#a court of thorns and roses fanfiction

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Never Yours

NEVER YOURS | Azriel x Female!Illyrian!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve known Azriel was your mate for a long time, but you never enlightened him to the fact. When you find him kissing someone else you decide to take a trip to the Illyrian war camps to take your mind off of the shadowsinger. But the thing about shadows – they always follow.

WARNINGS: Angst. Swearing, mentions of blood and injuries, reader doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions properly. Illyrian males are sexist and pieces of shit (not our batboys tho<3). Azriel is a mean but it’s kinda justified if you think about… 

WORDS: 5.4K

I’m thinking of writing a part two where everything is sorted out. Let me know if that’s something you guys would like :))

“He’s supposed to be my mate,” you whispered, voice cracking, echoing that of your heart.

“I know,” Mor murmured, one hand stroking through your hair, the other rubbing your back comfortingly, careful to avoid your wings. There was nothing else to be said.

A choked cry left your throat. You had thought that maybe, maybe Azriel had known. Maybe he looked at you and felt the connection – felt the bond that tied your souls together. You had thought that those long looks and small smirks he sent your way meant something more than friendship.

But when you’d walked in on him kissing Elain… it was like the world had stopped. They hadn’t even noticed you. Granted, you’d been in the room for a second and then rushed out as soon as your brain actually registered what you were seeing… But he had chosen someone else. You had waited too long to tell him, and now… now you had lost him.

“I have to go,” you hiccupped, rising out of Mor’s embrace. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you later.”

“Are you sure?” Mor asked, worry and concern visible on her face as she stood up as well. “You can stay here, if you’d like.”

You looked around at Mor’s apartment in Velaris, the one she stayed at when she needed time to herself. Everyone had their own home in the city, because while everyone loved the inner court dearly, sometimes everyone could get on each others’ nerves.

You shook your head at Mor’s offer. “No, thanks,” you mumbled. “I just… I just want to be alone right now.”

Mor pursed her lips but did not argue. She gave you a tight hug before you left, making you promise not to do anything stupid, and to get home safe. 

As you walked through Velaris, you could have sworn that the stars didn’t shine as bright, that the music wasn’t as loud, that the laughter was less frequent. It was as if your city knew the way your heart ached and ached, and was trying to reflect that. You hated the way it felt, the way your soul cried and wept, screaming at the Mother for giving you a mate that would not love you back.

You should have told him when you first realised. When he grabbed your hand to help him up after he’d bested you in training (a rare occurrence, as you were both pretty evenly matched and most duels ended in a draw), and when it snapped into place for you. You’d looked into his hazel eyes and felt like you were home, felt like all of your problems could melt away if you just got lost in them. You’d felt like a fool not realising, like the bond was always there, but now a veil had been lifted and you could see it clearly. Azriel hadn’t noticed anything, and so you pretended that you hadn’t, either. Because Elain had already arrived, and you could tell that there was already something between them. And having the mating bond rejected – well, that wasn’t something you thought you’d survive.

You had only told Mor. The thought of telling anyone felt wrong if it wasn’t Azriel, but Mor was your dearest friend, and she had trusted you with her deepest secret, so you could trust her with yours. You insisted every day that you should tell him, always nagging and never relenting, but you couldn’t. Not when he got closer to Elain and you could see the way his eyes lit up whenever she entered the room, the way his shadows would fade away when she came near.

You needed to get away. You’d have to see either one of them tomorrow, one way or another. If you stayed at the River House then you were bound to see Elain, and if you stayed at the House of Wind, then you’d definitely see Azriel. You both lived there, after all, and he was in every hallway you turned down, every room you walked into. You couldn’t bear seeing either one of them, not for a while. You had to leave.

You flew straight to the River House with a plan forming in your mind and entered without knocking, stalking straight to Rhys’s office. He was sitting at his desk, a pen in his hand, and his head raised as you entered.

“You know, most people would knock–” he started, but you interrupted.

“Send me on a mission.”

Rhys looked taken aback. “What?”

“Send me on a mission,” you repeated. Rhys looked at you questioningly, and talons delicately scraped down your mental shields in a silent request. Always a request, never a demand from him, but you shook your head and made sure your mental defences were as strong as possible. “Stop prying.”

It wasn’t a nice thing to say – Rhys only wanted to help you. You’d known him for over five hundred years, and you knew that while, yes, he and the other two Illyrians were huge busybodies, if you had something going on, he wouldn’t ‘pry’. He’d try to help in any way possible.

Rhys could clearly sense your bad mood. You weren’t exactly hiding it. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“If I wanted to talk about it, then I would have come in here and started talking about it,” you retorted.

Rhys’s lips pursed. “Is this about Azriel?”

You scowled and snapped, “That’s none of your business.”

“You know, I’m sure if you just spoke to him–”

“It doesn’t matter,” you spat. “Either you send me on a mission, or I’m taking my vacation leave.”

Rhys sighed, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. Sending you away would only fuel your unhealthy coping mechanisms, but forcing you to stay… well, he didn’t want to hurt you like that.

“Fine,” he relented. “There’s an Illyrian War camp that needs… overseeing. They say they’re training the females, but every time I receive information from… other… sources, they say otherwise.”

You wondered if this ‘other’ source was the shadowsinger that you were currently trying not to think about.

“So you want me to get them to train the females properly?” you asked, and Rhys nodded.

That would get you maybe two or three days away from Velaris, possibly four or five if you played your cards right. Maybe by then you would have calmed down and been able to come up with a plan as to where to go from there. How to survive the crushing of your heart; of your soul.

“I’ll leave tonight,” you decided, but Rhys levelled you with a hard stare.

“Y/n, it’s already late,” he scolded. “Just wait until morning. You need rest.”

You were tempted to retort, tempted to tell him that you weren’t a baby and could take care of yourself… but he was right. You needed your strength for the Illyrian camps. The males tended not to take nicely to female warriors, and seeing as you had escaped the clippings in your childhood, they’d more than likely strike if you were tired.

“Fine,” you muttered, relenting only because it was logical.

Rhys studied you, his eyes watching you closely. Even though he generally relied on being able to look into someone’s mind to discern their thoughts, Rhys was pretty good at reading people and their body language. It was part of being a soldier, being a leader.

“You know, anything said here will stay between us,” he murmured.

For some reason, you had a feeling that he knew. Maybe you hadn’t been careful enough at hiding it in your mind, burying it beneath thoughts of your duties and upcoming birthdays and celebrations and whatever else you could come up with to hide it all.

But you didn’t want to talk about it. That was why you were here, after all – you were running from… everything.

“Thanks,” you uttered before leaving.

You could have sworn you heard Rhys sigh as you closed his office door.

With the luck of the Mother or Fate, Azriel wasn’t at the House of Wind when you arrived that night, nor was he present when you left the next morning at dawn.

The flight to the Illyrian mountains was a long one. You could have easily winnowed to the Illyrian camps, but you wanted to drag this trip out as long as possible. Besides, flying meant planning time, and planning meant that you’d be able to tackle this situation at the war camp more efficiently.

You arrived at the camp just before sundown, touching on the ground in front of the camp warlord and eight of his shoulders. Rhys had told them beforehand that you were coming, but they were obviously infuriated that a girl was going to tell them what to do.

“Devlon,” you greeted.

The warlord had his arms crossed and a frown on his face, causing a small grin to tug at your mouth. Whenever you came to one of the war camps, usually one of the bat-boys would accompany you to make sure they didn’t miss out on you burning it to the ground if you decided to. But now that they were training the females, you’d felt less inclined to do so, even if only slightly.

“So, the High Lord decided to send you to make sure we’re completing our duties,” he sneered.

You raised your chin slightly, the smug grin on your face growing a little bit. “Indeed he did.”

You looked around at the fighting rings, seeing (as you had been expecting) only men fighting and training. The wind pushed against them and they pushed back just as hard, swords clashing against each other, steel shining in the light of the setting sun, dimmed only by the clouds passing overhead.

“We do not need you to oversee us,” one of his men said, stepping forward and flashing his teeth at you.

It was a threat, the way he stood and the way he spoke to you. You could tell he was itching for a fight, and, luckily for him, you were, too.

“You clearly do,” you chided. “I don’t see any females in the rings.”

“Why don’t you get in there, then?” he snapped, rage practically wafting off of him. “Why don’t we see if you’ve really got what it takes, huh?”

You smirked to yourself, pleased with the way this was going. You’d been training and fighting for over five centuries with the best warriors Prythian and the lands beyond had ever seen. This male here was either unaware or too arrogant to realise he would not leave the ring a winner.

“Alright,” you agreed. “Weapons, or fists?”

“Fists,” the male growled.

You walked with him to the ring, eyeing the males who stopped what they were doing to watch. You peered over the edge and down into the valley below, the sheer drop making you want to snap your wings out just in case.

“If, and when, I win this fight,” you began, “you will begin to train the females following the schedule that your High Lord gave to you.”

The male before you grunted, his eyes full of rage. “And when I win, I will send you back to the High Lord in pieces,” he spat.

You simply rolled your eyes, enraging the male even more. Devlon stood outside the ring, his arms crossed and eyes watching you. Was it childish, this behaviour? Accepting a challenge from an Illyrian brute? Absolutely, it was. But you didn’t care. You had to do something to take the edge off, to make you forget the way Elain’s hand rested on your mate’s chest as she kissed him, the way your mate’s hand settled on her waist.

“You know the rules,” Devlon commanded. “No weapons, just your bodies and your wits.”

You grinned at the male, and before you knew it, the fight began. The two of you circled each other slowly, carefully, trying to gauge the other’s weakness. This one, he favoured his left side, which would be useful for you to know for when you were ready to end this. But for now? You just wanted a fight.

The male lunged at you while your back was at the ledge, just as you’d expected him to. He was hoping for a clean win, shoving you into the valley below, but you knew when he was going to strike. The slight shift in his weight as he leaned back told you that he was about to pounce and you side stepped easily, watching as the warrior turned back around in an instant.

This Illyrian was big, as most were, but you’d been fighting against a bunch of big idiots (namely Cassian, Rhysand, and the other one you didn’t want to think about), so you knew how to use your speed, and how to use their own strength against them. 

He lunged again, and this time you came to meet him. You blocked his attack and threw a punch, but he dodged it and grabbed your arm, flipping you onto your back. After a quick manoeuvre you had his legs trapped within yours and you pushed, dragging him to the floor. All of this happened within the span of seconds, and then the two of you were back in defensive positions, circling each other once again. As the sun sank beyond the horizon, fires were lit. You could see the flames’ light washing over your opponent, painting him orange and gold.

This time, you took the offence, throwing punches and kicks his way, fierce and unrelenting. He blocked all of your attacks before you feinted left and struck right. You hit his side as hard as you could, before punching him square in the nose.

You felt no little amount of glee as you heard and felt his nose crunch under the force of your hit. Blood gushed down his face and onto his training leathers and you danced back, prompting him to try to land a hit on you. His eyes were filled with a fiery wrath at being bested, and by a female at that. That was why he had challenged you in the first place – he didn’t believe that a female could beat him, let alone hold her own against him. And here you were, proving him wrong.

You could end it. Right now, you could end this fight, have this male’s face in the mud and the girls training. But you wanted to prolong this, wanted to feel every hit he struck, feel everything before you tired him out.

So you continued the fight, and you even allowed him to get a few good hits in. He got your jaw at one point and you felt your lip split – and yet you continued. You were going to be covered in bruises tomorrow, but it wouldn’t matter. No one in this camp would challenge you again, and you’d be able to lose yourself in the battle.

As the fight wore on, you began to notice the shadows flickering in the darkness. You tried to convince yourself that it was just the fire, the wind and flames messing with your mind, but… you felt him. You felt Azriel in those shadows, watching and waiting.

Unfortunately, while you were concentrating on those shadows, your attacks became sloppy. You struck at the male with your fist and had to hold back a wince as he hit your wrist and got you in the stomach, partially knocking the air out of you.

Voices arose after the blow, and the male turned his head to the crowd which contained males and females alike. But what captured everyone’s attention was the shadowsinger standing at the edge of the ring, fists and jaw clenched and looking like he was planning all the ways he could rip this male’s skin from his body. Shadows curled around him, whispering in his ear and sliding over his wings and body.

Azriel’s hazel eyes slid to yours and you looked away, and back to the male. You should end this. Your lip was still bleeding, as well as a cut on your eyebrow. Your wrist was most definitely sprained, and you were sure you had at least a few bruised, if not broken ribs.

But you wanted to continue. You weren’t done yet, especially not with him here, knowing that you flew all the way out here just to get into a boxing match. It wasn’t fair that he was here, that he was ruining this. It wasn’t fair that he distracted you with his shadows, it wasn’t fair that he distracted you with his mere presence. It wasn’t fair that he kissed Elain even though he was your mate, even though you’d loved him in secret for at least twenty of her lifetimes. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair.

But… you knew you had to end it. If it went on any longer, you’d only tire yourself out and give the male more of a chance at winning. So you sighed deeply before pelting him with attacks, not giving him a moment to recover. You secured your hands on his shoulders before hoisting your body up and around, wrapping your thighs around his neck and pulling him to the ground. You squeezed your legs tightly, cutting off the airflow to his lungs. He flailed about a bit, trying to escape, and a few seconds before he lost consciousness, he tapped your leg three times, encouraging you to let go and stand up.

“Well, that was fun,” you exhaled. “Let’s not do it again anytime soon.” You turned your gaze to Devlon, his eyes shining with hatred. “The girls start their proper training tomorrow. I’ll be overseeing it, watching what you teach them and how you teach them. Understood?”

Devlon just grunted and left, his gang of males following him. You turned to the house that used to be Rhys’s mother’s and stalked towards it, sensing Azriel follow behind. You were furious that he was here – you’d come to the Illyrian war camps to escape him, and yet he’d followed you here. Had Rhys told him that you’d be here? Had Rhys sent him after you to make sure you didn’t fail? Or had your high lord sent him because he knew that Azriel was the source of your whirlwind of emotions?

The thoughts swirled around your mind as you opened the door. You were tempted to shut it in Azriel’s face, to force him to find somewhere else to sleep, but… he hated these war camps as much as you did. This house, it was a sort of refuge here, somewhere the two of you could feel safe out in Illyria. It was the essence of Rhys’s mother that gave you comfort, you knew. The woman who was more of a mother to you than your own was, the woman who protected your wings and made sure her son and his friends trained you in self defence. The woman who took you, Cass, an Az in, who gave them a home.

So you left the door open for him to follow, and he entered the home. It was just as you had left it the last time you were here; the hallway to the bedrooms that no longer smelled like Rhys’s mother; the small table next to the even smaller kitchen; the dishes that were clean thanks to the shadowsinger behind you, because the rest of you hated cleaning up.

You opened some of the cupboards, looking for the first aid kit. You found it shoved behind a mace and grabbed it, placing it on the table and opening it. You looked inside for the mirror but found it missing, and you sighed through your nose. Cleaning up your lip and eyebrow was going to be difficult now, but you’d figure it out. 

You sat on one of the wooden chairs and assessed your injuries. Split lip and eyebrow – those would need cleaning and bandaids. You assumed you wouldn’t need stitches as it didn’t feel deep, nor did it sting in the way it would if you did require stitches. Your knuckles were split, and your wrist was sprained. Those would require bandages, which you luckily had lots of. There wasn’t much you could do about the ribs – maybe you could get Madja to do a look over once you returned to Velaris.

“Why are you here?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You’d almost forgotten he was here – almost, only because you could feel the string that tied you together. In a crowded street you’d be able to find him, you knew it. If you tugged on it (which you’d never done) you knew he’d be able to find you, too.

“Rhys sent me on a mission,” you replied nonchalantly.

While you had come here to escape him, it didn’t mean you had to be rude and ignore him, but you could speak as little as necessary. Azriel stayed silent and watched as you struggled to clean your wounds. He sighed and walked over, kneeling between your legs and taking the cloth from your hand, dabbing at your eyebrow. You tensed under his touch and he raised an eyebrow, pausing his actions. He’d done this too many times to count – patching you up after a fight. You all helped each other after a battle with whatever was needed, but this time, it felt… different.

“Why did you follow me?” you asked.

“Why did you start a fight?” he responded.

You glowered at him and a small smile lifted the corner of his lips. He continued to wipe the blood away, and you two sat in silence as he worked. He pulled a bandaid out of the kit and with featherlight fingers, pressed it to the cut on your head. He smoothed it out gently, and the sting was barely noticeable.

“Are you going to answer my question?” he asked, grabbing the cloth again and rinsing it before moving it to your lip.

“Are you going to answer mine?” you retorted.

Azriel chuckled lightly and placed the cloth against your mouth. You hissed as it stung, and the shadowsinger pulled back with a murmured apology. He returned to his task, dabbing lightly and carefully wiping away blood. With his hands practically on your mouth, you could barely think. All you could feel was the cloth on your bottom lip, your mouth separated from the pads of his fingers only by the material.

“You weren’t in the house,” Azriel finally answered as he moved away from your lip and rummaged around the kit for a bandage. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving, so I asked Rhys where you were.”

So Rhys did sell you out. You frowned at the thought, disgruntled by the fact that he sent Azriel after you. Noticing the look on your face, Azriel added, “It took a while for him to tell me, you know. He didn’t tell me what camp you were going to, so I found you myself.”

You scowled at him. “I can take care of myself, Azriel.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” he questioned, ignoring your statement and reaching for your hand to start the bandaging.

Your scowl deepened, and you pulled your arm away from his grasp. “You’re not my keeper, Azriel. I don’t need to tell you anything.”

Azriel eyed you for a moment, clearly seeing that something was bothering you, and trying to figure out what it was. You didn’t normally talk to him like this. Of course, he and the other two Illyrians could be overprotective mother-hens, and you would remind them that you were a warrior, just like them, but your words never had as much venom behind them as they did tonight.

“If this is about my confidence in you,” Azriel began, “I do believe you can carry out this mission on your own. I just…” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face as if he was considering his next words. “I just wanted to be here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You hate it here.”

“So do you,” he retorted. “And yet you asked Rhys to send you here.”

“I asked Rhys to send me on a mission, not here specifically,” you countered.

At the glint in Azriel’s eyes, you realised you’d been trapped.

“Why did you ask him to send you on a mission?” he queried.

You scoffed, “None of your business.”

You snatched the bandages from his beautiful, scarred hands and stood up. The shadowsinger rose to his feet as well, towering over you. You took a step to brush past him, intending on wrapping your wrist and hands in one of the bedrooms, when his wing snapped out, blocking your way. You glared at the male, and his eyes held concern.

“Are you avoiding me?” he questioned. 

“No,” you lied, trying to push past him again, only for his arm to stop you this time.

You took a deep breath in through your nose, staring daggers at Azriel. Azriel, who was supposed to be your mate, your other half. Azriel, who was looking down at you with pain in his eyes. Azriel, whose dreams you sometimes saw through the bond, the dreams of his past which pained you whenever you thought of it. Azriel, whose pain you could feel now, running down the bond as you tried to leave him behind.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Azriel reminded you. You opened your mouth, but he continued, “I answered yours, so you answer mine.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, suppressing a wince as your wrist moved wrong. It was starting to swell, and if you didn’t bandage it soon, the others would never let you hear the end of it. It would be, “you need to take care of your injuries, Y/n” and, “you know better than to leave a wound unattended.” You’d be driven mad, because they would never let it go.

“Why did you start a fight?’ Azriel asked again, quietly and gently.

You let out a breath. “Beating that male would assert my dominance, something that you males are always doing.”

Azriel frowned slightly, and you wanted nothing more than to smooth the wrinkles in his forehead away and assure him that everything was fine.

“You could have ended the fight the second you entered the ring,” he stated. “Why didn’t you?”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. You couldn’t tell him. He wanted Elain; sweet, beautiful Elain who could be the perfect wife. Elain, who was soft and gentle, Elain who liked to bake and garden. Elain, whose skin was porcelain and unmarred, whose hands were calloused by tending to her garden. Elain, the woman who spoke eloquently and politely, who was able to get him to smile so easily with simply her presence. Elain, the one who made his shadows disappear entirely.

Not you, the Illyrian female whose hands were calloused by weapons and centuries of training. Not you, the female whose physical scars reflected those of her inner scars. Not you, the female who was rough and sharp, with jagged and brittle edges, the female who had been shaped by battles and wars, the female who had witnessed and brought death to many. Not you, the female who his shadows danced around, as if they could sense the darkness within.

You didn’t answer, instead deciding to refuse to meet his gaze and looking around the house, which you now realised felt too small with the two of you in it. A hand rested underneath your chin and forced you to look up and into his hazel eyes.

“Please, tell me what I did,” he begged. “I hate… I hate this. I hate you not talking to me.”

Your breathing hitched as he stared at you, his eyes conveying the hurt that you could feel pulsing down the bond, even if he was unaware of it.

“You kissed Elain,” came out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Azriel froze, and you wished you could have just kept your stupid mouth shut. “That’s it? That’s why you’re upset with me?”

It sounded so silly. You knew it sounded worse to him, because he didn’t know. He didn’t know that he was your mate, that you’d been in love with him ever since you’d learned his name. You didn’t own him, anyway – he had his own free will, and he could kiss whoever he wanted to. But it didn’t stop the ache in your heart whenever you thought of him with someone else.

When you didn’t respond, Azriel took a step back, his hand leaving your chin. You looked down in shame, feeling Azriel pull away.

“I can kiss who I want, Y/n,” Azriel said.

“I know that,” you insisted, looking up, “but–”

“There is no ‘but’, Y/n,” he argued. “You can’t get upset if I’m with someone else. Why do you even care?”

He spat the last word and you felt anger bubbling up at him and his tone. You could care if he was seeing someone. You had the right to give a fuck about his love life.

“You don’t know how much it fucking kills me, Az!” you snapped loudly. “You don’t know what it’s like, being in love with you for practically my whole life and thinking that maybe, maybe you felt the same, and then having the bond snap in place, and feeling like it was always supposed to be like that, like the Mother or the Cauldron or Fate or whatever thought that I was enough for you…”

You trailed off, breathing heavily and feeling guilt and embarrassment spread through you. You weren’t supposed to tell him like that – you weren’t supposed to lose your cool and yell at him that you loved him and… and reveal that he was your mate.

“The… the bond?” he repeated slowly, the only time you’d ever actually heard him stumble over his words. “Y/n, what do you mean, ‘the bond’?”

You sighed and rubbed your arm, once again looking away. “The mating bond. You’re my mate, Azriel.”

He was silent, and you made no attempt to change that. This was it, the moment where he accepted or rejected the bond, the moment where he either made your heart and soul feel whole, or he ripped your heart out of your chest and crushed it.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Your head snapped up at his words, at the icy rage dripping from them. Azriel’s eyes were hard and dark, staring into you and your soul. You saw him searching through every feeling, every connection to you that he could find.

And then you felt it. The tug on the string that tied your souls together, pulling you towards him. His eyes widened slightly, and his lip curled up into a snarl. “You lied to me.”

“Omitting the truth isn’t lying,” you retorted.

“I had a right to know,” he hissed, and you took a step back.

He shook his head, scoffing at you and your choices, making you feel small and inferior. You hated how easily he could do that, how easily he could make you feel irrelevant and insignificant. It reminded you of how the other Illyrian males tried to do so, not that they ever could. But Azriel had your heart and soul, and everything he said or did affected you in some way or another.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your mission,” he fumed, the cold fury still clouding his eyes. 

Before you could say anything he disappeared into his shadows, leaving you alone in the house as if he had never been there in the first place. For the second time in two days you felt a crushing feeling in your chest, a physical pain that made it hard to breathe. You felt empty, like a part of your soul was missing. 

And it was. Azriel, the other half to your soul, he was gone. And you knew you’d always be able to feel that emptiness, that hole that was so Azriel-shaped it hurt. You were going to feel it forever, no matter how far you went or how long you didn’t see him. It wouldn’t matter if you crossed oceans and lands and skies – you would always feel like you wanted to rip your heart out, if only to ease the pain.

You would always miss what was never yours.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Having the Bat Boys as your poly!Mates HC

Warnings: some smutty parts, polyamorous mates

Absolutely NO ONE will fuck with you

Many don't even dare to look at you

Plenty of whispers in court of how it was simply impossible to have three mates. Three mates that may very well be the strongest males in Prythian. (greedy greedy)

bat boys don't ask questions about it. they're all happy to share a mate. They were brothers in all but biological blood. This seemed. . . almost natural to them.

which is why they're confused at your initial resistance. In front of their destined mate, they forgot how intimidating they must look. Unapproachable.

Cassian puts you at ease once he starts joking around

and when you see a shadow of an adorable smile on Azriel's face, you knew they were anything but the big bad monsters you heard of from the other courts

the first night you had sex with all three of them forced you to stay in bed the following morning. Bitemarks and the most delicious bruises stamped on your skin. Even if you wanted to rouse from the bed, your jelly legs wouldn't be able to support you

and after that they can't just go back to fucking you individually as they had in the beginning of your relationship with the trio

by far the best team building exercise they could ever go through.

a favorite scenario was Rhysand masturbating to the sight of your mouth and pussy filled up with Azriel and Cassian's cocks.

"Gonna fuck an heir into her Rhys?" was Cass' favorite thing to say to send you over board when Rhysand had you in a mating press.

Some lords in the Court of Nightmares of course have issue with this union. If you were to become pregnant, whose to say which of the batboys would be the father. They couldn't accept an heir that actually wasn't from Rhysand's lineage. It would be unthinkable for a high lord's mate to become pregnant with another male's child.

the word whore frequently reached your ears

it's one of the few times Cassian wants to disobey his high lord by killing a prominent figure in the Court of Nightmares. He had no tolerance for that word being associated with you

not to say Rhys and Az were okay with it

among them, you were the voice of reason.

you made the batboys' relationship with one another even stronger

they trained and fought harder; created tactics to be utilized in their trio (this included defensive positions if anyone ever tried to harm you)

commissioned a specially made bed that could comfortably hold all four of you

can't escape the dog pile that they become when cuddling with you

you actually don't see them jealous that often. at least not toward one another. outsiders were not to be tolerated. and they viewed all other males as threats.

like making bets with all of them

there was even an ongoing bet: who would impregnate you first

[captainsophiestark]

Come Here Often?

Cassian x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Everyone in the Inner Circle knows Cassian and Y/N have feelings for each other, except the two idiots in question. Thankfully, the IC's not known for minding their own business, especially in matters like this.

Word Count: 1,772

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Are you sure you don't want to go see a show at the Ampitheater tonight?" I asked, trying to give Mor a guilt trip with no more than a look as we carried bags towards the river house. She just scoffed at my attempt.

"I already told you, I can't. I wish I could, but our lovely High Lord has me doing work all night tonight."

I huffed. "Fine. Let me know if I can do anything to help with the work, since I'm losing my theater buddy."

Mor shot me a grin. "I'm sure you could find somebody to replace me if you really wanted to."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew what she wasn't saying: that I should invite Cassian. To do something, if not to go to the amphitheater. I regretted ever telling her I'd caught feelings for the Illyrian general.

"Whatever, Mor," I scoffed, failing to come up with a better comeback. She grinned, clearly sensing her victory, but luckily for me I'd reached my room. "Enjoy all that work you have to do tonight!"

I didn't wait for her response before ducking through the door and shutting it behind me. I could hear her laughing as she continued down the hallway to her own room, but I did my best to block it out as I dropped my bags.

I hovered a little longer in my room, taking my time putting away the things we'd brought back from the market, until I heard Mor leave to go do whatever work Rhys had her doing. I checked both ways in the hallway when I finally emerged before heading down to the kitchen.

All of my friends had been hounding me about Cassian lately, and as much as I loved them, if I heard another word from anyone trying to nudge me into asking him out or whatever, I was going to lose it.

I made my way towards the kitchen, intending to make myself a snack before figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my evening, but I stopped short at the sound of harsh whispers coming from within. It sounded like somebody was having a heated conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt anything. But then my stomach rumbled, and I decided to go in anyway.

I cleared my throat and made as much noise as possible so I wouldn't interrupt any Inner Circle members in the middle of something serious. When I rounded the corner, I found Cassian and Azriel sitting at the table in the middle of the space, leaned back in their chairs and trying way too hard to look casual.

"Hey guys..." I said, eyeing them both suspiciously as I slowly moved further into the room. Az gave me a little nod, and Cassian gave me a smile that looked more than a little forced. "What, uh... what are you both up to?"

"Rhys needs my help with something," Azriel said, standing abruptly. I narrowed my eyes at him, but of course his expression gave away nothing as he headed for the door. "I'll see you both later."

I watched him go, then turned my gaze to Cassian once Az was gone. His back was to me, so I couldn't read his expression, but his shoulders were tensed and he hadn't turned from the doorway Az had disappeared through.

"Okay..." I said, deciding to just move past it as I turned to the counter to start making myself a snack. "What about you, Cass, you got anything going on tonight?"

Cassian cleared his throat. "Me? Nope."

I heard him shifting in his chair behind me, and a moment later he was standing at my side. I prayed he couldn't hear my heart racing faster at his proximity as I tried to keep my focus on the fresh fruit in front of me.

"So, uh, you..." Cassian's wings rustled behind him, usually a sign of nerves. I frowned. "You come here often?"

I paused, setting the knife down and opting to slowly turn to face Cassian, one eyebrow raised. He fidgeted as he stared back at me, and I caught him forcing a grimace off his face in favor of a small smile. I'd never seen him look so nervous before.

"I... Cass, we both live here."

The grimace returned in full force, and I couldn't help smiling as Cassian brought a hand to his forehead.

"That's not what I meant to ask you," he said, shaking his head and meeting my eyes again. "What I meant was, uh... do you have a bandage?"

"A bandage? Did something happen? Did you get hit-"

"Dammit! No, I'm fine. Never mind, I need to go find Az-"

He started to push off the counter, but on a reflex, I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me, and my heart almost stopped in my chest at the intensity of his gaze.

I quickly pushed down the butterflies in my stomach to give Cassian a once-over. No matter what he said, he clearly was not fine. I didn't see any obvious physical injury, but a hard hit to the head would definitely explain some things, and when I met his eyes again he had a weird look in them.

"Cassian, are you sure you're okay? What's going on?"

He took a deep breath and then hesitated, his eyes darting over my face and his brow furrowed. Then, he sighed, his face and shoulders relaxing with him.

"I'm sorry, I just... I was trying to ask you out." My eyebrows shot up, but Cassian continued before I could muster a coherent response. "I've been wanting to do it for a while now, but I lost a bet to Az last week and my 'punishment' that I finally had to go through with it. I've been trying to figure out the best way to do it, but... I guess that wasn't it."

Cassian huffed a little laugh at himself, his expression drooping as he stared at the ground. I just blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to process everything he'd just told me.

"Hold on... you're asking me out because you lost a bet to Az?"

"Not just for that," Cassian assured me quickly, looking worried. "Or, I guess, if you're not into it, then maybe yes?"

I just laughed, which didn't seem to make him feel better. I felt guilty, but I also just couldn't help it. My heart leapt as I put a hand on Cassian's shoulder and his eyes snapped to mine again.

"Cass... I barely escaped that exact same bet with Mor last week."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Yeah," I said, laughing a little. I couldn't quite help it. Cassian apparently felt the same way about me as I did about him, as evidenced by our friends' ridiculous tactics. My heart soared, and I stepped a little closer to him. "I cheated a little to get out of losing, but she's been pressuring me to ask you out somewhere anyway for the last week and a half."

"Because... you like me?"

"Yeah. A lot."

The frown finally lifted from his face, replaced with a beaming grin that made my heart race. Slowly, he moved one arm to wrap around my waist, pulling me a little closer to him. I let one hand rest against his chest, and Cassian's lopsided smirk almost made me faint.

"Our friends are going to be rubbing this in for a long time, but I can't make myself care," he said, voice low. I bit my lip and smiled up at him.

"Same. Especially since I think they're all out of the house right now on a fake assignment for Rhys."

"That's definitely a perk of all their bullshit."

"So... what now?"

Cassian's eyes flashed as he leaned forward, pulling me flush against his chest. He dropped his mouth towards mine until they were barely inches apart, then met my eyes. Based on his grin, I knew he could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

"I have a few ideas," he breathed.

A heartbeat later, his lips were on mine, and fireworks exploded in my chest. Being with Cassian like this just felt right, and now that we were finally together, I never wanted to let him go.

I wasn't sure who initiated it, but we deepened the kiss as Cassian's grip tightened on my waist. I let my hands wander over his chest, to his shoulders and arms, but stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a disgusted scoff from behind me.

Cassian and I broke apart, arms still around each other, and turned towards the door to find our friends standing there, staring at us with their hands on their hips.

"Well, I guess this is what we wanted," said Mor with a shrug.

"Pretty sure I told him to ask her out, not make out with her in the kitchen," Az chimed in from beside her. Rhys and Feyre just grinned at us, while Amren stared, clearly unimpressed.

"Do you all mind?" Cassian ground out, his hands tightening a little more around my waist. Mor just grinned and skipped into the kitchen completely undisturbed, heading for my unfinished fruit platter.

"Not at all," she said. Cassian sighed, but I couldn't keep myself from laughing. Our friends were absolutely ridiculous, but I loved them dearly. And Cassian and I had just made out in the kitchen, so I really don't think much in this world could've ruined my mood.

"Why don't the two of you go see a show or something?" Feyre suggested, following Mor into the kitchen, the other batboys following behind her. Cassian narrowed his eyes at his brothers, but I just smiled, at last stepping out of his grasp and taking his hand.

"That's a great idea, Feyre. Cass? What do you think?"

His expression softened the minute his gaze shifted to me. My heart melted.

"Sure. How about we go to Rita's after, too? Do some dancing?"

"Sounds like a plan. Just let me go get changed."

"I'll meet you back down here."

We shared a smile, and I leaned up to give Cassian one last quick kiss before turning on my heel to go get ready. Rhys and Az both smiled at me as I left the room, and I shot them a wink as I left. I would've preferred it if they'd all given Cassian and I our space tonight, but at the end of the day, we wouldn't have admitted our feelings for each other without our nosy, pushy friends. So I couldn't exactly stay mad at them, at least not this time.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[mommyofkittens]

Masterlist

A Court of Fallen Heroes ( Azriel FanFiction )

Summary

It was a well known fact: the veil between the worlds grew thinner and thinner, so the possibility of a crashing was already a certainty. The rumours started a long time ago, but no one did anything to stop it. Luckily, time has passed, we went through wars and race eradications, but Faerie Realms and Mortal Lands stayed almost the same, some richer and some poorer.

Nobody was talking about the fallen, untill now, when the fates started working their old, wicked magic and gave us an early Summer Soltice gift: an unprepared girl who was sent tumbling from the sky.

Tumultuous and dangerous,

Bitter and heartbreaking.

This is the story of the Evening star.

About the young woman who holds the Sun as her weapon,

And the Moon as an ornament.

About the Cursed Crown, who chooses its own master

And about the man in the shadows, irreversibly bound to her, by the tongue of death.

And, after all, about us, the nothingness who catches a goal.

I am the Bloody Blade, former leader of the first legion, last of my kind, banished and tormented by dark memories and here is the beginning of our story.

Playlist

Prologue

Chapter 1: 3:33

Chapter 2: " God Forbid... "

Chapter 3: The Waking World

Chapter 4: The Countess

Chapter 5: Haunted

Chapter 6: Decisions. Part I.

Chapter 6: Decisions. Part II.

Chapter 7: A Tale of Time

Chapter 8: Jane Doe Chapter 9: The Third One

Hello, everyone! I am new to the writing experince and also English is not my first language. Hopefully, this won't interfere with my work too much. I am sorry if there are mistakes, I'll try to correct them. I didn't give up on this work, but writing one chapter is taking quite some time considering the fact that I always have to check my grammar and if the phrases make sense or if they're too long. Sometimes, when inspiration doesn't come, I write them in my own language and then translate and it takes a while too.

Also, I have exams untill mid July. Med school it's time consuming as hell. 🥲

You can also find me on Ao3 and Wattpad, I always keep my chapters updated and corrected there because it's easier to read them.

Hope you like my work! Have a great day, babes!

[thebadgerclan]

Sensitive

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

Summary: Illyrian wings... so sensitive...

Smut!

A/N: I combined some A/B/O elements with the mating aspects, but it's just smut lol. Enjoy!

As soon as you stepped through the door, Rhysand could smell Cassian all over you, and it made him boil with rage and possessiveness.  Cassian was helping you train in Illyrian sword-fighting, which your mate knew; it had been Rhys who’d asked his brother to help you in the first place, but he’d failed to take into account the proximity sword training would require, and as such, the fact that another male’s scent would linger on you.

You seemed in good spirits, laughing at whatever Cassian had said as you entered the town house, but the smile fell when you saw-and scented–your mate.  Cassian smelled it too, and paused a few paces behind you.  “I think that’s my cue to head out,” he said before exiting the house, leaving it empty save you and your mate.  Rhys appeared an instant later, darkness rippling off him in waves.

The High Lord snarled as he approached you, folding you into his arms, his wings following immediately after.  “I don’t like you smelling like anyone but me,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smirk, running a hand down your mate’s neck.  “I know, love,” you cooed, nibbling at his jaw.  “But would you rather me reek of Cassian for a few hours or not know how to defend myself?”

Another snarl left Rhysand’s mouth, and you pressed your lips to his, bringing one hand to card through his ebony locks, the other to trace the tendons in his left wing.  Your mate shuddered under your touch, and you felt some of his tension dissolve through the mating bond.  “You know I love it when you get jealous, Rhys, but you don’t need to be.”  You trailed your lips down his neck, teeth scraping over the mark you’d given him.  “Because you are mine .”

Then, you brought your wrist to his neck, rubbing it over the column of his throat, melding your scents together.  “Mine,” you repeated, nuzzling your cheek against his.  “ Mine .”  You dragged your free hand over Rhys’ wings, eliciting a shaky moan from your mate’s lips, and you bit your lip.  “And I’m yours, Rhys.  All yours.”  You continued to rub yourself–neck, cheek, and wrist–against Rhysand, thoroughly scenting him, which you’d recently discovered turned him on, and delicately massaging his wings.

The two in tandem with each other had your mate achingly hard and well on the way to release.  “Y/N,” he moaned, gripping your shoulders to stay upright.  “Y/N, darling, fuck, maybe we should head upstairs.”  “No,” you replied, paying special attention to a place on Rhys’ right wing, just above where it met his shoulder, that always made him weak in the knees.  “No, love.  You’re going to come for me, right here.  And then you can take me upstairs and ravish me.”

Rhysand whimpered, letting his head tip forward to rest against your shoulder.  His cock had yet to be touched, yet it was throbbing for release, straining for your touch.  When you rubbed your cheek against his neck, right over his mating mark, releasing your scent into the air, and ran your fingers over that sweet spot on his wing, Rhysand came, his knees buckling as he moaned your name, wings shuddering under your touch.

You felt a hint of his pleasure through the bond, which made your cunt squeeze around nothing, and you supported your mate through his high,  But when he regained his composure, Rhysand lifted his head, and there was hunger in those violet eyes.  “Mate,” he growled, pulling you into his arms and kissing you needily, deeply.  No other words were spoken before he winnowed you into your bedroom, where the High Lord of the Night processed to make love to you for hours.

[theladyofdeath]

The Holiday {5}

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @snelbz

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers

Summary: Nesta has just been dumped. Aelin hates her job. Both women need an escape from reality and with Christmas quickly approaching, it's the perfect time for a getaway. After discovering a trend where people can swap houses for a non-traditional vacation experience, these two women decide to spend the holidays in each other's homes. With their houses comes a series of unique experiences and a couple of handsome suitors. It's time to see just how much a change of scenery and two weeks of Christmas solitude and romance can change a person.

A/N: We're halfway there! Thank you all for reading! x

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

Nesta was curled up on the couch, burger half-eaten on the coffee table, proofreading the chapter she’d been working on, when she heard a knock on the front door. She snapped her laptop closed, as she always did when she was writing, and froze. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was after eleven.

Fear shot through her for a split second until realized who it likely was.

Getting to her feet, Nesta felt the bottle of wine she’d drank in the two hours she’d been home. It may not have been the best idea to edit while drinking, but she’d go back over it in the morning.

Hugging the sweater she was wearing tighter around herself, Nesta headed for the door, murmuring something about egotistical assholes under her breath.

Before opening the door, she rose up on her toes to look through the peephole, confirming her suspicions. With a sigh, she turned the lock and braced herself for the winter night.

Cassian was standing on the top step, his arms tucked underneath each other to fend off the cold.

“It’s late,” Nesta said, before realizing it was not the best version of hello.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied, although he didn’t look sorry at all. He held up a scarf that Nesta found familiar. “You left this at the bar. I told Gwyn and Em I’d get it back to you.”

“And it couldn’t wait until morning?” Nesta asked, brow arched.

“I’d probably forget by then,” he confessed with a grin. “Honestly I’m surprised you’re still up.”

Nesta scoffed. “Why? It’s eleven. Surely I don’t seem that boring.”

She didn’t bother to mention that she was usually in bed at such an hour, but judging from the gleam in Cassian’s eyes, he already knew as much. 

“Forgive my assumptions,” he said, and his tone was aggravatingly mocking. He held her scarf out once more and Nesta snatched it. “So what did you think?”

Nesta blinked. “About what?”

“Tonight,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “My set.”

She hadn’t expected him to be so direct, which was ridiculous, considering who she was talking to. Crossing her arms, Nesta shrugged. She could snap and bite, but she would never intentionally downplay someone’s talent. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was talented. “It was pretty good.”

Cassian rocked back on his heels, eyes going wide. “Was that an actual compliment?”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta turned, ready to close the door in his face, but he caught it. 

“Wait, wait,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, I was just messing with you. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

She longed to go back inside, to reclaim her cozy spot by the fire, but there was something about his warm, hazel eyes that captivated her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to stay here and verbally spar with him…and that scared the shit out of her. The whole point of this vacation was to get a break from men. This trip was about her.

But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside. “Why don’t you play more of your own songs?”

He made a face, shaking his head. “Drunk people don’t want to hear my originals. They want to hear Wonderwall and Freefallin’.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “Which are the opposites of all the songs us sober people want to hear.”

Cassian chuckled. “Pretty sure I saw you down a drink or two.”

“Yes, but I can hold my liquor,” Nesta crooned, eyes narrowing. It was so easy with him, this quick witted banter.

“I respect that,” Cassian said, and there was something in his eyes, something in his tone that made her toes curl and her stomach fill with anxious nausea. 

Nesta cleared her throat. She was caught somewhere between wanting to invite him in and wanting to tell him to get the hell out of her sight. She did neither. Instead, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”

That little sensual grin on his lips faltered. “For what?”

“Threatening to beat you with a frying pan,” she said, quietly. 

The laughter that tumbled out of the man before her was glorious. “It’s enlightening to find a woman who can protect herself. No apology necessary.” Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, a chill swept over her body and she shivered.

Cassian caught the motion. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. It’s late. Goodnight, Nesta.”

Nesta nodded, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth. “Yeah, goodnight.” He had barely made it down the front porch steps before Nesta called out, “Hey, about those originals.”

Cassian stopped to look over his shoulder.

“Who cares what the audience wants to hear,” Nesta said, keeping her eyes on the falling snow instead of Cassian’s intense gaze. “You should play them anyways. I have no doubt they’ll continue to show up to watch you play whether you’re playing the world’s most overplayed songs or not.”

His eyes softened and he smiled. “And what do I have to play to convince you to come back?”

She was sure there was a similar smile on her own face. “You’ll have to figure that out on your own.”

Before he could say anything else, she closed the door and made her way to bed, proofreading and edits long forgotten.

<.><.><.><.><.><.>

Bored.

Aelin was so very bored. She’d looked through Nesta’s bookshelves, finding quite a few books from her favorite author, but she’d read them all before. There were only so many times she could refresh Facebook before she felt like she was going crazy and Nesta’s movie collection was embarrassingly slim.

So Aelin was bored.

The sun was starting to set and not only was Aelin bored, she was hungry.

She could go for another burger, maybe a plate of onion rings, and there was a certain someone she wouldn’t mind splitting that plate of onion rings with.

But when she scrolled through her text messages, looking for the contact she’d saved as Delivery Boy, she couldn’t find it.

She couldn’t find any of her recent text messages she realized. It was like her phone had reverted back to a previous backup.

With a sigh, she tossed her phone aside. He had told her to let him know if she wanted company, and now she couldn’t even do that. Nesta’s note with his number on it had gone out in the trash the day before, and she wasn’t desperate enough to go dumpster diving.

She didn’t mind a little hunt, though. 

This town was tiny and someone who was out and about had to know where he was. Maybe she would still find him at the tree lot or maybe he was already sitting alone at the diner. There were only so many places to go in the little town and with the heaps of snow falling from the sky, she couldn’t imagine that he would leave the town limits. 

After hopping in Nesta’s car, Aelin drove at an alarmingly slow rate to the town’s heart, but when she pulled up in front of the tree lot, it was closed.

It wasn’t even 6:30, but Aelin had a feeling that things didn’t stay open as late here as they did in the city.

Her next stop was the diner, and although it was busy and full of life, there was no Rowan. Aelin sat down at the counter and ordered a grilled cheese and a cup of soup with another delicious chocolate milkshake. 

The same server from before was waiting on her and when she stopped to drop off a few extra napkins, Aelin asked, “Do you know how I can get in touch with Rowan?”

The woman lifted a brow, her eyes bright. “May I ask why?”

Aelin felt her cheeks burn. “I had his number but lost it. I was…hoping to get more firewood delivered. You know, so I don’t freeze to death.”

Her server chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t have his number. But I do know where he lives.”

Aelin blinked, eyebrows raising. “O…kay?”

The woman, more than a few years her senior, read the expression on her face and howled with laughter. “Oh, honey, nothing like that. He’s far too pretty for my taste. This is a small town, remember? He lives a few minutes up the mountain from my cousin.”

Aelin nodded, chuckling to herself, though she didn’t disagree that Rowan was pretty. “Great, could you tell me his address?”

“Don’t have that either,” she said, heading for the counter where a customer was waiting to pay. “Just look for the house with green shutters about halfway up the mountain.”

Before Aelin could thank the woman, she was greeting the father and his son and asking how their meal was. Finishing up her own meal, she glanced at the check and left cash on the table, with plenty left over for a tip. With a wave to the helpful server, she was out into the snowy Orynth night.

It wasn’t until she had passed Nesta’s cottage and continued up the mountain that she realized the unexpected flaw in her grand plan of hunting down Rowan. What if he wasn’t home? What if he was busy? Or out on a date? He hadn’t been very forthcoming when they’d talked about relationships. She hoped she wasn’t reading into things too far, but at this point, she was approaching stalker territory as she tracked him down, so she decided to see it through to the end.

However it ended.

Her nerves increased as she drove a mile, then one more, before spotting a white, two story house with green shutters. She wasn’t sure how popular green shutters were, but it wouldn’t hurt to ring the doorbell.

Aelin cut the engine and trekked through the snow. She peeked into the garage off to the side and saw Rowan’s truck. Good, she had the right place and it looked like he was home. 

With a deep breath, she ascended the stairs and rang the doorbell. When no one came, she knocked.

This time, she caught a tall shadow through the glass window and before she could form a complete, rational thought, the door was opening.

It looked like Rowan had been in the middle of laughing but when he spotted her, his smile faded into surprise. “Oh, Aelin. Hi.”

She wasn’t sure how he would respond to seeing her, but her heart sank. Feeling foolish, she said, “Hey. I’m…sorry to bother you. I just…I lost your number and the server at the diner told me—“

Rowan stepped out onto the porch and cracked the door behind him. “No, no, it’s fine. Is everything okay?” 

Aelin nodded, trying her best to come up with a random excuse. “Firewood.”

Rowan arched a brow. “Firewood?”

“I need more firewood.”

“You already went through that entire pile? It was supposed to last until you left.”

“Yes, well, I like to be warm.”

The sound of glasses clinking came from inside and it was then that Aelin realized soft music was playing, too.

Foolish.

She was so damn foolish.

“Oh, gods, you have a date,” Aelin said, backing back down the stairs. “I am so sorry.”

“No—”

“Don’t worry about the wood,” she rambled. “I’ll manage.”

“Aelin—”

“Have a good night, Rowan.” With shaking knees and cheeks that felt like they were on fire, Aelin stepped off the bottom step and into the snow with a crunch.

She had just turned her back to him when she heard, “Dad?”

Aelin froze before slowly turning back around. Behind Rowan in the now open doorway was his spitting image in leggings and a high ponytail. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and Aelin suddenly felt even more foolish as the child’s green, curious eyes studied her.

Rowan had hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at Aelin with a breathy laugh. “You, uh…caught us during our tea party.”

Aelin was stunned. Shocked. Honestly, she’d expected literally anything but this.

Rowan turned back towards the door. “Sutton, why don’t you grab us a couple more snacks from the kitchen and I’ll be right back in, yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes still on Aelin, but did as she was told. The door clicked shut and Aelin could have sworn it was the loudest noise in the world.

Rowan’s hands were shoved in his pockets and he cleared his throat. “So…”

“You have a daughter,” she said, slowly.

“I do,” he said, his voice suddenly guarded.

She took a step back towards the house and then ascended the steps again. “You never mentioned you had a daughter.” She paused as she reached the top, pausing in front of him. “You also never mentioned you had a wife.”

“I don’t,” he replied, and she immediately picked up on the note of grief she could hear in his voice. “I’m a widower. She died when Sutton was two. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Rowan,” Aelin breathed, wanting to reach out and take his hand. She didn’t though, she just stood there looking up at him.

This night had taken a turn she wasn’t expecting. Not that she had a crazy amount of expectations, she really was looking for someone to spend some time with. The cottage down the mountain was cozy as could be, but she’d realized how lonely she’d been feeling.

The shrug he gave her was irreverent. “Like I said, it’s been a while.”

“I’m sorry for intruding on your night, I just thought— nevermind, it doesn’t matter.” Aelin turned, hurrying down the porch stairs again. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

“You’re leaving?”

Once again, she froze. His voice sent chills down her body as she turned to meet his gaze and that humor that had returned to his eyes. Aelin blinked. 

“At least tell me why you really came before you go,” he said, and his tone had gone quieter. 

Aelin hesitated. 

“Because we both know you have plenty of firewood,” he went on. Gods, he was taunting her. With a chuckle, he opened his mouth to say something else, to surely pick on her some more, but the front door slowly inched open again. Sutton gave Aelin a shy look before motioning for Rowan to bend down. He did, and she whispered something into his ear. 

They both looked at Aelin, who rocked back on her heels, and Rowan whispered something into his daughter’s ear.

It was clear they were talking about Aelin, and she didn’t like it one bit. But, after a minute had passed of them going back and forth, Rowan rose to full height and Sutton asked, “We’re just about to make dinner. Do you like pizza? We’re making our own and you can make one too, if you want.”

Aelin started. Once again, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but that wasn’t it. 

Aelin looked to Rowan who was watching her with a small smile. He mouthed, Sorry. You can say no. 

But Aelin took a step forward and ascended the stairs, once again. “I love homemade pizza.”

Rowan opened the door wider and beckoned her forward. “But first we have to finish our tea party.”

Sutton was hilarious. She may have looked like her father, with her green eyes and silver hair, but her bright laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, Aelin could see hints of someone else.

She found herself wondering about Rowan’s late wife as he and Sutton closed out their tea party and then they all three made their way into the kitchen. Even as Sutton bombarded her with questions about who she was and why she was here and Does the sky really sparkle in Velaris, Aelin kept thinking about Rowan’s nameless wife.

“I think that’s enough cheese,” Rowan said, raising an eyebrow as Sutton added a fourth handful to her pizza.

“You’re making yours and I’m making mine.” Her sweet voice was full of sass and Aelin already adored the little girl after spending only about an hour with her. “And mine is a cheeeeese pizza.”

Aelin met Rowan’s gaze just as he sighed, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. The smile on his lips gave him away. “Why don’t we compromise and put half of the cheese back and add something green?”

Scrunching her nose, Sutton shook her head. “Gross. Just cheese.”

“Miss Aelin has peppers and olives on her pizza,” he said, gesturing to where Aelin was assembling her own dinner. “If Miss Aelin is eating it, I bet it’s really good.”

With a wary expression, Sutton looked over at Aelin’s pizza. “Are the peppers hot?”

“Nope,” Aelin replied, popping a slice of raw bell pepper into her mouth. “They’re actually kind of sweet. Want to try?”

The little girl pursed her lips before stretching out her hand. Aelin placed a small piece into her hand and she examined it. Looking between her father and Aelin, she asked, “You promise it isn’t spicy?”

Aelin squatted down so she was on the same level where she sat at the kitchen table. “I pinky promise.”

She held out her fist to Sutton, pinky extended, and held her breath. After a moment, Sutton reached out and wrapped her pinky around Aelin’s, then she popped the pepper into her mouth.

After chewing for a minute, she made a face. “It’s not spicy but I don’t want it on my pizza.”

“You gave it a shot and that’s all that matters,” Aelin smiled, holding out her hand for a high five. “Good job.”

Sutton smacked her hand in a high five and then looked at her father. “Can I go play with my dragons, daddy?”

He ran his fingers through the length of her long ponytail. “Of course, sweetheart, I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

She bounded away and Aelin couldn’t help her chuckle. “She’s feisty, but adorable.”

He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “You’re telling me. The teenage years are going to be horrible.”

Aelin groaned, too. “Being a teenage girl…” She shook her head. “You couldn’t pay me enough to relive that.”

Rowan took a deep breath. “May the gods help me.”

Aelin laughed and watched as Rowan put all three perfectly made pizzas into the oven. She continued to watch as he closed the oven and slowly turned back to face her. He leaned back against the counter and said, softly, “I’m glad you stayed. We don’t get a lot of new people around here and Sutton has never been so intrigued with a stranger. I’m sorry if you thought the offer was weird.”

“I didn’t think it was weird,” Aelin said, stepping toward him. “And I’m glad I stayed too.”

Rowan’s eyes flickered down the hall before remeeting Aelin’s gaze. “Are you ever gonna tell me why you randomly showed up on my porch?”

“I—”

“If you lie about firewood one more time…”

Aelin huffed a laugh. “I think you already know the answer.”

“Maybe,” he confessed, “but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it.”

Aelin sighed then shrugged. Her heart was racing and a nausea that she didn’t seem to hate was filling her stomach. “I guess I wanted to see you.”

His smile was something to behold as he said, “I wanted to see you, too.”

“You did?” Her voice was high and breathy, but as he pushed off the counter and approached her, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“I was actually planning to call you tomorrow,” he said, pausing in front of her.

She squeaked. “You were?” Apparently, she was unable to speak more than two words at a time.

“I was.” He looked down the hall again, listening for approaching footsteps. “Sutton is staying the night with her grandma tomorrow night. I know you’re having dinner with me tonight, but I thought it might be nice to go to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Like a date?” Aelin asked, breathless.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah, like a date.”

Aelin swallowed. “You do realize that I’m only here for another week, right?”

“I do,” he said, quietly, his head cocked to the side. “And I’d still like to take you out, even if it’s just this once.”

There was something spontaneously romantic about the idea of a one time date, of a night where two people could go all out because they may never see one another again. And this man before her, this gorgeous man who was weakening her knees, could without a doubt give her one hell of a night.

“Pick me up at seven?” She asked, and she had the urge to step close to him, to take his hand, to brush her fingertips along his cheek, but she wouldn’t, not tonight when his daughter was just down the hall.

“Seven,” he breathed and nodded, just as the oven timer went off.

[burningvillage]

THE QUEEN OF SORROWS

To fall is often better than to rise.

Hybern's death has left an empty throne and a widowed Queen Consort. The situation is dire and Rheia's rise to power has her with more questions than answers. Against all better judgement, she sets her sights to strike an alliance with the very same people her late husband fought against. Although her return to Prythian has been a long time coming, it seems her only chance of survival is alligning herself with the most infamous of the Seven Courts.

PAIRING: Azriel x Tamlin's sister!Oc

CW: Politics; Misoginy; Forced Marriage; SMUT

TW: sexual trauma; abuse; self-harming;

Each and every chapter will be properly flagged for any triggering argument treated.

It is expected to be a slow-update fic, since I'm a uni student and have to proof-read everything myself. I'm working to get at least five chapters ready before starting to post officially.

I'm more used to Ao3 so the format could be weird! Hopefully I'll learn in a few.

I'll see you soon.

[folklorianhaze]

elevator buttons & evening air

Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand (Feysand)

Rating: T

Tags: One Shot, Alternate Universe — Modern Setting, Rivals to Lovers, Flirting, might turn this into a longfic later, Banter, Claustrophobia, Feyre suffers from millenial ennui, Unresolved Romantic Tension

Word Count: 5291

Summary: Meet Feyre — an exhausted, overworked attorney working for Vanserra and Co. Law Offices. She wants nothing more than to prove herself, but in the past year that she's been working here, she can't help but feel underestimated and talked down to by her boss, Beron, and her coworkers.

All of them are just the worst, she thinks, but she might hate Rhysand more than any of them. Maybe it's because of the way he looks at her sometimes from across the room, like he can actually see her, like he knows exactly what she's thinking and knows that she's settling for far less than she deserves. She hates it when he gets smug like that.

So, of course, fate has them getting stuck in an elevator together as they're both trying to leave work one evening.

Well, Feyre guesses she might as well get cozy.

Read it on AO3 here!

Feyre Archeron stared at her computer monitor and tried to convince herself that her eyes weren’t, in fact, actually literally bleeding from how many times they’d scanned over the same words over the past few hours.

She blinked, as if finally remembering that such a thing was indeed a function of her body, and sighed as she leaned back in her swivel chair. Her back made several resounding popping noises that weren’t entirely unpleasant. With a grimace, she massaged a searing tightness in her left shoulder, and cursed herself for once again forgetting her posture. She slouched badly when distracted — and well, it was hard to remain exactly riveted when one had to review the same case file with a fine-toothed comb over and over again ad nauseam.

Feyre pushed her chair back farther from her desk and treated herself to a quick stretch. Still seated, leaning her back as far into the chair as she thought she could go without risking it tipping over. (Not that it had ever happened before. Of course not.) She even dared to bring her arms over her head and let the muscles in her shoulders stretch themselves out. Imagined herself as a vine reaching for a few precious rays of sunlight.

The chair creaked pathetically beneath her movements. Like most of the furniture that decorated the glorified supply closet she called her office, it was sad, cheap, and sagging. And gray. This was a very gray space, despite her feeble attempts to give the room a little color so she wouldn’t go insane in here. But when she’d accepted this position, she’d only had enough money on hand to cover purchasing a new, more professional wardrobe for herself, and had promised herself she’d make do furnishing the space they’d given her with whatever chairs and futons she’d had leftover from her law school-era apartment. Clearly, it hadn’t worked, and the result was ramshackle and stripped of identity. Anyone could occupy this space, and you’d have no idea who they were just from looking around at it. 

Certainly nothing in this room, with its eggshell walls and windows too far up to let in any quantifiable amount of light, could compete with the shiny baubles and fucking velvet chaises decorating her boss, Beron Vanserra’s office. But seeing as he’d owned this firm for twenty years now, Feyre supposed that was to be expected. He’d had time and experience (and certainly, he’d had wealth well before even becoming a lawyer) that had helped him arrive at such a level of comfort.

She’d only been with Vanserra & Co. for about a year now — a shorter time than anyone else here, still the newbie so far. But in that time, she’d only scarcely seen Beron emerge from behind the doors to his office, although she saw various suit-wearing types popping in and out regularly during the weeks for scheduled meetings. Or evil scheming, or whatever it was they all did in there.

Enigmatic figure that he was, it seemed like everyone in the firm was constantly feuding for Beron’s attention. A few months ago, when he’d wanted a younger, fresher face to help handle a particularly time-consuming pharmaceutical company merger, it had been practically a bloodbath. Feyre couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. You would’ve thought he was standing in front of a chocolate factory, waving around a fucking Golden Ticket, she thought, shaking her head. Though it wouldn’t be entirely truthful if she said she hadn’t been interested in the opportunity, too. 

Of course, none of them had been surprised when that had gone to Rhysand. He was one of the best younger hires here, even if it physically pained Feyre to admit it.

Didn’t stop him from being a dickhead, though.

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap as her memories traveled inexorably to just a few months ago, to the office holiday party. The glitter of Christmas lights in the background, Frank Sinatra crooning over the speakers, and the look in Rhysand’s eyes as he’d sauntered up to her. She tried not to think of the conversation they’d had that night too often. Tried even harder to ignore the sudden dryness in her throat whenever she remembered what he’d looked like from up close, the way his violet stare had pinned her to the spot.

The way he always seemed to see her. Not through her, but directly into her, as if all her secret vulnerabilities and passions and thoughts were splayed out on an open table for him to observe. But there was never any eagerness in that steady gaze, no — just a curiosity, as if he were patient and content enough to study all of her from afar. As if that were all it would take to parse out the truth of her, because perhaps he already understood it.

She hated him a little bit for that.

Feyre pushed herself out of her seat, needing to banish thoughts of Rhysand as quickly as they’d settled onto her. She hated giving him that power, making him someone that could reduce her to a pacing, fretting thing. She told herself instead that she just needed to stand after hunching over her computer for so long — and anyway, as she glanced at the clock, she realized that it was just about time for her to wrap up here and head home. 

So, as luck would have it, standing was necessary and not at all a byproduct of being hung-up and moony over her obnoxious coworker.

She snatched her coat from where she’d draped it over the futon on her way in this morning — she should probably get a coat rack, would it be more professional to have a coat rack? Pulling it on and gathering her things, she headed for the door and gave the room a final cursory glance. Computer turned off, notes all tucked away and ready to last the weekend in this dark little hole of an office. It was as good as it was ever going to get. Satisfied, Feyre nodded to herself and headed out for the evening, locking the door behind her on the way.

The building was quiet this evening, the assorted desks and sofas and squat little modern chairs casting tall, thin shadows along the walls. Now that she’d stepped out into the common area (which actually had windows, she thought bitterly) she could see it was nearly full dark outside. 

Fuck. Had she really stayed so late? She was lucky the cleaning crew hadn’t locked her in.

Huffing an exasperated sigh, she headed for the elevators, trying her best not to think about how spectacularly creepy this place looked at night. Like a ghost town, or something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. As she reached the elevator doors, she slammed the button, and told herself she wasn’t being frantic, just efficient. She hugged her coat closer to her body and bounced restlessly on the balls of her feet. It seemed chillier in here with all the people gone.

She hardly even noticed anyone was behind her until she heard a familiar voice drawl, “Funny seeing you here, Archeron.”

Well, you know what they say, Feyre, she thought to herself. Speak of the devil . . .

Stomach fluttering, Feyre slowly turned around and came face-to-face with the very man she’d hoped to avoid all day. In all his smirking, arrogant glory.

“Hello, Rhysand,” she sighed, fixing him with a saccharine smile so tight that her teeth ground together. “You do realize I work here too, right?”

He returned her smile with one of his own, something like wicked amusement dancing in his eyes. “And how am I supposed to forget that? I think you’ll find someone as charming as yourself tends to be remembered, whether you want to or not.” Somehow, he made it sound as if it were both a compliment and insult in the same breath.

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks for that, I guess,” she snorted.

“An actual thank you from Feyre Archeron? Oh, day of days!”

She barely managed to reign in an eye-roll at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Still, something lightly teasing in his words tugged at the corners of her lips, made her tempted to crack the barest traces of an amused smirk. She fought it, stifled the instinct to laugh, and instead folded her arms protectively across her chest. He spoke to her like he knew her, like . . . like they were actually friends.

Was that what they were? After that night at the holiday party, were they anything at all anymore? Or were things between them forever destined to just hover in this strange, uncomfortable stagnation, both of them tiptoeing around it?

Feyre cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the elevator. Of course, it had to choose tonight, of all nights, to be so damn slow. When she returned her gaze to Rhysand, though, his expression had relaxed into careful neutrality — as if he were indeed simply waiting for the elevator, just like her, and didn’t intend to cause her any further trouble. In his hands he clutched a sleek black briefcase — which matched his equally-sleek black suit. His raven-feather hair gleamed oily blue-black in the low light.

“Working on something important tonight?” he said at last, making small talk when the silence had drawn on just long enough to edge into discomfort.

Feyre blinked, bemused by the question, then realized. “Oh — oh, no, not really. I mean, yes, I guess it is, but not . . . I don’t know, not important enough for me to have spent this much time on it. I don’t know why I stayed so late tonight. I don’t usually fall into my work like that.”

“You’re meticulous,” he said, and she couldn’t quite determine if it was a simple observation or if he’d intended to flatter her with it. “When you really care about something, that is. You hold yourself to high standards.”

Enough heat rushed to her cheeks that Feyre ducked her head slightly, hoping the curtain of her auburn hair would block him from seeing how deeply his words had resonated. Even if he’d just meant it as a passing detail he’d noticed, it had hit with more certainty than he knew. They’d worked on a few cases together in the past, but she hadn’t really thought he’d even paid attention to anything like that.

At last, the elevator gave a feeble ding to announce its arrival. The doors slid lethargically open, and Feyre tried to ignore their metal whining as she stepped in. Only four floors, and then she’d be out again. She’d always hated elevators, but especially this thing — though the rest of the office was fairly nice and new, this elevator was old and unreliable and finicky. Hopefully the trip to the lobby wouldn’t take as long as it had taken for it to get up here in the first place.

Rhysand trailed in after her, and the doors closed behind his back. Inside the elevator, the lighting was a sallow yellow, a single flickering bulb over their heads. The floors beneath them were fraying carpet, and the walls were plastered with posters advertising all the varied and oh-so-exciting things one could pursue legal action for. Beron Vanserra’s grinning face leered at her from one of them. She tried not to make eye contact with it for too long.

“What about you?” Feyre finally asked. “Were you working on anything, er—” she made a vague gesture with her hand, “—special?”

Rhysand gave a snort of derision. 

“You could say that,” he said. “Although I suspect it serves Beron’s interests more than my own.”

Feyre shrugged, but didn’t bother asking him to elaborate. After all, no one in the office was at all surprised whenever Rhysand got handed these flashy, fancy assignments. In comparison, she supposed her menial work was embarrassing, juvenile. She tried not to bristle at the thought.

Before either of them could say anything else, the elevator gave a shudder beneath their feet. Groaned in protest like some slumbering beast that had woken up to discover them resting in its mouth. There was a piercing clanking noise, the squeal of metal on cables — above them, the light flickered on and off so quickly that it was nearly dizzying — Feyre’s hand shot out to the nearest wall to keep herself steady —

— and with a thud, the elevator came to a grinding halt in the middle of its track, before it could reach the ground floor.

“Shit,” Rhysand cursed colorfully, his voice right by Feyre’s ear, holding her steady as if he’d —

— he’d reached out to keep her from falling or injuring herself.

Feyre opened her mouth, nearly too stunned to speak, but before any words could tumble out, the light overhead flickered one last time.

And then went out entirely.

Their breaths rasped noisily in the heavy darkness, both of them holding as still as possible in case the slightest movement sent them careening out of control again. Rhysand’s hand still pressed against the curve of her waist, holding her steady in the dark. She found herself only dimly aware of the heat of his touch. But at that moment, it wasn’t an entirely unwelcome sensation. In fact, Feyre felt rather grateful someone else was here with her.

Grateful that she wasn’t alone, because . . .

“Oh my god,” she finally breathed, her voice a thin wobble. “Oh my god, we’re stuck in here.”

How had she never noticed what a tight space this was before? And now that it was so dark that she could barely even tell if her eyes were open, now that it was difficult to even see her hands in front of her face . . . her chest tightened, hands shaking at her sides.

“Take a deep breath,” Rhysand told her, his voice carefully smooth, as if he were doing his best to hold back his own worries for her sake. “It’s going to be alright. Hang on just a second, okay, Feyre?”

Feyre nodded, too consumed with the cold creep of anxiety in the pit of her stomach to bother with quipping back at him about whether or not he had the right to boss her around. And slowly, purposefully, she did as he said, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. As she exhaled on a shudder, she found herself still sick with needle-sharp worry, but the sensation had dulled somewhat. As if she could hold it at bay for just a little longer.

She heard rather than saw Rhys fumble in the darkness. Then, in the next instant, a square of light blossomed between them, bathing the elevator car in the white-blue shine of the flashlight on his cell phone. The light cast his features into stark relief, his eyes flashing at her across the distance.

“At least now we can see,” he murmured. “Hold tight. I’m going to try and get the emergency button working, see if we can call anybody with that. I don’t think my phone has enough bars in here on its own.”

Feyre nodded shakily, raking her fingers through her hair. “Fuck,” she exhaled under her breath. Then again, a bit louder: “Fuck! I can’t believe this fucking happened to me!”

From over where he stood fiddling with the elevator buttons, Rhys gave a low chuckle. “Quite a mouth on you,” he said, as if he found this endlessly amusing. “Are you sure that’s workplace appropriate?”

Feyre muttered something darkly under her breath in response that she hoped Rhysand couldn’t hear — something about “working this foot up your ass” that she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate.

Or maybe he would, given how exceedingly funny he’d seemed to find her cursing.

Whatever Rhys did seemed to work, and the elevator filled with the staticky, distinctly pathetic sound of the emergency button dialing rescue services for them. She willed herself to feel at least a little relief to take the edge off those razor-sharp nerves. At least now there would be people who knew they were here, who were coming to get them. 

When someone answered on the other end of the line, he explained to them smoothly, calmly, what had happened. Perhaps Feyre would have felt compelled to interject on her own, but she was still too shaken — too focused on keeping her lunch from earlier down in her stomach where it belonged. On any other occasion, she might have bristled at the idea of letting Rhysand take the reins, but in this case, she didn’t mind relinquishing responsibility. Especially since it was just now starting to feel as if she could breathe normally again.

Of course this would happen with Rhysand, of all people, here with her. Of course he would have to see her like this, so . . . vulnerable. So afraid. Because it wouldn’t have been easier for her at all to have just been able to keep him at a distance, after all this time. No, she couldn’t have that.

“They’ll be on their way soon,” he told her, standing from where he’d crouched near the emergency button and making his way back over to her. “In the meantime . . . I suppose we might as well get comfortable, hm?”

He sighed, then looked up. And, as if noticing her face for the first time:

“Feyre,” he said. “Are you alright?”

Feyre glanced up from where she’d been pointedly studying her shoes, concentrating on anything but the way the world seemed to sway dizzily around her. Rhysand’s eyes searched her face, something she thought looked startlingly close to genuine concern furrowing his brow. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, gave a few stilted little nods. Tried for a wan little smile that even she could tell didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m — yes, I’m fine,” she finally managed. “I just — ah, this is embarrassing . . . I don’t do tight spaces. It, uh, freaks me out a little.”

Something barely perceptible in his expression softened, and Feyre’s stomach twisted. Great. Now she supposed he’d pity her or something. Still, she held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her entirely crumble before him. Help would be on the way soon, as he’d said — she only needed to endure this for a while longer. She could manage that.

She could manage being here with him, all those words unsaid lingering much too heavily in the air between them.

“In that case,” he said, settling into a crouch, and then lowering himself fully into a sitting position on the elevator floor. “Why don’t you take a seat by me? We’ll talk about something else to pass the time. Keep your mind off of it until they get here to let us out.” He patted the empty space beside him. “Unfortunately, this is the one day I neglected to bring snacks with me to work, so . . . we’ll have to go hungry for now, but at least I’m never short on sparkling conversation.” And then he winked at her, a conspirator’s grin on his tan face.

Despite herself, a smile twitched at the edges of Feyre’s mouth, a dry laugh huffing from her almost involuntarily. “I think I have some old Tic-Tacs in the bottom of my purse,” she said. “I guess if we start starving to death in here, we’ll have those to fall back on.”

His laugh in return was surprisingly warm, a richer, freer sound than she’d expected from someone who she’d scarcely ever heard speak about anything other than work. Maybe that alone was enough to convince her — or maybe she was just frightened and desperate for anything to steer her thoughts away from this literal nightmare scenario she’d wandered into. Whatever the reason, Feyre didn’t care to think too deeply on it as she at last relented, and lowered herself onto the floor at Rhysand’s side.

“Even if we are trapped in here,” he sighed when she’d settled into place, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy for the chance to talk to you, anyway. It feels like it’s been forever since . . . since we were able to just talk.” 

She didn’t miss how his eyes found hers towards the end of his sentence, nor the beat of silence that passed between them afterward that felt just a bit too significant and pointed for her to completely ignore. Feyre cleared her throat, swallowed unevenly. Anything to avoid answering, to not think about the last time they’d been so close, the way she’d thought for a moment or two that — that he might have even kissed her —

With a shiver she hoped was too small for Rhysand to see in the dark, she nodded and said, “Yeah. I’ve just been really busy. You know how it is.”

The knowing smile on his face said he didn’t buy it for a second, but he humored her. “Of course. But I don’t want to waste these precious few minutes talking shop with you, Feyre darling. Why don’t you tell me what else has been going on lately?”

“What else?” she repeated blankly.

“Sure,” said Rhys. “You must have what we like to call a life outside of that sad excuse for an office. I’d like to hear about it. Know more about what interests you outside of writing brilliant contracts and reviewing case files.”

She tried to ignore the way the subtle, casual compliment — brilliant contracts, spoken as smoothly as if it were an irrefutable fact. Tried, and failed, to ignore the way it sang all the way through her, resonating to the bone. She’d always thought that her work, her meticulous attention to detail, had gone relatively unnoticed. Why had it never occurred to her that Rhys would have kept a close eye on it — would have not only remembered, but respected, the effort she put into it all?

“Well . . .” she said with a shrug, hating the way her sentence trailed off so sadly. She might as well have had a big, blinking I HAVE NO LIFE OR FRIENDS OUTSIDE OF MY WORKPLACE sign strapped to her forehead. When was the last time she had allowed herself to be truly happy, to lift her nose from her desk and take joy in the world around her? “Um, I went to a painting class a few weeks ago.”

Maybe the answer was embarrassing and stupid, maybe something like that was nothing to be proud of at all. But it was something — more importantly, it was the last time she could remember really caring about something outside of work. The last time she’d really felt free to express the tangled mess of jumbled-up emotion in the pit of her stomach, to get it out onto a blank canvas and leave some sort of indelible mark upon the world. It was no masterpiece, but she’d created it, and that was enough.

Before landing this job — before getting into law school, really — she’d painted almost constantly. Her tiny apartment that had seen her so bravely through all the drama of undergrad had been cluttered nearly to the brim with filled-up canvases and painting supplies, vivid and bursting with color. Ideas had come to her as naturally as breathing, and back then she’d had the time and energy to devote to nurturing them as they came up.

Now, whenever she tried to reach for the part of her that wanted to paint again, it was like reaching down into an empty hole, her fingers digging up nothing but dust. And occasionally there would be a glimmer, the barest hint of inspiration, but work and the obligations of day-to-day life would stifle it. It was always later now, I’ll do it later, paint it later, but when later inevitably rolled around, she was too exhausted or distracted to devote any time to anything beyond surviving.

She missed the feeling that creating had given her. And wanted it back more than anything. But to admit that to Rhys . . . she wasn’t sure if she could yet.

“That’s good,” Rhys said, and he genuinely seemed to mean it. “I remember you mentioned it before — the painting. Making time for things like that is important when you work that hard.” He seemed to think about it for a moment, then added, “What sort of things do you like to paint?”

Feyre blinked, nonplussed. She wasn’t sure if anyone had actually asked her about that before. Most peoples’ eyes tended to start glazing over the minute she started talking about painting.

“Uh, well, I usually like to go for a more impressionistic style. I like the suggestion of something, rather than a realistic interpretation. Like . . . like whatever moment or subject I’m depicting, it isn’t there anymore, and I’m . . . I’m just painting the mark it left behind.” She gave a soft chuckle. “Sorry. That probably sounds confusing and weird and . . .” her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. “Sorry.”

“No — please, don’t apologize,” said Rhys. “I mean it. I like hearing about your process. I’m not much of an artist, myself. Creative people fascinate me in that way. My cousin Mor, she designs dresses for a living — talks my ear off about it all the time. I’m sure she’d froth at the mouth to have you as her captive audience,” he laughed.

Feyre couldn’t help it, and smiled at the idea. “She sounds great,” she said. “Especially if she really annoys you as much as it seems.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know you said that.”

“Then by all means, tell her for me.”

They fell into laughter again, the sound soft and quiet in the darkness of the elevator. Feyre found herself surprised by it — the warmth of the moment. The ease and comfort of the two of them sitting together, just talking. Perhaps she’d missed his company these past few months a bit more than she’d initially realized.

And from there, it was as if they’d never had a disagreement before at all. Talking was so easy — so natural — that they fell into conversation without any struggle whatsoever. Just chatting about whatever happened to come to mind: work drama they’d both witnessed from the sidelines, cringe-inducing jokes they’d overheard in the break room, even down to the new television shows they’d been watching. It was pleasant, maybe even something close to fun, though she wasn’t sure if she’d admit that. 

Somehow, it seemed as if she’d known Rhysand for much longer than a year; and even so, she got the sense that there was more to learn. And, in spite of herself, she wanted to know it all. Wanted to take the time to find it all out.

Eventually, their conversation slowed to a natural, comfortable silence. Still, as their laughter died out, something about the air between them became charged. Somehow, she sensed without even asking that his thoughts had traveled to a similar place to her own — and she wasn’t entirely sure if that frightened her or not. Perhaps a small, hidden part of her wanted to know that Rhysand had missed her, delighted in the fact that he, too, seemed to be wondering whether or not this tiptoeing around what they both refused to talk about was worth it. It comforted her, on some strange level, to imagine that the words she so desperately wanted to say were just on the tip of his tongue, too.

It was Rhysand who broke the silence, as if that pressing quiet was too much for him to stand. “I just want you to take care of yourself, Feyre,” he murmured, as if it were some secret confession. “I know I might not always have given you reason to believe that—” here he huffed a laugh, full of irony, “—but it’s true. I just . . . hm. Let’s just say this place would be much too boring without you.”

Feyre looked down at her lap. Carefully studied her interlaced fingers. “Rhys . . .” she whispered, unable to bring herself to say anything else. Unable to trust what might come out if she did.

“Look, just . . . don’t forget to take time to care for yourself, too, okay?” he said at last, his tone lightening a bit. “Work is one thing, but . . . you deserve to do the things that make you happy. Without any guilt or shame for it.”

The smile returned to her face, this time as its own rueful shadow. It was a nice sentiment, to be sure, but . . . “Yeah, well, find me the time and energy to do something more than just work, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Rhys elbowed her, but the movement was gentle, teasing. “Alright, smartass. Maybe I’ll just have to take you to a painting class myself sometime.”

Feyre snorted, her grin becoming more genuine now. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it, Rhysand.”

She could sense him working up a reply, and nearly opened her mouth to interrupt him before he could get it out — but both of them were stunned into silence as the lights flickered overhead, and, miraculously, sprung back on. Feyre squinted, eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, even as relief flooded her stomach.

They were getting out — the rescue crew had gotten here, they were finally going to fix this fucking thing!

It was more of an effort than she thought it would be to be happy about it — to not think about the fact that she didn’t know when she’d next get an excuse to talk to Rhysand again. Not just the two of them, like it was tonight.

She didn’t want to think too much about why she even wanted that to begin with. After all, she hated Rhys. Hadn’t she just been thinking earlier about how obnoxious and insufferable he was? No, it certainly wouldn’t be much of a loss.

When at last they’d been pulled from the gaping maw of the elevator, the doors hauled open so they could wriggle their way between them, she made her best effort to avoid direct eye contact with Rhysand. Speaking with him so candidly in the darkness had been one thing, but in the harsh lighting of the now-deserted parking garage, she felt too bare under his gaze. Too raw from everything she’d revealed, embarrassed by the vulnerabilities she’d laid before his feet. They’d gone back into the real world now, and . . . well, she’d have to work hard to draw those lines back again.

Even if she maybe didn’t entirely mind that they’d been crossed.

“Do you need me to walk you to your car?” Rhysand asked, breath fogging out in front of his face. The face that had been, mere minutes ago, so close to hers in the darkness. Feyre shook her head mutely, and he answered, “Alright. Then . . . take care. And if you don’t mind, shoot me a text when you get home safely?”

A card from his pocket, pressed into her hands. His number scrawled on it, the warmth of his hand still bleeding into the paper. Feyre’s fingers curled around it, and she nodded again, pointedly ignoring the heat blazing in her cheeks.

His fingers gave hers one last tiny, barely-there squeeze before he allowed his hand to fall to his side again. “It was good talking to you tonight.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, finally allowing her eyes to meet his. “You too, Rhys. I’ve . . .” Well, she might regret it, but screw it, wasn’t she on some kind of honesty streak, anyway? It would be a shame to break it. “I think I’ve missed you lately.”

Something unreadable flickered in his gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly in its usual crooked grin. This time tinged with something strangely close to sadness, something that made her stomach twist inside her.

“Goodnight, Feyre.”

[ursulanoodles]

🦇Wings and Shadows🦇

In case anyone is interested, I uh... wrote a porny ACOTAR Azriel/OC one-shot. It's not super fleshed out or anything (heh heh), but it was just a fun little thing I wanted to get out of my head. It was nice to step out of SDV for a minute.

I might honestly do an Az/Rhys/Cass/OC for even more funsies at some point, but I'll definitely make that more graphic and put more thought into it because uhhhhh reasons lol.

Is it hot in here? No? Just me? 😳

[secondsineternity]

WHO I WRITE FOR:

Requests are currently open!

Currently Focused On: Katsuki Bakugo, Din Djarin, Steve Harrington, Anthony Lockwood, Eddie Munson, Matt Murdock (send in a request for any of these characters and it will be completed faster!)

Ace Attorney: Athena Cykes, Simon Blackquill, Nahyuta Sahdmahdi, Franziska von Karma

A Court of Thorns and Roses: Elain Archeron, Feyre Archeron, Nesta Archeron, Amren, Azriel, Cassian, Emerie, Gwyneth, Helion, Morrigan, Rhysand, Tamlin, Tarquin, Eris Vanserra, Lucian Vanserra

Camp Half-Blood: Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez

Castlevania: Alucard, Charlotte Aulin, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Jonathan Morris

Crescent City: Hunt Athalar, Lidia Cervos, Ruhn Danaan, Declan Emmett, Danika Fendyr, Tristan Flynn, Ithan Holstrom, Tharion Ketos, Bryce Quinlan

Death Note: L Lawliet, Mihael “Mello” Keehl

Demon Slayer: Hashibira Inosuke, Kyojuro Rengoku

Doctor Who: The Doctor (8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Fugitive), The Master (Gomez & Dhawan), Mel Bush, Jo Grant, Grace Holloway, Martha Jones, Yasmin Khan, Dan Lewis, Ace McShane, Donna Noble, Clara Oswald, Amy Pond, Bill Potts, Liz Shaw, Sarah Jane Smith, River Song, Rose Tyler, Rory Williams

Fate, The Winx Saga: Aisha, Beatrix, Flora, Terra Harvey, Musa, Bloom Peters, Riven, Sky, Stella

Haikyuu!!: Keiji Akaashi, Asahi Azumane, Kotaro Bokuto, Chikara Ennoshita, Lev Haiba, Hajime Iwaizume, Tobio Kageyama, Shinsuke Kita, Kendaro Kyotani, Yu Nishinoya, Kiyomi Sakusa, Tendo Satori, Daichi Sawamura, Kiyoko Shimizu, Koshi Sugawara, Rintaro Suna, Ryunosuke Tanaka, Yuji Terushima, Kei Tsukishima, Keishin Ukai, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Hitoka Yachi, Tadashi Yamaguchi

Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo, Toge Inunaki, Kento Nanami, Maki Zen’in

Keeper of the Lost Cities: Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster, Keefe Sencen, Linh Song, Tam Song, Biana Vacker, Fitz Vacker

The Legend of Zelda: Link, Zelda

Lockwood & Co.: Lucy Carlyle, George Cubbins/George Karim, Anthony Lockwood

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ajak, Liz Allan, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter, Katy Chen, Carol Danvers, Layla El-Faouly, Jane Foster, Gamora, Agatha Harkness, Jessica Jones, Scott Lang, Darcy Lewis, Maya Lopez, Mantis, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Karli Morgenthau, Matt Murdock, Namor, Nebula, Hela Odinsdottir, Sylvie Odinsdottir, Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson, Peter Parker (Any), Pepper Potts, Peter Quill, Monica Rambeau, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sersi, Marc Spector/Steven Grant, Gwen Stacy, Tony Stark, Ava Starr, Stephen Strange, Thena, Joaquin Torres, T’Challa Udaku, Shuri Udaku, Valkyrie, Hope Van Dyne, Vision, Jennifer Walters, Michelle “MJ” Jones Watson, Sam Wilson, Shang-Chi Xu, Xialing Xu

My Hero Academia: Shota Aizawa, Tamaki Amajiki, Mina Ashido, Tsuyu Asui, Katsuki Bakugo, Jin Bubagawara, Nejire Hado, Tenya Iida, Kyoka Jirou, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Atsuhiro Sako, Hanta Sero, Tomura Shigaraki, Hitoshi Shinso, Mezo Shoji, Keigo Takami, Shoto Todoroki, Toya Todoroki, Himiko Toga, Mirio Togata, Fumikage Tokoyami, Ochako Uraraka, Toshinori Yagi, Momo Yaoyorozu, Hizashi Yamada

Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner

Shatter Me: Kenji Kishimoto, Aaron Warner

Spy X Family: Agent Twilight (“Loid Forger”), Yor Briar

Star Wars: Cassian Andor, Poe Dameron, Din Djarin, Cara Dune, Armitage Hux, Bo-Katan Kryze, Fennec Shand

Stranger Things: Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Joyce Byers, Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Donatello, Casey Jones, Leonardo, Michelangelo, April O’Neal, Raphael

Throne of Glass: Aedion Ashryver, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Gavriel Ashryver, Manon Blackbeak-Crochan, Lysandra Ennar, Nesryn Faliq, Dorian Havilliard, Elide Lochan, Fenrys Moonbeam, Lorcan Salvaterre, Yrene Towers, Chaol Westfall, Rowan Whitethorn

Twisted Wonderland: Leona Kingscholar, Jamil Viper

The Umbrella Academy: Number One / Luther Hargreeves, Number Two / Diego Hargreeves, Number Three / Allison Hargreeves, Number Four / Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five, Number Six / Ben Hargreeves, Number Seven / Viktor Hargreeves, Number Five / Sloane Hargreeves

Vampire Academy: Adrian Ivashkov, Dimitri Belikov, Lissa Dragomir, Rose Hathaway, Sydney Sage

Wednesday: Wednesday Addams, Tyler Galpin, Enid Sinclair, Xavier Thorpe, Larissa Weems

Wizarding World: Lorenzo Berkshire, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Ominis Gaunt, Hermione Granger, Queenie Goldstein, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, James Potter, Mattheo Riddle, Sebastian Sallow, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley

a character in italics is a favorite to write for. taking a break from strikethroughed fandoms. list is subject to change.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin

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[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Pairing(s): Rhysand x Reader, Cassian x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Warnings: poly relationship, smut, sharing is caring, poly mates, fff what i would give to have the bat boys as my mates, voyeurism, masturbation, bratty reader, disobeying rhys and the gang, punishment, overstimulation

Words: 1761

Summary: One major flaw of your's: You were cocky of not just your own strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates.

You knew you were in deep shit the moment you nailed the coffin into your decision.

Rhysand forbade you from acting out on your own during this reconnaissance. Normally he wouldn't have said anything; you were good at whatever you put your mind to and you knew how to behave yourself unlike Cassian who was known to blow his cover from time to time. You and Azriel made an excellent spy pair. Both levelheaded and calculating, not to mention very deadly. Lacking the useful shadows that were unique to Azriel, that didn't stop you from being just as intimidating.

Or perhaps reckless.

That was one major flaw of your's. You were cocky of not just your strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates. Yes, THREE.

A fae would be lucky to find their soulmate in their lifetime. Many never felt that electrifying spark of your invisible bond being snapped into place. And you'd felt it three times. A phenomenon that had never been witnessed before in all of fae history. It caused Rhysand to delve deep into the House of Wind's library to look up whatever he could about fae soulmates. He even went so far as to ask Helion, whom he had a somewhat friendly relationship with, if he could scrounge up any information on his end. The Day Court high lord upon hearing of this immediately became highly interested.

Of course you would feel indestructible. On top of the world even. In your pocket you possessed a High Lord, a general and a spymaster. You yourself were known as the Mistress of Poison.

None of that would save you from disobeying Rhysand's orders though. Sometimes you forgot that you HAD to obey him. Even if the four of you stood together as equals, there was still a power dynamic when regarding Rhysand. Azriel would not be covering for you this time.

"It was the perfect opportunity Rhys!" Trying to argue your case once more, Rhysand merely holds a hand up to quiet you. You pout, biting down on your lower lip to prevent anymore words from slipping out. Nervously you glance to either side of you where Cassian and Azriel stood.

Az's blue eyes catch you in the corner, he stiffly shakes his head. Don't argue, love.

Even Cassian's voice chimes in You've really done it this time.

He wasn't exaggerating. Rhys' pretty violet eyes were hardened. "You could have gotten hurt." More importantly, you blocked me from your thoughts. Like you think I wouldn't know. "You disobeyed me. You could have even blown Azriel's position."

Unlikely. . . Azriel half muses but returns his face to a neutral expression when he caught Rhysand's gaze sharply slice into him.

Utterly foolish, you utter "But I didn't get hurt. And I didn't blow Azriel's cover." The pressure of his power thickens the air around you. "I succeeded in killing them, didn't I? Succeeded in what we were sent out to do."

Cauldron, zip your beautiful mouth. Mentally hisses Cassian. From the corner of your eye you catch a twitch of his wings.

You were digging your own grave yet you couldn't stay silent. Rhys' doubt of your capability wounded you.

Rhys sighs deeply through his nose, the rigidness of his broad shoulders reduces when he reads your thoughts. "That's not the issue here."

"You don't think I can take care of myself? That I can't be trusted like Cassian and Azriel?"

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Rhysand's deep black hair shifts as he shakes his head. "Perhaps this is my fault. You think you don't have to listen to me because you're my mate. That you don't have to listen to any of us."

From either side, you suddenly feel hands clamp down on your wrists. Rounded eyes gawk at Cassian before swiveling to Azriel. You give your wrists an experimental tug to test your restraints. Fingers like iron manacles.

"You're spoiled."

Brat.

The click of his boots hammer into your chest each step he took.

"I can't let this insubordination continue. I know you can take care of yourself. If you had discussed this with us, we would not be in the situation we're in now."

You didn't even tell Az where you'd rushed off to. And you didn't care about what you would be putting him through with your vanishing act.

Finally Rhysand stands in front of you. His entire hand was able to grab your entire jaw. "I'm proud that you succeeded. But I'm going to have to remedy your arrogance."

You try to wrench your face out of his grasp, in response Rhysand tightens his hold. He's not looking at you, addressing the other two. "Take her to my room. I'll be there in a moment. Have her ready."

A thrilling surge shoots through your core, alongside terror that you would be at their complete mercy. Unable to touch and coax them. All of you knew you wouldn't apologize for what you did. This wasn't the first time you'd callously acted on your own. To your credit, it had been quite some time since you'd last disobeyed Rhys.

"Really should have kept your mouth shut." Cassian barks out a laugh as he and Azriel haul you off.

Azriel shakes his head but even he has a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. "Maybe it's you who needs to shut your mouth Cass. She may be at our mercy, but I doubt that exempts you from having your dick bitten."

He rolls his eyes. "She would never! Love my cock too much, don't you?"

In reply you snap your jaws at him before turning your attention to Az. "You know I didn't mean anything bad by what I did. I know I should have taken your feelings into consideration-"

"But you didn't. Don't think you can sweeten me up with a belated apology." Hazel eyes narrow at you. He would be offering no help to you. "Be silent and accept your punishment.

The cover over your eyes disorients you even more. Still you were able to distinguish whose cock was shoved into your mouth and whose teeth were sweetly nibbling on your clit causing you to cry out and beg for mercy.

You'd already orgasmed twice and your poor clit was overstimulated to the point where pleasure bordered pain.

You try to yank your hands free from Rhys' magic that bound you. His heavy gaze weighing you down. You didn't require sight, of course Rhysand would be watching. Probably fisting his own thick cock that was beading with precum. He wouldn't waste his seed on masturbating though.

"Alright. Have her present." Rhys voice sounds lazy as he commands his general and spymaster to stop.

Suddenly your body is pulled this way and that until your face is pressed against a pillow, ass positioned high up. Rough hands spread your legs so your already messy cunt is on display for the High Lord of the Night Court.

There's a sharp smack to your ass that has you yelping.

Another.

And another.

Then obtrusive fingers slide right into your exhausted pussy. You'd already taken Cassian and Azriel. Twice.

A hand, most likely Az's, strokes your sweat soaked hair.

"We're a team, are we not?" Rhysand's harsh tone clips through your pants.

"Y-Yes." At that point you'd allow all three of them to try and shove their dicks inside of your cunt if it meant you could get water and some rest. "M'sorry. . ."

"We talk things out together." He removes his fingers and you could feel the spongy tip of his cock prod at you. "None of us make a move until all of us agree. Was that not the plan? Don't apologize just to me."

"M'sorry Cass. . . S-Sorry Az. . ." You're barely able to catch your breath when you feel Rhysand breach your folds. Your nails cling desperately to the sheets under you.

Cassian laughs. "I know you are, sweetheart. I forgive you."

Azriel's scarred digits are still weaving through your hair as he hums. "Just remember next time. Don't let it happen again."

"Though I dare say she likes being punished." Darkly laughs Cassian when Rhysand finally snaps his hips forward to sheathe himself inside of you.

He stretches your walls to their limit in a ferocious rhythm that has you unattractively squealing. Rhysand's grip on your waist is firm as he keeps you in position with the help of your other two mates. You can't help the drool that dribbles out of the corner of your mouth. Especially when his balls keep tapping against your clit.

Through his own groans of pleasure at the absolute death grip your pussy had on his shaft, Rhysand manages to pull himself together to ask "What do you guys think, should I make her cum again?"

"N... N. . . No!" You helplessly protest from under him.

They just laugh.

"Never heard you reject an orgasm before." Azriel cheekily comments.

Rhysand must have thought it a good idea since you felt another white hot jolt when the pad of his finger lands on your poor clit that throbbed with its own heartbeat. "Our High Lady can take one more."

You thought you'd ascended to another plane of existence.

Your boys spent the next two hours bathing you from the mess they'd made of your body.

With feather light touches, Azriel gently ran a soft towel over your sensitive skin.

Sitting between Rhysand's legs, your High Lord washed your hair. When he came across a knot, Rhysand coaxed it free without the harsh tugging they'd previously been doing with it. He'd asked you to recount to him how you'd killed the target. Now that the hard feelings were over, your boys wanted to hear about your success.

After bathing, Cassian presents you with a pre-warmed towel that engulfed your whole being.

Once in bed, your eyes grew warm. "I am sorry. Really. We are a team. I shouldn't have acted on my own."

Rhysand leans down to brush his lips along the bridge of your nose before kissing you. "You don't have to apologize anymore."

Cassian, being your favorite teddy bear, slithers under the sheets with you and pulls you to his expansive chest. He insisted on being first in the cuddling duties. Rhysand and Azriel unfortunately had to finish their own respective duties. But the general was all your's for the rest of the night.

He kisses the crown of your head. "Rest sweetling."

Azriel kisses your cheek before standing tall. "Have sweet dreams."

[captainsophiestark]

The Hard Call

Azriel x Reader

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Requeted by Anon! Nonnie, thank you for enabling me to write about Az and Flynn, I absolutely love you for it ❤️ Feel free to drop by any time you want to talk anything SJM-related! Hope you like this, and good news, I have a Flynn fic coming in the next couple days too!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Azriel made the hard call when he had to, but he's feeling pretty guilty about it.

Word Count: 1,610

Category: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: House of Flame and Shadow spoilers below the cut!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath as Nesta jammed Ataraxia into the back of the Daglan, the Asteri, whatever it was called. Black blood spurted out of its mouth, but a moment later, the thing—Vesperus—pushed back against the tip of the blade and removed it from her chest. It shouldn't have been possible for something to survive a direct hit like that from Nesta and that sword, but a lot of things from the past few days shouldn't have been possible.

When a fae female had landed in a heap on the River House lawn in front of my mate, I knew we were in for some strange new challenges. But never in a million years could I have predicted the journey she'd led us on through tunnels apparently running all under the Night Court, straight into the heart of the Prison. And now we were facing down one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, just me, Az, and Nesta, with the female Bryce as an unreliable additional ally.

I tightened my grip on my sword and tried to calm my racing heart as I stood shoulder to shoulder with Azriel. We'd gotten through countless life and death situations together before, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one.

Vesperus gave Nesta a horrifying smile as the wound in her chest quickly healed. I glanced to Az, but he kept his eyes locked on the monster before us.

"Ataraxia didn't work," Nesta breathed. "The Trove-"

"Do not summon the Trove," barked my mate. Based on what we knew about this thing before us, I immediately agreed. "Don't bring it near her."

"But-"

"Not even for our lives," he snarled, leaving no room for argument. The same harsh resolve solidified itself in my mind, and I braced myself for the possibility of a last stand. At least if we went down, it would be fighting side by side with my mate.

A flicker of shadows floating softly over my shoulders was the only indication that my mate felt the same. The Daglan grinned, and I got ready to pounce.

****************

Hours later, I sat slumped in my favorite chair in the Velaris townhouse, trying to recover from everything that had happened under the prison. We'd managed to kill the Daglan-Asteri, despite Bryce trying to question it, no matter the risk to our world. But she had gotten away in an impressive display of power, which meant her world's Asteri might have a chance at using her to find us.

Needless to say, when Az, Nesta, and I had made it out of the Prison, we'd had a lot to debrief about with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Nobody was happy about the situation we now found ourselves in, but for the time being, there was also nothing we could do about it. So once we made a basic plan to try to gather information and prepare in case something from that other world came back, we all split off for our separate tasks. Az still had a few things to go over with Rhys, but I was free for the time being, so I'd come to my favorite cozy spot in Velaris to try to come down from the insane adrenaline that had been pumping since Bryce got here.

One perk of Rhys and Feyre building the River House and Nesta keeping Cassian at the House of Wind more often was that the townhouse, my personal favorite location, was often free for Az and I to use as our own. I closed my eyes in my favorite armchair by the fire, still in my fighting leathers, and focused on taking deep breaths to try to get the tension out of my shoulders.

I'd actually almost managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the front door open and shut heavily. I didn't need to look to know Az had just arrived, so with a deep sigh to drag me back from the edge of sleep, I raised my head and turned to look at my mate.

"Everything figured out with Rhys?" I asked. He nodded once, moving into the room with a face like stone. I frowned, sitting up and paying a little better attention as he took a seat on the couch, his gorgeous hazel eyes never leaving mine. "What's wrong?"

A muscle in Az's jaw ticked, and I knew he was mustering a response to my words. Despite his reputation as the unreadable spymaster, all our time together as friends and then as mates had given me a leg up on everyone else who tried to read his expressions.

I stood from my seat in the armchair and moved to sit before Az on the couch instead, taking his hands in mine. His eyes searched my face, and I let a small smile work its way through the exhaustion, trying to put him at ease. He could take however long he needed to, and I'd be ready to listen when he wanted to talk.

"I'm... sorry."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

That muscle in his jaw was working over time, the rest of his face the same inscrutable mask he'd worked so hard to perfect.

"For what happened in the Prison. For... being willing to let you die down there, rather than risk Nesta summoning the Trove. You deserve a better mate than that."

My jaw dropped, shock preventing me from responding for a few small moments. Az just kept staring at me, and even though his face didn't show it, I could feel the guilt eating him up at his core.

"Az, you have nothing to apologize for!" I finally managed. One of his eyebrows quirked up and he frowned, expressing doubt at my words without speaking one of his own. I huffed and squeezed his hands tighter.

"Listen to me, Azriel. The reason you are my mate is because you made that decision in the Prison. We both know that letting something like that into the world with a weapon like the Mask is an unacceptable option, as long as there is anything in this world we can do to prevent it. If the Daglan or the Asteri or whatever she was had gotten her hands on the mask, it probably would've cost the lives of everyone we've ever cared about, and the rest of this world along with it. Nothing is worth allowing that to happen."

Az ground his jaw, his gaze softening and his eyebrows furrowing as he continued to scan my face.

"Are you... sure? Cassian and Rhys... I think they'd tear the world to shreds for their mates."

I just shrugged. "For what? If the world is gone, if the cost of that choice is absolutely everything else, then what's the point of saving each other in the first place? We'd have nothing left, other than the blood of the world on our hands."

Az grunted, and I shifted closer to him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Az. I love you, so much, and a part of that love is because you're not so selfish as to risk throwing the world away for me. Especially since, more likely than not, we'd be dead anyway not long after she got that mask. Neither of us is selfish enough to make a call like that, and I love that about us. The only thing that matters is that we stand together as long as we can, and I knew damn well in the cave that if either of us was going down, we were going down side by side, fighting to our last breath. Obviously I'm happy we both made it out of there, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for each other, but that call you made today? I'd be pissed if you'd made a different one."

Az studied me for another second, and I let him see every truth and emotion written in my face. Finally, he sighed, the tension going out of his shoulders as he reached out and pulled me closer to him, arms around my waist. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his hair. We'd almost died today, and I wasn't about to take the fact that we were both still here together for granted.

"Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to have you as my mate?" Az asked, his voice a little gravelly as he leaned in closer to me. I smiled, leaning forward and letting my lips ghost over his own.

"Yeah, actually, you have. But I'll never complain about hearing it again."

Az smirked, then gently closed the last of that distance between us, his lips brushing softly against mine. I leaned into the kiss, eager for more contact, and I could feel Az's smirk widening right before I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as tight to his body as possible, and I tangled my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept up in him.

I'd meant every word I'd said to my mate, about the choice he'd made and how I felt about it. But I was also incredibly happy it hadn't come down to the cost of our lives, and that we'd made it out of there together. And now that Official Night Court Business had been taken care of, I intended to fully celebrate and appreciate Azriel, and the fact that we were still here together. And I knew he intended to do the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[mommyofkittens]

A Court of Fallen Heroes: Chapter 9- The Third One

𓆩✴𓆪

Author's POV:

          Venom...  A chilled shadow crept through his sweat-soaked hair, whispering velvety in his ear. Azriel turned his weary gaze to the obsidian weapons, hanging at the guard's hips. Their equally dark armor, probably made of the same cursed material, glowed faintly as they passed any candles or windows. The moon watched over him like a stern mother, hoping for the best for her son.

          Faebane... Another companion spoke directly into his mind, snaking quickly down his searing spine. He subconsciously thanked her for the icy path she left on his clammy skin, cooling him enough to allow his mind to think more clearly.

          It had been more than twenty hours since he had eaten or had ten minutes of deep, uninterrupted sleep. He was used to these episodes of insomnia, he knew where his limits were and he knew how to help his body survive exhaustion, but with the hunger gnawing at his stomach he could hardly cope. 

          He was so getting a vacation after he went back to the Night Court. 

          Azriel stumbled to keep up with the guards escorting him from the gate. They were a head shorter than him, and perhaps those bulky armors hindered them in every way. Still, they were probably cleaner than his Illyrian skins, which seemed to mold over the film of sweat that had formed underneath. Azriel refrained from wrinkling his nose. He hated feeling stinky.

          As he considered the color mismatch between the exceptionally clean burgundy carpet and the brown velvet curtains, he also noticed the way the mosaic on the windows and ceiling changed as they moved through different areas of the palace. It smelled nauseatingly of burning incense, sage, and something rotten and damp. Azriel searched until he reached the corners of the marble floors, where he noticed the musty flowers they tried to hide.

          There was death inside the palace.

           Azriel thought about the list of dangers he had made up in his head that would prevent him from getting out of the royal court alive if he had to escape. Not even his wings would help him, as they would be the first target of all the trained archers in the outer court.

          He didn't have to turn around to count the scars that stretched like a mosaic along the hard Illyrian membrane, the way the brown was patched with dark red spots, aerodynamically weaker than the rest of the healthy tissue. He could still feel some of them, running deep into the marrow, like a ghostly rash that constantly reminded him of past nefarious circumstances. It sounded like he was adding another five hundred centuries to the ones he already had. Azriel knew that torn ligaments and sword wounds could heal too tightly and viciously, restricting certain movements. All of this ached during training, or in his prematurely short hours of sleep, even when it rained, thanks to changes in barometric pressure. He knew with frightening accuracy how, for whom, and when he got al those scars. He liked to keep track of everything, it was in his nature.

          Azriel felt his wings a few pounds heavier, and he fought to keep his tired shoulders straight so as not to drag his bony tips across the marble floor. He wouldn't have minded scratching at the perfection of this palace, but to the Illyrians it was a sign of weakness he would not allow.

          Turning his gaze back to the glass, he saw them again, shining under the crescent moon. Four pairs of towers surrounded the main hall of the palace, and as far as he could tell, the archers were only mounted in the outer towers, relying more on being useful over a longer radius. In the smaller towers, huge bells lay black as night, no natural light reflecting in the darkness of the material. In Azriel's mind, the worst-case scenario emerged. He imagined that the sound it produced would be loud enough to overwhelm the delicate hearing of a fae, loud enough that any danger in the vicinity would be killed in seconds by guards on the walls armed with sharp spears, swords, and daggers.

          And he hadn't seen their magic system yet.

           These were just a few of the small details that made Azriel sit as stiff as a bow and as still as a river, ready to turn at any moment. He was pleased with himself, his plan had worked. It had been easier than he had expected, setting himself up as a target in front of the bridge and allowing himself to be escorted by six guards into the heart of the palace, relying perhaps too much on the fact that those in charge had been tipped off by the winged man haunting the surrounding villages. His ego seemed a bit bruised, considering the small number of guards around him.

          He counted the curves and doors that stretched from side to side, analyzed the thick glass and the type of fastenings in the walls, and made sure that all the ropes tied to the ceiling were there to support the heavy chandeliers and not for some who-knows-what trap. He was sure his shadows would have warned him of any imminent danger, but now they were just as vigilant, listening, watching, like hunting dogs.

         Azriel knew the rules: he was to be presented to an emergency council unless they had time to raise another king to the throne. He had everything ready, the letter from Rhysand was his ticket in, but the problem was how to escape and how to find the so-called Comet Woman. He hoped no one else knew about her, knew what she could become. If someone found out in the meantime, things could get very, very problematic. It meant he wouldn't be coming home with his hands clean. 

          The man knew she lived here for the past month, retracing all her steps by the scent of amber that lingered in the atmosphere. There were certain areas so much more concentrated, so much more filled with her presence, so tangible that Azriel could almost see her faded face, as if he were standing behind a curtain in which he could just make out her outline. The shadows had led him to a wooden threshold with a barely legible sign carved with the simple word 'Potions'. Azriel caught the humor and almost snorted: the one he sought was indeed a sorcerer, which was why it had been so easy for her to slip past their protection, to sneak into the house when he slept so soundly, to haunt him for weeks.

          He wouldn't have left without her, after getting so close that he could feel her brittle bones crumbling under his strong fingers. If he played his cards right, like a true diplomat and not a thirsty assassin, he could walk out of the wolf's mouth with his head still on his shoulders and the great trophy won.

          He paused for a few seconds in front of a polished wooden door, surrounded by ancient phrases carved into the holster. There was a brief exchange of glances between the man to his right and the guard in the hallway. He allowed himself to roll his stiff neck. He had been in the palace for more than ten minutes and still no sound, no servant, no Fae of any rank. What was everyone doing? 

          " Raise your arms! " The man to his left commands as he rests his hand on the scabbard of his sword, his eyes quickly scanning Azriel's body. " Remove your cloak and slowly present your weapons. "

           Azriel made no gesture as he nimbly unbuttoned the gold button that held his traveling cloak, then removed his knives and swords from his armor and placed them according to size on the low table by the door.

          A guard comes too close for Azriel's liking, counting the equipment in the torchlight. He lifts his eye shield over his head, revealing tawny irises and the smell of sour wine. " Are you planning an uprising? You brought an arsenal. ''

          '' No. '' Azriel said casually, rearranging the crooked line of daggers with a finger, '' I just can't sleep without them. ''

          The guard gave him a puzzled look, sensing Azriel's wry humor, then shook his head and put the torch away. He hoped there was no spell inside that would block his access to the other realm, where he had left allof  his most important tools, undetectable and ready to use at a moment's notice. The colleague, who smelled of cheap wine, took his hand off the sword and pulled on his gloves, then began to search Azriel's body. 

          ''Don't touch my wings,'' he warned them coldly, watching their slow movements closely.

          The individual paused for a second, trying to decide whether or not to take the mountain of a man in front of him seriously, then seemed to make the right decision and carefully circled the base of his wings on his back. He was aware that his life was not important enough to be judged by the royal court if the famous Shadowsinger decided to break his neck with his bare hands. Besides, there was his reputation: no one wanted to mess with the fragile nerves of a torturer. 

           The Shadowsinger didn't take his fierce gaze away from the guard's curious hands. In fact, he was annoyed that they were hovering too long over places he certainly did not want to be touched, but he could not afford to lose control when he was so close to fulfilling his plan. No one could test his iron patience. He could feel his skin soaking with sweat and dust as it ate away at his equipment. He hadn't had a hot bath in days and craved the feeling of cleanliness. And this touchy-feely examination was making it worse.

          After making sure he didn't bring in a butter knife to slit the throats of the entire council, the door was opened and Azriel stepped through, this time accompanied by only two of the six guards. 

          He paused for a moment to take in the new scenery. Surely he had entered the gilded palace street, where the king's closest allies made their home, judging by the imperial colors of bright red, the spotless view and, of course, the lack of musty odors. Gold chandeliers and scented candles were screwed into the marble walls, along with dozens of paintings of portraits and battle scenes. 

          A couple of women, the first Azriel had seen in the fifteen minutes he had been in the palace, emerged from a side room and did not shy away from looking at him from head to toe. Azriel refrained from rolling his eyes, content to look straight ahead without giving them any meaning. The ladies whispered to each other long enough for him to realize that he was the subject of the discussion, more specifically his tights and something about his waist. Even though Azriel was more than used to female attention, even male attention, that didn't mean he wanted it from everyone and everywhere.

          Still, he threw a bone to the dogs and bowed his head like a courtier, eyeing the ladies like a predator disguised under the skin of a gentleman. Oh my, how the perfume of the hallway had changed to something sweeter, more... enticing. Azriel's lips curled just a little as a loud giggle escaped them, enchanted by his attention. 

          Azriel doesn't get to take a few steps before an all-too-familiar smell hits his senses hard: nutmeg and... burning coals. Azriel sighs deeply and prays to the Mother that he won't find what he already expected to find somewhere nearby. His instincts rarely failed him. Maybe he'd finally found the reason to end this male's existence after the meeting of the High Lords months ago. His discovery would only add fuel to an already smoldering fire that could reignite any second back in Prythian, And possibly make Azriel's job a little more difficult if this redhead started sticking his nose into his affairs.

          The muffled voices seemed to contradict each other just after the left turn where the smell of fresh food came from. There were many more people on this side of the palace, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to locate the source. The scent, which could only have come from a fae, given how strong it was, began to intertwine with something softer, barely tangible, as if this person had no personality or will of their own. It had a subtle hue, barely discernible, like plants and leaves. No, not just the kind you grow everywhere, but the ones that love dry summers and cool winters, a plant that only the most special person in the world would know how to plant and grow for him. Saffron, he concluded, a plant that lives in the mountains and that for him meant freedom, however temporary.

          He didn't dare close his eyes to block out the memories. Every moment of weakness was just another knife between his shoulder blades. Azriel gritted his teeth and pushed every thought away. He subtly sniffed the bittersweet scent that took him to the same place where those sunken voices could be heard.

          The first guard stopped in front of him as he rounded the corner, probably slightly startled by the image he saw in the next corridor. Azriel stepped cautiously, his eyes taking in every detail of the stained glass until he came to a familiar clump of red hair. He couldn't help but sigh.

          An awkward moment of silence fell over all the participants. Azriel felt the urge to hit someone, especially the one who was now standing there nonchalantly, as if he had done nothing wrong.

          '' Well, I see Rhysand has sent his brutes out to play. '' His words, laced with mocking humour, did him no good as Azriel tried hard not to step on his throat again. '' What wind blows you here, Shadowsinger? ''

          The raven-haired man didn't respond to his challenge at first, watching the intimate scene unfold before them: an insultingly small body trapped between Vanserra's tall frame and the marble sculpture of a naked fairy. The woman struggled to cover her face with the red mask he knew all palace servants wore for some reason, then pulled the folds of her dress tighter, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. In his mind, he guessed the reason they were forced to wear that uniform. It was easier not to know who was disappearing, it was easier to kill someone who was lost in a landscape where a thousand others looked the same. It was easier to get murdered.

          '' Are you all right, girl? '' Azriel deliberately ignored Eris, any conversation with this traitor would only end in blood and not otherwise. 

          The woman didn't answer, didn't even look at him, as if she hadn't heard him at all. He was slightly offended by the lack of response, but overlooked it as she was probably on edge from whatever magic Vanserra had put on her.

          One of the guards approached the maid menacingly, ready to strike. " Our guest gives you permission to speak by engaging you in conversation and you dare not answer? You disgusting human! "

          Eris jumps up to stand between the guard and the woman, smiling sardonically. " She can't speak, Draegan cut out her tongue. "

          " Of course King Draegan cut out her tongue if she doesn't know when and how to use it! " The other man shouts from behind his mask.

          " Calm down! There's no need to throw a tantrum because a woman rejects you. " Azriel intervenes, freeing himself from captivity. " I think I can find my way from here. "

          " I don't think is wise... "

          " You're not here to think, you're here to guard, and I'm inoffensive. Lord Vanserra can vouch for that. " Azriel intensifies his look, turning his back to the guards. " And I left my entire arsenal by the doors, remember? "

          " I'll take care of him, don't worry. " Eris grunted, crossing his hands over his green tunic. " Men like him are as harmless as a bear: they don't bite unless you find their lair. "

          The men nodded sceptically and turned back. He felt Eris stiffen beside him, as if he'd been waiting for someone to catch him cheating at cards.

          " Let the girl go. " Azriel spoke grimly, not turning to look at them. " She shouldn't be here. "

          " She's where she's supposed to be. " Eris replied dryly, already irritated by Azriel's tendency to twist his words, then left a theatrical kiss on the woman's cheek.

          The girl seems to push him away for a second, then pulls her hand back, hiding it between the thick folds of her black dress.

        " I don't think you're where you're supposed to be. " Azriel didn't seem to want to back down, so he turned his full attention to the Heir of the Autumn Court, irritated by his idiotic answers.

          " True. " Eris admitted, covering the woman almost completely. " But I could say the same about you. King Draegan is waiting for both of us in the dining hall. "

         " Oh, you already share a bond with these criminals. " The man concluded, nodding slightly. " You still haven't told me why you're here. " 

          " Go, little human, I'll find you later. " Vanserra hugged her too lovingly, resting his huge palm on the woman's small face.

          A violent feeling ran through Azriel as he watched these gestures: fear, fear for this woman who didn't know what she was getting into, who was always in danger of being crushed by Eris or someone else from this cruel continent. A fragile human once again caught between the fingers of a fae. These stories caused a sick feeling of anxiety in his stomach, not because he cared, but because he knew history was about to repeat itself. He watched her short legs move hastily to the servant's door, avoiding eye contact with the fae around her, trying her best to pass unnoticed. Azriel was almost nervous for her. 

          Don't be clumsy. Don't be loud. Leave as soon as you can. I'll pay you ten times your salary if you just leave. Azriel sang in his head, but it was in vain, she couldn't hear him and he couldn't do much more for now.

          " Do you hear me? " Eris's voice grows a little louder, but something else catches Azriel's attention.

          The woman stops suddenly, eyes wide with shock as if she had seen someone naked, and looks around in confusion. Azriel frowns, Eris' words flying past him. She turns slightly toward them, and for a brief moment Azriel can finally see her troubled eyes: round as a full moon and fiery as a burning sun, but their color was what set them apart - gray, like an inviting sea that hides treacherous dangers. 

          Then she disappeared, like a ghost between the walls. 

          A few moments later, he realized that his shadows had become silent, resting, waiting, as if they were hoping, and then vanished from his surroundings completely. It seemed bizarre to Azriel, and he felt lonelier than he would have liked.

         " What are you doing here, Eris? "

         " Same as you - business. I know you're not here for pleasure or anything, you won't find a happy place here. " Eris Vanserra seemed to slap him as he gave him a tight smile. Azriel stiffened his mental, emotional and psychic shields and the shadows reappeared. " I want to know more about Hybern. They are weak and few. I want to have an advantage when the time comes. "

          " Just say you're here to spy on them and cut the crap. " Azriel strode after Eris, who knew the palace corridors disturbingly well. " Except I still wouldn't believe anything that came out of your mouth. "

          " I don't need you to believe me or the approval of the Night Court. This isn't about the Morrigan anymore. " Eris turned abruptly, almost bumping into Azriel who was behind him. " Another war is coming, something worse is happening right now, and I want to know how we can win. If we can. "

          Azriel's alarm rang in his ears. Did Eris know more about the Fallen Star than he was letting on?

          " Hybern was our enemy months ago, don't tell me you want to have them as allies. It's like trusting a rabid animal. " Azriel stopped him with a gloved hand before they stepped through another huge door. " They are the reason more than half of our armies have been destroyed. "

          He wanted to say a few more words to Eris, but that was a discussion he would have another time, in a much more secluded place and under more permissible circumstances, where he could use acts of physical violence. He couldn't ask him enough questions to find out what he knew, or if he knew anything.

          " I'm aware of that, but they don't have the Cauldron to do that kind of damage again. Anyway, this is not the place to discuss the matter in detail. Give me more time before you turn me in. "

          He didn't want Rhysand to find out that Eris was here, actively betraying everyone. He couldn't do that, it was a luxury he couldn't afford.

          " This new king, Draegan. He knows something we do not. He may have an advantage we do not. Let me find out what it is. "

          As another pair of huge doors opened before their eyes, Azriel suddenly felt tired. A huge table lay before him, decorated with plates and glasses far too full for his taste. Oriental flavors and far too much food awaited him, and the servants - both women and men - moved around in disturbing circles of clattering, chattering, and chopping.

          Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to them, hidden in that semi-obscure atmosphere of burning candles and the barely audible strains of a violin. Azriel wanted to turn around and leave, he didn't have the energy to go through all that was about to come, but he had no other choice. 

          " Sometimes I hate it too. " Eris whispered, with the same smile that now seemed forced, and started to walk to the only two empty seats that were too close to the already occupied one at the end of the table. The big chair that actually mattered.

          Azriel couldn't really see him, the king, hiding behind all this charade of music and dimmed lights and fae. But he could feel the sudden change in the air around him, too heavy to breathe and full of something evil. His shadows circled his vital points like a vise, shielding him as best as they could.

          " Glad to hear it. " Azriel spits back at Eris and turns away, unfazed by the reproachful looks.

          Azriel noticed the ladies from the hallway, watching him with lustful glances and scandalous promises. The creatures already seated at the table, all different kinds of fae, smiled at them all knowingly, bowed their glasses to them like hyenas tempting their prey. Indecent dresses, precious stones, tunics sewn with gold and silver thread, violinists with handcuffs on their feet and pianists with bandaged fingers. An unpleasant and painful sight. Someone proposed a toast and silence fell over the room. The two suddenly stopped, side by side, as if they had been caught sneaking into the banquet.

          " My dear friends and advisors... Tonight I'd like to introduce two special guests. Two soldiers who are willing to present their offers of peace for our kingdom, offers that I intend to accept. " A dark-haired man with square features rose from the imperial chair at the end of the table and gestured for them to sit beside him.

           Draegan... The brave shadow crawled through his hair, sitting on his head like a crown of darkness.

          Azriel takes a deep breath. How stupid of him to think that the Night Court would try to win a place next to those abominations of faes. He hated talking to men of high rank. They were far too full of themselves, they spoke coded most of the time, and the part that really drove him crazy was their facade. Far too much politeness, far too many fake smiles, and duplicitous opinions. He was too old for all the political games, but tonight he had to get into his role.

         " So you're here to make peace with these? " Azriel whispered so quietly that only Eris could hear, and began to push himself toward the red velvet chair. " They slaughtered our people. "

          " You slaughter people for fun. At least I'm productive. "

          " I hope your productivity kills you. " Azriel almost pointed his sharp canines at Eris, but refrained at the last moment. "And I hope it kills you before you leave this place. "

          Azriel walks to the farthest place from the so-called king. This man seemed unfit for such a title: too young, too vulgar, and too innovative for a land deeply rooted in tradition.

          " At least you're here with me and I won't feel alone in my dying moments. " Eris smiled jockingly and bowed his head.

          " I am more than happy to find you in such a festive mood, King Draegan. " Azriel bowed very slightly, as if any bowing would cause him terrible knee pain. " May all the year be as prosperous as you are at this moment. "

          A muscle twitches in Draegan's face. If he had made it this far without anyone standing between him and the throne, he had convinced his people that he would be a trustworthy leader. Who knows what means of persuasion he had actually used.

           Draegan smiled knowingly and gestured for Eris to take a seat at the table. " May all your blades be at hand when you need them the most. " A wry smile almost crept across Azriel's face. The game started earlier than expected.

         " You have no idea how pleased I am to have not one, but two emissaries from Prythian at my table. " The man smiled, showing his straight teeth, and poured the red wine into the golden cups himself. " You must be Azriel, the trustworthy and last of his kind Shadowsinger. I've heard enough about you and... your loyal companions. "

          " All wounds heal. " Someone from the table interjected, raising his cup. " May this meeting heal us all. "

          " Indeed, Lord Charon. " Vanserra agreed with the former, older participant, then turned back to watch Draegan.

          His shadows swirled around Azriel's neck, stirred by the ease with which the king spoke about them. The Shadowsinger eyed the speaker, noting his many medals and muscular frame. In return, Lord Charon gave him a compassionate smile, toothy and wide, showing all the wrinkles on his round face. 

          By the Mother, Eris Vanserra seduced half the court of Hybern.

          " After hearing so much about my business, I find it hard to believe that you are very excited about my unannounced arrival. " Azriel replied monotonously, placing a gloved hand on his crystal goblet. His boldest shadow jumped from his forearms and surrounded the glass.

          " No poison. " Draegan announced displeasedly, drawing his dark gaze to the dark tongue of shadow circling the freshly poured wine. " This is no way to greet your guests. "

          Safe...

          The Shadowsinger turned his head cautiously, looking for some food on the table, which was barely holding together due to the numerous dishes. Did the people outside the palace have as many goods as those inside?

         " What determined your unannounced visit? " Draegan leaned back and gestured for the others to continue their conversation. " I must admit, I was intrigued by the rumors. "

         Azriel knew that though they all seemed to be deep in their own discussions of land, property, and business, their hungry ears were tuned to the three of them, their senses were intoxicated by his ominous presence, and every fleeting corner of their eyes was focused on him.

          " My High Lord and High Lady wish to send you a letter - of peace. " Azriel rolled out the words as sweetly as possible and handed him the envelope marked with the royal court seal.

          " So many offers. " The king chuckled lightly, but didn't open the envelope. " Why didn't they come themselves? "

          Among the many candles melting on the tablecloth, he caught the glances of the diners around him. He noticed the cautious way they had begun to behave: eating in silence, wearing straight smiles and speaking in hushed tones. Some glanced at him out of the corners of their eyes, while others dared to admire him fully, allowing Azriel to sniff their disgusting fear.

          " Well, it's no secret that everyone is rebuilding their kingdoms after the devastating war. Politics and people can't wait, their homes are ruined and laws are old and terrible, they don't apply anymore. So they're doing their best to solve these problems. "

          " What about Velaris? The Hidden Treasure, is it as destroyed as the rest of the Night Court? " A question flies across the table, raising the hairs on Azriel's neck.

          " Who determines what people can live there? It's unfair for some to get the chance to stay safe and happy and other innocent lives to pay the price of not being lucky enough.  " Lord Charon throws the hardest question at Azriel,

          Azriel bites back an angry reply. These people were talking about innocent lives when they were killing dozens every day, not to mention that bitch, Amarantha, their own, worse than all of them.

          " Like I said, the laws are old, the city is as old as the law. Everything needs to be rebuilt. Everyone needs a chance to survive, to be happy, to be safe. The Night Court is working hard to rebuild everything from the ground. "

          Vanserra almost spits his food on the table, trying to hold back a laugh. " Let's not dig up the graves. Both continents made mistakes. The Night Court is working hard. " Eris backs Azriel up only to speak under his breath, using the music so only the winged male can hear. " That's why the Night Court is divided into the one of Nightmares and the one made for Dreamers. "

          Icy rage fills Azriel's veins, and it takes everything he has not to stab Eris with a real butter knife found on the table. He knew that the way people were allowed to live in Velaris was a flawed system, as were the Illyrian camps and the way women were treated there. But his words on these matters meant next to nothing if no one actually listened to his or Cassian's opinions.

          " Everyone needs a second chance, I think. " Draegan interjects as he raises his goblet to his mouth. " It's better to have friends, not enemies. I'd like to visit this place once. If I'm allowed, of course. "

           The Shadowsinger only nods, drinking heavily from that shitty wine, hoping to calm his stretched nerves. 

         " To what occasion do we dedicate this meal, Draegan? " Eris began as he eagerly carved a piece of lemon-glazed lamb, trying to ease the tension around the table.

         Azriel plunged his fork into a well-browned potato, passing through numerous spicy condiments. He'd forgotten the etiquette of high society, so he'd forgotten how polite it was to actually take food, not just look at it. He sniffed the piece of vegetable lightly, guessing pepper and something resembling turmeric, a spice grown exclusively in the Montessere. He popped the potato into his mouth and enjoyed the burst of flavor.

          He was starving, but he couldn't afford to eat everything on the table. If there was the slightest chance of being poisoned, at least the vegetables would have been digested faster and everything would have been disposed of even faster.

          The king laughed. Azriel cringed. " Well, aside from celebrating new bonds... Remember I told you today that someone broke into my room? "

          Azriel raised an eyebrow and looked at the man at the head of the table. He was glad the topic of conversation had changed. Shadows continued to swirl around him, clinging to his thighs and forearms, seemingly ready to draw his daggers at any moment.

          Draegan's golden crown decorated with rubies sat on his head full of brown curls. The burgundy tunic he wore and the shadows cast on his face by the candles seemed to send him into a realm of madness.

            There was a sudden movement as the guards closed the doors and the diners began to stir, startled by the turn of events.

          Eris stopped eating and resigned himself to look around, stunned and dumbfounded. More guards appeared from behind the stone columns holding up the balcony above, pointing crossbows at everyone's head.

          Azriel, though stiff, leans back in his chair, like a deadly weapon latently waiting to be used. He knew from the moment he walked inside that something would go wrong, that someone would die tonight. Maybe that's why he felt this urge to save the servant, this pity for her.

          A few screams rang out in the high room as the guards ruthlessly grabbed the maids who were bringing wine and food to the table and ordered them in a line down the hall. The silver trays tumbled to the floor with a dizzying high-pitched clatter, the cups now empty, and the red wine that had once filled them quickly spread everywhere, soaking the carpets and seeping through the cracks in the marble.

          " Dear participants, I don't want to give you a bad first impression, but I despise stealing. You see, one of those whores came into my room looking for something. " Draegan rose from his velvet chair and took a few steps toward the women, who were trembling. " You stole from me. "

           Suddenly, he slapped the first servant in line so hard that the silly hat she was wearing flew off her head, revealing her aged, white hair. The woman was off balance for a second, stunned by the powerful blow, but did not react. Her legs had turned to jelly and she was now hovering above the floor in a half genuflection, so the guard behind her tightened his grip on her forearms, forced to support her.

          The armored man behind her was as cold as this entire palace. Azriel felt no hint of guilt emanating from him, not even reproach, not even pleasure. Azriel quickly realized that there was something different about the guards here: the material of the armor was covered in onyx from head to toe, a trick to keep the Daemati out of their minds, but also to keep the smells they gave off from being detected.

          The Shadowsinger clenches his fists under his chair. " Shouldn't Your Highness solve your problem somewhere private? ". Azriel tries to ease the tension and give these women a chance to get as far away from the palace as possible tonight, but he doubted they would make it out alive. He looked at the burgundy stain of drink that was now all over the place and horror gripped him, there was really nothing he could do to stop the next events from unfolding.

          He couldn't do much without losing his own credibility. His mission was at stake, to find the Fallen Star, and that was more important than anything else at the moment. Once again, he felt like a child trapped in a dungeon.

          " Or perhaps more diplomatically, given the presence of our new guest? " Eris also jumped to Azriel's aid, standing up as if to climb out of his chair.

          Azriel watched where Vanserra tended to peer from time to time, as if hoping to find an escape hatch for the person in question. Glancing carefully over all the participants in this atrocity, he sensed that something was off: there was a disturbing sense of calm among them, but who could be so.... detached?

          " Don't you dare tell me how to run my kingdom! " Draegan's head turned like a whip on their table, his pointed gaze raised in accusation. " I have been nothing but kind, and everyone seems eager to step over me! "

           For a second, he would have thought the king was the calm one, but he smelled like a sewer on a hot day, as if his irritation was boiling up all the hatred inside him. Vanserra hid his panic all too well, but his eyes usually spoke louder than his smart mouth, so all he could feel were smoldering coals, red as burning lava. Azriel put a gloved finger to his lips and calculated again. The participants at the table, though technically accustomed to such excursions, were as frightened as lambs at the sight of a wolf for the first time, sweat and mischief dripping from every pore.

          Oh, that was it. Azriel tapped his forefinger against his lower lip in satisfaction. A devastating storm of sea-blue smoke was about to drown Draegan and drag him into the deepest oceans.

          " Please, my king... " The first woman wriggled, palms outstretched and rosy cheeks pleading for mercy. " I would never do such a thing. I have children to feed. I wouldn't dare. "

          " Charon, bring me her eldest child. " Draegan ordered grimly, without a second thought. " Lock them both in the dungeon, without food or water. I will give you further instructions. "

          The woman wailed uncontrollably, falling to her knees and soaking the king's leather shoes with her salty tears. The guard could not restrain her, but Draegan did, sending her into a deep sleep with a boot in her jaw.

          Eris closed her eyes at the breaking sound and took a deep breath. Azriel didn't allow himself to close them anymore, he needed enough hate to annihilate them all at the first opportunity.

          He noticed the reason for Eris's panic as she stood one woman away from what was now a pile of flesh on the ground. Curiously, he rolled his eyes restlessly over the six women until he reached the third in line. She now shifted her gaze, keeping her head in the ground as if trying to burn a hole in the thick marble and get underneath. He studied her for a long moment, never taking his eyes off her reactions. Her heartbeat was so tightly controlled that neither the scent of fear, nor stress came from her. Azriel was slightly impressed. This woman could control herself very well, but he could see through her, the way her wrists were tense, the way her thick eyebrows were raised to her forehead, the agony she went through to keep her steamy eyes from rising, how difficult it was for her to control herself.

          Azriel's eyebrows rose slightly. This was where that dangerous, deaf, wild oasis of calm came from. She looked as if she knew what everyone's next move would be, waiting for the inevitable to happen and free her from her torment. Could she be the woman he was looking for?

          Azriel rested his elbows on the table and kept his eyes on her. A helpless, small woman, without courage, without the strength to save the situation, too slow to save herself, too timid, too weak. Disappointing, he thought, he expected more from a myth.

          " What were you looking for? Sex? " Draegan clung to the second with all his might and began to fondle her breasts thirstily. " You wanted to have fun with me? You see brothers, the news that I have a big dick sends these ladies into a frenzy, looking for trouble. "

          Azriel was deeply disgusted, and so was Eris, who took a generous sip of wine without taking his eyes off the third maid. A bond formed between the two as the woman raised her head briefly, generously giving him permission to be calm, as if everything was under control. The Shadowsinger almost snorted. It was as if he could hear those burning coals eagerly leaping from the fire, waiting to be summoned.

          If Eris wanted to start a second war here and now, he had every reason to do so. And the worst part was that Azriel would help him, no matter what. Faes like that just cast a shadow on the ground for nothing.

          The rest of the guests begin to laugh, making indecent jokes that seem to feed Draegan's ego.

         " Be in my room after dinner. " Draegan made a show of whispering something in her ear, loud enough to be humiliating to the second girl, who was shivering like she was getting hypothermia by the second. " And bring the blonde, Aoife. She'll teach you what I like. "

          Tears as bitter as the first woman's began to wet her burgundy mask. Azriel was beginning to feel he couldn't take it anymore, but something caught his attention. The third lifted her head fully and glared at Draegan with the most venomous gaze. It looked as if she wanted to tear the sky in two above the new king's head. So this Aoife was special for her and wanted revenge for whatever she had done to her friend.

          When the king finally reached her, he was met by those gray, icy, murderous eyes. He stumbled over his words, as if he'd actually hit a wall of ice, and stared at her for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe what the madwoman in front of him had just done. There was a silent conversation between them that lasted so long that even the roar from the table stopped to watch.

        Eris swallowed dryly and covered his mouth with a hand. Azriel could swear he was trembling with impatience. Obviously he had warned her about her behavior.

        Draegan tilts his head to the side, intrigued by her bold gesture. " You have pretty eyes. You should be more careful if you want to keep them. " He spoke after a moment, aggressively grabbing her jaw and bending her head enough to leave a wet kiss on her mask. " You're next tomorrow night. "

          Vanserra looked lividly at her, at that disgusting stain of saliva on her mask. His agitation vanished, as if Draegan had poured water over the smoldering coals. She looked back at him with blank eyes and nodded slightly. She could handle it.

          There will be no tomorrow night, Azriel suspected, either Eris will do something that will cost him his head, or this woman will do something that will burn the palace to the ground. Or maybe both. He was running out of time.

         When Draegan moved on to the next woman, the third one no longer looked down, but stared at Azriel with her huge eyes. Azriel held her gaze for a long time until Draegan pulled a necklace from the fourth woman's pocket. None of the three looked at the stunning discovery. It did not shock any of them. 

          Eris dropped his head, tired of watching the next bloody minutes unfold among them. Guilt was written everywhere: on Vanserra's face, on Azriel's actions, in the eyes of the third servant, even on these damned walls. They all watched as that innocent woman was mercilessly killed for something she didn't do.

          Another burden to carry, another soul wasted. No one was going to notice, they all looked the same after all. That cursed uniform... But Azriel knew immediately that the third woman was the one who stole from Draegan's room. And that Eris Vanserra was her accomplice.

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

Part 2

~~

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain. 

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you. 

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense. 

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before. 

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?” 

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low. 

“And what’s that?” 

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.” 

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles. 

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.” 

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace. 

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat. 

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.” 

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him. 

“Maybe we would.” 

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets. 

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.” 

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night. 

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused. 

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.” 

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that. 

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back. 

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked. 

He had to be in love with her. 

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things. 

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.” 

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words. 

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.” 

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.” 

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms. 

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.” 

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.” 

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.” 

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears. 

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink. 

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard. 

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water? 

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk. 

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own. 

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?” 

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.” 

“Liar.” 

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?” 

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”  

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.” 

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.” 

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed. 

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.” 

~~

The following days were… strange to say the least. 

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot. 

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her. 

You were so, so right. 

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange. 

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one. 

Well, other than Elain. 

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway. 

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel. 

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence. 

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?” 

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.” 

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?” 

That was new. 

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago. 

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.” 

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.” 

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel. 

Something about it felt… wrong. 

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.” 

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.” 

“What does that—” 

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened… 

You shuddered at the thought. 

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris. 

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes. 

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack. 

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued. 

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!” 

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages. 

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief. 

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.” 

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.” 

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?” 

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face. 

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.” 

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.” 

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain. 

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago. 

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out. 

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief. 

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in. 

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?” 

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?” 

“Oh. No. Not as bad.” 

“And how is everyone else?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever. 

“Are you okay?” you asked instead. 

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others. 

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore. 

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make. 

[heartless-tate]

Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed  as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought  four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than  you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙