beneath the stars, draped in silver and blue linens and set with the finest of dishes. At the end of the garden stood an archway, draped in silk, glowing with candlelight, and unmistakably ceremonial.

"Are we… early?" Feyre asked, glancing around in search of the hosts.

Before anyone could answer, the sound of footsteps came from behind them. As they turned, the Inner Circle was met with a surprising sight.

Azriel caught their attention first, dressed in an elegant navy suit softened by silver detailing. No armour, nor shadows to be seen, just… Azriel.

But it was the female next to him that stole their breath.

She stood beside him in a gown of lighter blue, embroidered with constellations that seemed to shift when she moved. Her eyes scanned the space, looking at the faces of her family, and for a moment, her nerves were evident.

It was only then, when the two walked to the center of the garden and faced their friends, not hiding the ribbon that laced their hands together, deliberate and unmistakable, that realization struck.

“Oh-” Mor breathed.

“-my gods,” Cassian finished, slack-jawed.

Feyre blinked rapidly. “Wait. This is—?”

“You two are—?” Rhysand’s voice cracked mid-sentence.

“Mated,” Azriel confirmed, his voice clear and calm, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. “The priestess left just before you all arrived.”

There was a long pause, almost comically long, but long enough for the couple to start to sweat as they awaited further reactions.

Then Mor let out a loud, disbelieving sound and clutched her chest as if she had been physically wounded. “You traitors! You beautiful, deceiving traitors! How long have you both been…” she trailed off before finding her words, “When did the bond snap?”

The two turned to each other, smiling, before replying in unison, “A while ago.”

“Around half a year.” Azriel added.

Cassian’s head slowly turned from Azriel to his mate and back again. “Are you kidding me?” he said, scandalized. “How come none of us knew? How come I didn’t know? What kind of brother am I?”

“A dramatic one,” Amren deadpanned. “And apparently, an oblivious one.”

Feyre looked between them, mouth parted in shock. Then a slow, radiant smile bloomed on her face. “You’re mated,” she whispered to herself, trying to register the words. “You’re both actually mated.”

At that, Feyre launched herself at the couple, hugging Azriel’s mate first, then Azriel, her eyes glinting with tears. “I’m so happy for you,” she said, breathless. “You both look… I don’t know… lighter, happier.”

Nesta crossed her arms and raised a brow. “Well,” she said coolly, “that explains why the priestesses keep asking me questions about you two and giggling when I looked at them like they were crazy. They asked if you were pregnant last week. I thought they had been hexed.” Though her tone was cool and indifferent, her eyes betrayed her affection.

That earned laughter from the rest as the couple looked at each other with deep blushes on their faces.

It was only Rhysand had remained quiet, far too quiet, his violet eyes fixed on the two of them. And then, without a word, he walked forward.

Azriel’s body went rigid, ever so slightly. But his mate didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.

Rhysand stopped just short of them, looking between the pair.

“I missed it,” he said finally, voice low. “I pride myself on seeing everything, knowing everything, but I completely missed this.”

There was no accusation in his words, but something raw in his tone. No anger, nor judgment. Just the sad realization he hadn’t known his brother as much as he thought.

He looked at Azriel’s mate then, and whatever tension had been between them for the past few months softened. “I’m sorry,” Rhysand said. “To both of you. I was too busy thinking I knew everything that I missed what was right in front of me.”

Azriel’s mate gave him a gentle nod, filled with forgiveness and understanding.

There was a moment of anxious silence, till Amren smirked behind her wine glass and muttered, “Finally.”

The tension shattered.

Laughter rippled across the garden, followed by a chorus of overlapping questions, but Azriel only looked at his mate.

They had decided to do the ceremony part alone, just the two of them, a priestess, and Clotho acting as witness, under the promise she was allowed to give any and all details to the other priestesses to gossip over.

But the celebration was for their family who had, however obliviously, been with them for their entire relationship.

That night, the Inner Circle celebrated under lantern light. The house echoed with laughter, shadows trailing around the garden and dancing to the music.

When the guests had finally gone, after having to be forcibly kicked out, Azriel and his mate sat on the floor in their study.

She sat nervously next to her mate, looking down at their hands still bound together with ribbon. She had promised they would get to that part of the night after she showed him one last thing.

She turned to the coffee table and picked up a leather-bound book. The cover was a dark blue and as she turned to the first page, Azriel recognized her handwriting. She handed the book to her mate who took it in his free hand.

The page was opened to the dedication, written in her neat script, reading:

To the ones who taught me that truth is rarely singular, that memory can be messy, and love, like the historical work I dedicate my life to, can often be found hidden in plain sight.

To Azriel, who saw the truest version of me and waited until I was ready to see her too.

Azriel stared down at the page, tears lining his eyes. His shadows brushed the edges of the paper, like they too were reading it.

“It’s not about us,” she quickly murmured, “not technically. It’s about conflicting battle accounts, probably less exciting but-”

She tried to swallow down her nerves, looking to their joined hands for strength.

“But it’s always been about us, in a way. About how people miss things that are right in front of them, because they’re too busy holding onto the story they think they already know. That’s what those accounts taught me. Two people, on the same side, in the same moment, seeing two completely different truths. They can both be wrong and right. Just like some others we know.” She teased.

Azriel leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You’re brilliant,” he whispered against her skin. “And I love you.”

“I know,” she whispered back, angling her head till her lips were just a breath away from his, “but you should say it again.”

“I love you.” He answered before kissing her deeply.

While the bond between them hummed, everything around them grew silent and still, like the shadows and stars themselves had stopped to listen.

Taglist: @happyxdayxbitch, @kksbookstuff, @firefly-forest-blog, @marigold-morelli, @yourenothingbutnottome, @triangleshapewinner, @honk4emoboyz, @i-am-infinite, @dreaming-softly-in-the-night, @fuckingsimp4azriel,

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fluff #acotar fic #azriel acotar #inner circle x reader

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liahaslosthermind · 23 days ago

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I lied- I don't think I will have part 2 out tonight. I got REALLY into exploring the reader's job as a historiographer and somehow turned it into an actual plot point- I just really like history guys and I've been on summer break for a little less than two months I need this lol.

Anyway- part 2 tomorrow. I'm already over 1k words in and... its only been about the reader's research oops. Historiography is FASCINATING I promise :)

#lia speaks (it would be nice if she would shut up)

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liahaslosthermind · 23 days ago

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Hi Folks!

Thank you for all the love on About Damn Time! I am writing part 2 as we speak. I seriously can't believe how many people commented and said such sweet things, it makes me so happy to see!

I just wanted to quickly put the tag list down here as to make sure everyone who had asked gets tagged (If you would like to be added, or removed, just let me know!), I also added people who asked for a part two specifically (I hope that's okay with yall, again if you'd like to be removed or added, no problem!)

Again thank you all so much! I hope to have it out by tonight!

Taglist for About Damn Time! PT 2: @happyxdayxbitch, @kksbookstuff, @firefly-forest-blog, @marigold-morelli, @yourenothingbutnottome, @triangleshapewinner, @honk4emoboyz, @i-am-infinite,

#lia speaks (it would be nice if she would shut up)

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liahaslosthermind · 24 days ago

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🥹Tarquin oh my goodness!!

The fluff after all the angst was so wonderful! And I loved the relationship dynamic between the reader, Tarquin, Thesan, and his lover. Probably the most unproblematic group in Prythian if I’m being honest

Incredible story!

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

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

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

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

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And somehow, you were okay with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Do you need me—-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#lia’s recs #tarquin x reader #acotar x reader #tarquin #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar angst #rhysand angst

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liahaslosthermind · 24 days ago

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This is so cute omg! I need to start reading more Rowaelin!poly fics because I really love this dynamic!!

Amazing job!

Rowan Whitethorn X Aelin Galathynius X Reader

POV: You discover you’re pregnant with Rowan and Aelin as mates

Little bit of fluff with Rowaelin :) Warnings: Pregnancy, mentioning of feeling sick

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Rowan is the first to notice your scent change one morning when you're all laid in bed together. You are snoozing between him and Aelin, and he feels the slight change in you, usually, you smell of fresh strawberries with hints of lime and berries, but now there is a new scent intertwining with your own. It's soft and new, like fresh cotton. He thinks nothing of it as he shifts in bed, rising earlier than you and Aelin after agreeing to a morning run with Aedion and Fenrys. He notices there is a new glow to you, and you seem to be in a deeper slumber than usual, but with him being short on time, he gives you both a light kiss and is out the door. Something nudging at the back of his mind but not quite registering what this meant.

You and Aelin rise a little later, deciding on a slow breakfast with both your schedules being clear for once. You're in the dining hall, Lysandra having just arrived as you stare at all the food laid out so beautifully. Aelin has the biggest sweet tooth you've ever known so mounds of pancakes fill the table, with jugs of chocolate syrup, blueberry muffins stacked in dishes, whilst a selection of the freshest fruits sit to your side. Lysandra moans into her bites of a muffin, unashamedly dipping into the chocolate sauce.

"I swear I only come here for the breakfasts," she says between bites, as Aelin laughs. "How rude you are Lysandra, surely we have more to offer than our delicacies," you giggle as you stare at the table. Usually, your appetite in the morning is as large as Aelins but this morning you can't shake a nauseous feeling creeping up on you. You try to pass it off but the swirling motion Lynsandra makes with the chocolate makes you feel more than green.

"Are you okay my love, you look a little pale?" Aelin frets over you as you shake your head, passing off the feeling and reaching for a glass of water. "I'm okay, please-"

"Well, this truly is the only reason to come here isn't it?" Aedion shouts as he barges into the dining hall, Rowan and Fenrys following behind.

"I mean look at all this food, and what is everyone else having Aelin?" Aedion teases his cousin, eyeing Aelin's 8 pancake stack.

"Har har Aedion, ruling a kingdom is tiresome work and builds up an appetite," Aelin says as she pats at her belly. "You might know about it if you stop stealing my mate for runs and rule that army of yours" Aelin tutts, throwing a berry his way. Aedion catches the berry in his mouth and grins, taking a seat next to Lysandra whilst stacking his own plate full.

Rowan gives Aelin a kiss on the lips before coming to sit next to you, noticing your pale complexion he pulls his chair a little closer. "You look green sweetheart, what's wrong?" Rowan asks quietly to not disrupt the rest of the table as Fenrys also begins to throw berries Aedions way.

You sip on your water giving Rowan a smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes. The smell of the food now sitting heavy in your stomach, maybe you just need some fresh air. Your hands feel clammy and Rowan takes a hand to your forehead, staring intently, almost trying to read your body to find the problem so he can fix it at once.

"I'm okay Ro, really I just feel a bit queasy. I'll be fine in a second. " You say as you take his hand guiding it to rest on your waist, his chair pulled close to yours. Rowan's hand grazes your stomach, his thumb stroking slowly and then he feels a slight swell and it dawns on him, his entire body goes stiff at once as everyone at the table seems to notice the interaction. You shift into Rowan, not realising his stiffness until you look up to see all the eyes on you both, and Aelin looking very worried. Aelin and Rowan have a silent conversation in their head, with Aelins eyes turning watery. You pale even further not understanding what is happening.

Aelin then turns to the three guests and says "I need some alone time with my mates, I'll see you all in the gardens shortly." as her gaze never leaves you. "Faes and their needs.." Lysandra mutters as everyone starts to leave and Aedion makes a quip about finishing his breakfast this time. Having it not been the first time Aelin has announced everyone should leave to have alone time with you and Rowan. But this was for an entirely different reason..

The water now long forgotten, you look between Aelin and Rowan as feel yourself get warm. If Aelin wanted you right now, it was terrible timing as you felt you may just vomit all over the beautiful breakfast. Aelin grabbed your hand as Rowan pulled you closer his hand now resting fully on your belly. "My love, you have no idea do you?" Aelin smiled, a small laugh parting her lips as tears welled in her eyes.

"What is going on, please tell me," You begged, confusion setting upon your own face as you looked to Rowan. Rowan simply smiled and looked down to the hand over your belly, and it began to click within you. “I thought your breasts looked bigger, I was beginning to get jealous.” Aelin clicked as her gaze fell to Rowans.

Your hand moved to rest on top of Rowans, you wasn’t sure he’d even let out a breath in the last 5 minutes. “A babe..” he whispered, his lips grazing your shoulder. It dawned on you then, you were pregnant.. Tears welled in your own eyes now as you looked down, imagining the invisible bump that would soon grow.

“Are you okay?” Aelin asked Rowan, understanding how big this was for all three of you but another layer of emotion sat with Rowan after the loss of his unborn child.

Rowan nodded his head and cleared his throat, the wave of emotions catching the usually stoic fae off guard. He pulled you into his lap and grabbed Aelins hand as you all slowly grinned at each other.

A new stage of your lives was about to begin, and you all couldn't wait.

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This has been sat in my drafts for awhile as I've been unsure to post, so hope you like this. I'm working on a lil smut with these two as well for Rowans birthday hehe

#go read go read!#lia’s recs #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galythinius x reader #tog x reader

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liahaslosthermind · 25 days ago

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𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞!

Azriel x Historiographer!reader Summary: Azriel and his mate tried to tell his family about their mating bond. Unfortunately, arsonist nephews, tired (and frankly, scared) generals with a single eyebrow, and stressed out parents made the task seemingly impossible. Warnings: Inner Circle is obtuse, Nyx is vengeful, Rhys is kinda an asshole A/N: Reader’s job has little to nothing to do with the story, I just hate using “y/n” so I come up with loopholes to address the reader without using it.

It had been 3 months since the Spy Master of the Night Court and Velaris’ Head Historiographer had stopped dancing around their feelings, 2 months since the mating bond had snapped between the two, and approximately 1 hour since they decided to tell their family.

“They will be excited for us, my love.” She cooed, trying to fix the perpetual frown that adorned her mate’s face. “They will be annoying of course, they always are,” she grumbled, “but they will be happy. And they will finally stop worrying about whether or not you are going to die alone.” She teased, combing through Azriel’s hair as she tried to push it back, a style he hated but she absolutely loved.

“I don’t see why we have to make it a thing.” Azriel replied, fixing his hair the second her hands left his head.

“A thing? You mean our mating bond? The one you prayed for every single day of your 500 year long life? You don’t want to make telling the most important people in your life into a thing?”

“I just thought… maybe a surprise mating ceremony would be better.”

“Azriel, how do you think that will play out? ‘Surprise, we are mates and this is our mating ceremony! But don’t make it a big deal, we don’t want it turning into a thing!’”

“Well, at the end of the ceremony we will disappear and go on vacation before they can say anything. That way they have time to cool down and we get to have a nice relaxing time together without their antics.” Azrel justified, or at least tried to.

The small smile that adored his lips while thinking about said vacation instantly dropped when she started laughing at him.

“And what do you think will happen when we get back? If they don’t manage to crash our honeymoon just to get answers, then there will certainly be hell to pay when we come home. And I promise, it will end up being a much bigger thing than if we just told them tonight at dinner.”

Azriel grumbled in response. She was right, of course, but it didn’t mean he looked forward to telling their family. He wasn’t ashamed of her, nor of the bond between them, how could he be? But Azriel never liked attention, it’s why his work was so perfect for him. But his family… they were nosy. They would make it a big deal and while, quite frankly, it was a big deal, Azriel wasn’t looking forward to the show.

Fortunately for him, the Inner Circle was also far too obtuse at times, though this time it wasn’t really their fault.

Feyre and Rhysand had recently discovered that Nyx could Winnow. This happened about a month prior when Feyre went to wake her son up from his nap and found his cradle to be empty. After 45 minutes of panicked searching alongside Rhys, Mor, Elain, Lucien, Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, and a few of the priestesses, Feyre found her son in the arms of Amren, who had discovered him in front of her apartment door an hour prior.

Baby Nyx loved his aunt Amren more than anyone else, much to the chagrin of his parents and the rest of their family.

In the past month, various wards had been implemented to stop the High Lord and Lady’s child from disappearing again, but they have also had to deal with the various other abilities that seemingly manifested since.

When Azriel and his mate finally made it to dinner, Cassian had one eyebrow and an already healing burn, Mor was missing a couple inches of hair that had seemingly been singed off, both Feyre and Rhys had eyebags like never before, and a very content Nyx was sat on the lap of a gloating Amren.

“I hope we didn’t miss all the fun!” the historiographer joked, hoping to lighten the tense mood in the dining room.

“Oh, you missed the show, but I’d be more than happy to recount the details for you.” Nesta spoke up, cackling when she looked at her one-eyebrowed mate who hadn’t stopped pouting since the incident.

As the two late comers sat down and started to eat, the tension in the room didn’t cease. In fact, it seemed to get worse every time Nesta broke out into giggles when looking at Mor and Cassian.

After far too many seconds of painful silence, Azriel received a kick on the leg from his mate. Looking at her, she hissed what he assumed to be a few “encouraging” words about him growing a pair.

After taking a deep breath, Azriel cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the entire table.

“We have been meaning to talk to you all about something. Now, I know things around here have been… rather tense. But hopefully this good news will-”

“One second-” The High Lord interrupted as a note appeared before him. Upon reading the missive, he groaned before passing it to Feyre, the letter eliciting the same reaction from her as well. “Madja got us in touch with a healer who specializes in High Fae child development. He says that this thing with Nyx is normal at this stage, especially with powerful parents, and that the powers displayed might not even stay. It's like the Mother is testing which abilities Nyx will have, and we haven’t even gotten to the worst of it yet.” Rhysand grumbled, his hand going through his uncharacteristically unruly hair.

“Well when the two most powerful fae in Prythian love each other very much…” Mor started.

“They curse the rest of their family by creating the most vengeful baby the world has ever seen.” Cassian hissed. After a kick on the shin from Feyre, and a smack on the chest from Nesta, he quickly added, “Not that we don’t love you Nyx. You are the light of all our lives and blah blah blah.” After an additional glare from Rhys, Cassian yelled: “He can’t even understand me! It's not like he knows what I am-” the general abruptly stopped talking when his salad caught on fire, causing the baby on Amren’s lap to start laughing.

After the Shadows made quick work out of putting out the fire, Azriel spoke up once more, “As I said, I know you all have a lot going on right now-”

“No kidding.” Nesta interrupted. “I keep having to fight the camp lords to allow my Valkyrie to compete in the Blood Rite and I swear every time I bring it up they find new ways to make our life harder.”

“I am sorry to hear that Nesta, but like Azriel said I think this news will-”

“The Illyrians are a backwards group that won’t respond to being asked to change their ways. I keep telling Rhysand he needs to be harder on them.” Azriel interrupted his mate. She would have been more upset had she not known how sore of a subject Illyrians and their beliefs were for her mate.

“Azriel, we have discussed this before. You are letting your hatred of them get in the way of logical thinking. They won’t respond to abrupt changes either, you need to let me do my job.” Rhysand argued.

Before Azriel could argue back, he felt a supportive squeeze on his hand from the female beside him, gently guiding him back on track. “Look, I am not here to discuss Illyria. If you all could just stay silent for a moment then-”

Fire seized Cassian’s shoulder, most likely in response to the lighthearted glares he had been sending his nephew. While the leathers protected his skin from the heat, a chunk of his long brown locks had not been as fortunate.

“Alright, clearly this isn’t working out for Nyx. It’s past his bedtime anyway, maybe we should call it quits.” Feyre spoke up, sending an apologetic look to Cassian.

“If you all would give me just a moment-” Azriel started.

“Look, it's been stressful around here for us, Az. I promise I will listen to whatever shit you need to complain or argue about another day.” Rhysand interrupted. While the silence that followed would have given Az the opportunity to correct his brother’s, rather rude, assumption, his mate stopped him before he could speak up.

“You know what, you’re right, tonight isn’t the night for any family discussions. We wouldn’t want to bother you all with our lives. Have a good night.” In the many years Rhysand had known the Head Historiographer of his court, and the many years since they had become friends- almost family, he had never heard her speak in such a tone. But before anyone else could get a word in, her and Azriel had disappeared into the shadows.

Back at her apartment, Azriel watched as his mate, seething in anger, paced in front of the fireplace.

“I cannot believe he really insinuated all you were trying to do was argue or complain when you specifically said it was good news! What a childish, egotistical, brat!”

“My love, he is going through a lot with Nyx right now-”

“That does NOT give him the right to talk to you like that! If he were to speak to Cassian that way, Nesta would have bitten his head off. I mean how many times had he lost it when Nesta and Feyre fought? Gods, I should have really laid it on him. It is totally unacceptable that he-” Her impassioned rant was suddenly cut off by an equally as passionate kiss.

Suddenly, she couldn’t have cared less about what the High Lord had to say. All that existed in that moment was her and her mate.

When the two separated, all negative emotions had been depleted, the only care being the golden string that attached one soul to the other.

“How about this,” Azriel spoke, still breathless from the kiss the two had shared, “We can make a game out of it. We tried telling them, how about now we just make it as obvious as possible without explicitly stating anything, and see how long it takes them to figure it out.” He suggested.

“And if they are truly too obtuse to catch on?” She asked.

“We can give them the time it takes to plan a proper mating ceremony. If by then they still haven’t figured it out, then we can go with my original plan. That way they can’t be upset because it would be their fault for not catching on, and we get to have fun.”

“A part of me kind of hopes they don’t catch on now.” She giggled.

“Oh, trust me, unless we spell it out for them, they won’t know a thing.” Azriel replied.

A/N: I have ideas for part two, but I also have 1,000 other ideas and projects half written, so let me know if you would like a sequel!

Edit: Read Part 2 here!

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar fluff #inner circle x reader #inner circle #azriel fluff

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liahaslosthermind · 1 month ago

Text

𝐀 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝐕𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Azriel x Summer Court Princess!reader

Summary: Azriel is forced to take a vacation periodically. It isn't his fault that he is allowed back at the Summer Court and Cassian isn't.

A/n: Haven't written in a few months so I am dipping my toes back in. Unsure how I feel abt this one. Also I usually don't give descriptions when it is an "x reader" but I made the reader Tarquin's cousin and she is described as having dark skin and stark white hair.

Warnings: Suggestive, Az pinches reader's ass once and vice versa, the Inner Circle is nosy (what else is new), Tarquin is soooo hot and sexy (not a warning I just thought it should be restated)

The Spy Master’s job was demanding. It required his mind and body to be focused, agile, adaptable, and strong. After centuries serving under two High Lords of Night, Azriel had seen and been through a lot. And sometimes, even the most trained of warriors simply couldn’t continue on without a break.

When Rhysand had first become High Lord, he suggested the idea to his shadowsinger.

“A simple break, every once in a while, just so I don’t have to worry that you are going to lose it and damn this court to Hel.” Rhysand had teased. He knew better than to doubt his brother’s ability to protect his court, but he did doubt Azriel’s ability to know when he had had enough, when it was in fact time for a well deserved break.

Azriel had sent a scathing look to his brother, mumbling something about not being in the mood for Rhysand’s nagging, before disappearing into his shadows.

Neither had given much thought to the idea, until a few years later.

Cassian had gotten drunk, belligerently so. Rhysand and Mor not far behind him. What had turned into an exciting trip to the Summer Court to strengthen political alliances had soon turned into a drunken revelry. Instead of tightening said relations, the Night Court’s General had gotten to drunk he had leveled an entire building, one far older than Amren herself. In the end, the alliance between Night and Summer was hanging by a thread, and Cassian had been banned from the court for the rest of his life.

Rhysand and Mor, upon hearing the news, had drunkenly promised Cassian that they would never return to Summer for any reason other than court politics so long as he was banned. While the rest of Azriel’s family pouted and begged him to join the pact, Azriel had realized the opportunity that presented itself at the end of the escapade.

Maybe he will take that vacation after all.

Many years later…

“Is Azriel joining us?” Nesta asked as she sat down, extremely late, for family dinner. Her mate, who can be blamed for the couple’s lateness, tried to nonchalantly adjust his clothing, as if the smell from the two of them alone wasn’t proof enough of what just exactly the two had been up to that had caused their late arrival.

“He is off in Summer for the next two weeks.” Rhysand replied, grimacing at the stench of sex coming from his sister-in-law and brother.

“He just returned from a mission! You are sending him on another right after?” Nesta pointed an accusatory finger at Rhys. “I haven’t seen him in almost a month, do you know how hard it is to deal with him,” she gestured to Cassian, “with no one to mock him with me?”

Cassian’s offended gasps were ignored by both his mate and brother. “He isn’t on a mission, Nesta. He is on vacation.” Rhysand answered. Nesta was always quick to accuse Rhysand of less-then-stellar decision making when it came to his family, but for once her claims were baseless.

Rhys’ answer just made Nesta laugh. “In what world would Azriel take a vacation? Much less to a place like the Summer Court.”

Cassian, still hurt by his mate’s previous comments, grumbled as he replied: “Rhys makes him take them periodically, and he goes to Summer just because he knows I am banned for life and gets a kick out of rubbing it in my face.”

That sounded more like the shadowsinger Nesta had grown to adore.

“It is not just you he is escaping from, Rhys and I are still not allowed because of that dumb pact.” Mor whined. She had justified her decision to join Cassian in his banishment from vacationing because she had thought it wouldn’t actually last for life… and because she had been so severely inebriated when she had made that promise. But 200 years later with not a single vacation to Summer since, Mor had grown to resent Cassian for his own banishment.

“If it makes you feel better, Cassian, Azriel probably isn’t doing more than staying in his room and reading. I don’t think he is one for the Summer sun.” Feyre spoke up as she tried to comfort the Illyrian.

Everyone seemed content with that answer, until two distinct laughs were heard from the end of the table.

“I think the boy is doing just fine in Summer.” Amren snickered as she glanced at Varian, who was trying to hide his laugh behind his napkin.

When neither of the two offered any more information, the High Lord spoke up.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Amren?”

“Did you see him before you left, Varian? I can’t imagine he was enjoying the sun on the beach.” Nesta asked.

Varian gave Amren a look, blaming her for the situation she put him in, before replying: “No, I can’t imagine he was having much fun in the sunshine. But the female who was shoving her tongue down his throat certainly was.”

There were about four seconds of silence at the table before the entire Inner Circle erupted in questions. While Amren rolled her eyes at their inquisitive eagerness, she too had been shocked and equally intrigued when Varian had told her of his findings last night. She had even gone to bed with a smile on her face, imagining the scenario in which she got to drop this bombshell on her family and then give no answers to their questions.

Seeing it in person, though, was so much better than she could have ever imagined.

Two weeks had passed by painfully slow for the Inner Circle as they awaited their Spy Master’s return. Since that fateful night, neither Varian nor Amren had been willing to share any more information.

When Azriel finally arrived home, having been warned ahead of time by Varian that his family would have more than a few questions for him, Az felt all of the time he spent relaxing disappear in an instant as his family threw question after question at him.

He let their interrogation go on for a few minutes before he started to get a headache from the noise. So much for those two weeks off.

Putting up a hand, Azriel let out a breath when they all instantly shut up.

He could go about this a few ways, but he knew what his preferred method was when it came to dealing with his friends and their need to know everything about his life, especially the things he wasn’t quite willing to share.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about. You shouldn’t believe anything that comes out of the mouth of those two. They just wanted to get you all riled up.” And with that, he disappeared into the shadows.

For the next few weeks, Azriel had skirted every attempt to bring up his vacation beyond giving “it was relaxing. Maybe I need a vacation away from you all more”, until the Inner Circle eventually gave up.

“With all of that said, I believe all of us would rather be anywhere else, no need to keep torturing ourselves.” Helion said as he effectively dismissed the meeting of the High Lords and Ladies.

As the Night Court got their bearings together, ready to winnow back to Velaris, Tarquin quickly stopped them.

While they had helped save Adriata in the war, Tarquin hadn’t yet been willing to forgive Rhysand and Feyre for betraying his friendship, no matter how noble their intentions, so the entire Inner Circle had been surprised to see the young High Lord trying to speak to them.

“Tarquin? What can we do for you?” Rhysand asked, hoping he could finally win over the Summer Court fae.

“Azriel, I have a letter for you. I had told her to send it herself, as playing messenger is not a part of my duties as High Lord, but she insisted she couldn’t trust it going through other networks.” The High Lord sighed as he handed the rather bulky letter to the shadowsinger, completely ignoring the rest of the court standing around them.

Though he schooled his face, there was the slightest hint of blush on Azriel’s cheeks as he took the letter into his hand. Not waiting around for the rest of his family, Az disappeared into the shadows after giving a quick nod of gratitude to Tarquin.

When the rest of the Inner Circle had gotten home, Azriel was nowhere to be seen.

Rhysand quickly scribbled a note, seemingly delivering it to wherever Az had gone off to. A quick reply came a second later.

I believe I am owed a few more days off. If you need me, don’t. - Azriel

“Oh come on! Is he seriously having Tarquin deliver letters from whatever fae female he is having an illicit affair with? Then disappearing to gods know where? Rhys, I got to know what the fuck is going on or I’ll lose my mind.” Cassian begged.

“We all know where he is, Cassian. And if I remember correctly, none of us can visit because of you.” Rhysand replied.

“That's not fair, Feyre can’t visit because of her own actions.” Cassian replied, pointing an accusatory finger at his High Lady.

“My actions were for the sake of the entirety of Prythian, you all got drunk and made stupid decisions. They are not comparable.” Feyre argued.

Amren, who had been silently enjoying the argument, snickered from her chair.

At once, everyone turned to the small female, a clever smile adorning all their faces.

Suddenly, Amren was no longer amused.

“You” Morrigan wielded the word like an accusation, “have grown close to Tarquin through your… romantic entanglement with Varian.” Amren growled at the phrase. “Any chance you could get Cassian unbanned?” Mor asked, hope laced in her tone.

It had been another High Lord who had banished the general. While Tarquin made it clear he wasn’t ready to be friends with the Night Court, she knew that he had enjoyed his time with them before and that he was all too forgiving.

But could she ever use her amicable relationship to sway Tarquin into lifting Cassian’s banishment all so her family could torture Azriel while he was enjoying his time spent with one of Summer’s very own princesses?

…

Turns out, Amren could very well do that.

While Tarquin had needed quite a bit of convincing, he had grown to like both Amren and Azriel through their visits to see their lovers in Summer. He didn’t know Cassian very well, and while Rhys and Feyre had deeply betrayed his trust, he couldn’t help longing for the friendship they almost had.

After a long meeting, where tensions were squashed and penance was paid, the Inner Circle brought up the matter that had plagued them for months.

Tarquin laughed at their anguish as they explained what little they knew of their brother’s rendezvous with a Summer Court female, or at least, as far as they knew, a female in the Summer Court.

They truly knew nothing.

“Come to dinner at my palace in Adriata tonight. I think you will enjoy the company you find there,” was all Tarquin offered before the Night Court took their leave.

Begrudged didn’t even begin to describe what Azriel was feeling when he walked over to the dining room where he knew his family was waiting impatiently for answers he had been keeping for over 200 years.

“You are such a baby.” The female at his side replied to his angry mumbling. “Gods forbid your family knows you are capable of love and happiness.” She teased.

“They are nosy. Forgive me for wanting to enjoy you in peace.” Azriel stopped, pulling her by the waist as he kissed her.

Acting against her true desires, she pulled away after a few seconds. “I think you have enjoyed me just fine, Az. And I think you will continue to do just that, but this time your family won’t be worrying about if you are lonely or not.” She replied, turning her head before he could distract her with a kiss on the mouth again. Unfortunately, she didn’t think about the fact the action just gave him better access to her neck.

“I will stop complaining.” He said, trailing kisses down her neck. “If I get to enjoy you just one more time before dinner.” Azriel hadn’t thought he could actually sway her into arriving late for dinner, that was until he heard a gasp come from her as he found her sweet spot.

The two did make it to dinner, just an hour later than they were supposed to and with their clothes and hair rather disheveled.

The quiet chatter had seized the moment they saw the couple enter the room. Rhysand and Tarquin grimaced at the smell coming from the two lovers as they tried (and failed) to act like nothing had happened.

Tarquin shot the fae at Azriel’s side a sharp look.

“It was his fault! He distracted me. And how can you blame me when he looks like this.” The female teased, gesturing to Az.

Tarquin sighed, “I would like to introduce you all to my sister.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister! It’s an honor to meet you, princess.” Feyre spoke up.

“I am actually his cousin from his mother’s side. I was raised alongside Tarquin, but I’ve got no royal blood in me, so no need for the formalities. I only force Azriel to address me as such when he has pissed me off. ” The female quipped, earning a pinch on her ass from Azriel in response.

As the late arrivals sat down, Nesta spoke up: “How long have you both been…?” she trailed off, unsure of what to label the relationship between the two.

“-fucking?” “-seeing each other?” The two replied at the same time, the Summer Court princess having a far more vulgar mouth than anyone had expected from the female.

“He has been in love with me for over 200 years. We have only been fucking for about 150. I made him work for it.” She grinned, this time pinching Azriel’s ass in response.

The Inner Circle looked around at each other, undeniably delighted by the princess in front of them.

“Wait, when exactly did this happen? Where were the rest of us?” Rhysand asked.

“You three,” Azriel gestured to Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor, “were far too drunk, and far too busy getting banned from this court, if I remember correctly.”

200 (ish) years before…

Rhysand, Mor, and Cassian had disappeared to gods knew where. They had been belligerently drunk and while Azriel, far more sober than the rest of his family, should have followed them, he knew they would be fine. Hopefully.

Plus, as much as he loved his family, he was not drunk enough to deal with their antics.

In the meantime, the Spy Master sat on the beach, looking up at the stars he knew all too well as he listened to the waves. He had been so entranced by the combination that he hadn’t heard someone come up behind him.

“You must be the famed shadowsinger of the Night Court.” A voice spoke up, causing Azriel to turn. The fae female was… ethereal. Dark skin beautifully framed by stark white hair, dressed in the softest of pink Summer style dresses, Azriel found himself at a loss for words.

Unfortunately, the words he did eventually find weren’t as smooth as he would have liked.

“How could you tell?” He asked earnestly. The female just stared at him, then his shadows, then the Illyrian leathers he was still wearing. As Azriel scanned the rest of the beach, he realized just how much he stuck out.

Okay so maybe he was extremely drunk.

“A lucky guess.” She teased, sitting next down to him.

From that moment, Azriel knew it was over for him. Not many had the bravery to approach the shadowshinger, much less tease him, then choose to sit down next to him.

They had spent the rest of the night talking, eventually watching the sunrise together. When Cassian, Rhys, and Mor, who were somehow still drunk, had informed him about Cassian’s banishment and their pact, all Azriel could think was that he couldn’t afford to lose what he had just found in the Summer Court.

Then he thought how easy it would be for him to visit her now with his family none the wiser.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed. How could he be when he had found a fae like her, but he liked to keep the few good things he had in his life close, even if it meant hiding it from his family for the time being.

From then on, Azriel wasn’t as upset about his “forced” vacations

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #inner circle x reader #acotar fic

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