#acmaf

[azsazz]

Tonight I'm So Lonely (Part 2)

Cassian x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to the One-Liner Anon Request: This is so cliche but what about “of course it’s you.” for your writing exercise 😙

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,306

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You turn towards your brother, eyes sparkling with tears, shining much like the stars framing you from behind. “Why wouldn’t he tell anyone?”

Your name is a soft exhale from your brother's lips, and you fall into his open arms instantly. Clutching him back as tightly as he’s hugging you, you realize that you’ve missed him more than you ever noticed before. Fighting with Rhys and being ignored by Cassian has taken a toll on you, and your eyes slide shut as you try to stop the tears from spilling over. “I don’t know why. Does he know?”

You nod against his shoulder, throat too tight with emotion to speak. It feels like a cavern in your chest, your heart cracking and caving in upon itself, mirror to how you’d felt when your mother had been murdered before your very eyes. 

“I know he knows, Rhys. I can feel him sometimes, even when he thinks he’s blocking me out.” 

Sometimes, when Cassian forgets that you’re his, you can feel every hit he’s taking during a particularly rough training session, the soreness in his bones, the splitting of the skin across his knuckles when he fights. You can feel his utter joy when he’s having a night with Rhys and Azriel, the laughter they share and the dizziness that comes with bottles of fae wine.

But mostly, you can feel how lonely he is. That flicker of pain that could be your own when he catches sight of you and turns the other way. When he sits down the table from you as far as he can so that he doesn’t even have to look at you, the tremble of his soul as it fights from his chest, reaching out to you when he’s trying so desperately to pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhys answers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Then, “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No,” you answer quickly, pulling away from him. He doesn’t let you go, though, hands planted on your shoulders in a comforting manner. The sight of his glittering crown is obnoxious, and you’d normally snort at him, teasing him for wearing it, but tonight, it gives you an idea. “But I will need your help cornering him.”

***

“I wanted to talk to you before I told anyone.”

“But you haven’t.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Cassian curses, running his fingers through his wind-blown hair. His digits snag on the tangles and he winces, tugging them out instead to work at the belt of his sheath, needing something to fidget with to expel some of this nervous energy.

His heart slams in his chest just being in your presence. He never thought he’d find his mate, never thought it would be his High Lord’s little sister. Someone he’s grown up with and hadn’t looked at as more than a nuisance until the both of you had matured and he’d really seen you for who you are; beautiful and a lot more worthy than anything he can give you. 

Finding you lying in crimson spilt snow was his worst nightmare come true. Each breath was agony and his fingers trembled so hard that the sword he had gripped in firm fingers had fallen to the ground. If Tamlin and his family had still been at the scene Cassian wouldn’t have been able to fight them off, he would’ve gladly accepted his fate too, knowing in that moment that if he didn’t have you around, he didn’t want to be either.

But it hadn’t been until you kissed him that fateful night, when the Night Court had seized the lands they’d lost during the war, that Cassian realized just how much you meant. Long days and nights on the battlefield spent wielding weapons that cut lines through enemy armies, his mind never strayed from you. How you were faring, if you were injured or lying somewhere out on the bloodied field, alone and exhaling your last breath, so close to losing you again.

It terrifies him, the idea of losing something so important not only to him, but to your brother, to the court. 

“It is as simple as that, Cassian,” you argue, “You could’ve just talked to me at any point, instead of running away like a child.”

“You don’t understand,” he chokes, throat tight.

“Then help me understand!” Your chest heaves, cheeks red with frustration. Why won’t he talk to you? Why won’t he tell you what’s going on in that thick head of his? Why is running away from you so much easier than it is to stay?

“I’d rather have my wings torn from my back than to come so close to losing you again!”

Your mouth parts, words caught in your throat. Your chest aches with a thousand wounds as you stare up at him. Cassian’s chest heaves, hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears. You haven’t seen him looking anything close to this since you’d woken up after the incident and he was by your bedside, begging the Mother to let you stay.

“I—”

But Cassian continues, now that the words have started spilling. “You’re…you’re the High Lord’s sister,” he argues, but it’s weak. He’s trying to convince himself, you realize. He won’t look at you, wringing his fingers together nervously. “And I’m just…me.”

“Oh, Cassian,” you coo, reaching out with a hand to caress his face, to tilt his head to meet your gaze, but he pulls away. “You’re the Lord of Bloodshed,” he scoffs at the title, “One of the High Lord’s Inner Circle, but most of all, you’re mine.”

Something breaks in him at your claim. His body slams into yours so fast you can’t prepare. Large, rough hands cup your cheeks and eager lips meet yours as Cassian backs you into the wall.

It takes your mind a moment to catch up, but when he grunts against your lips you snap into motion. Wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him pulled close, you move your mouth against his. It’s hot and desperate. Your teeth brush against his but the feelings quickly replaced with his tongue swooping against yours as it delves into your mouth to explore.

You meet him, keening with pleasure at the touch. His body shudders and his knees nearly give out, relaxing his body weight into you. It’s comfortable, not at all drowning, it’s everything you’ve been wanting for so long, finally within your reach.

Your bond thrums happily in your chest and you can swear you hear his purring. His cock is heavy in his pants and you shiver at the feeling of it pressed into your body. You’ve fantasized about that cock.

Cassian feels like coming home. Like waking up from the longest nap in the world. You haven’t forgiven him, not in the slightest, but his silken hair feels like heaven as you rip the tie from the back of his head. His muscles feel like opening the most precious Starfall gift, rippling beneath your nails as you rake them down his body.

He groans, hands just as desperate to touch. They slide down your sides in a possessive manner, over the round of your ass and beneath your thighs as he grips tightly and lifts you into his arms with the ease of a warrior.

You curse against his mouth and he swallows it greedily, cock swelling in his tight leathers.

“Say it again,” he breathes against your lips.

“What?” you ask, dazed. You angle your head away but he doesn’t let you go far, trailing kisses beneath your ear to keep you close.

“Say that I’m yours again,” he pleads, and you gasp when he bucks his hips against yours as he walks. “Mine, Cassian,” you moan, digging your fingers into his hair once more. “You are mine.”

[ignite-the-stars]

The biggest fantasy element in this book is that the main female character actually has satisfying sex.

[azrielsshadows42]

⚠️ acotar, acomaf, acowar spoilers⚠️ Read at your own risk.

OK, I haven't read acosf yet, so if this sounds stupid, I apologize, but hear me out.

We learn at the end of acomaf that Rhysand makes Feyre high lady of the night court, the first high lady in prythian history.

This happens sometime after under the mountain, but I'm not sure exactly how long, I'm just gonna say a year to make it easier.

In acowar during the high lords meeting, we are introduced to Viviane; Kallias's(winter high lord) mate.

When Feyre is introduced as a high lady Viviane asks why she isn't a high lady too, however-

It is also said that while Kallias was trapped under the mountain, she took over ruling the winter court. She took care of the people, organized their armies, and basically kept the place from falling apart while her mate was gone during an extremely difficult time.

So, for 49 years, she was technically high lady of winter a little over 30 years before Feyre was even born.

While she may not have had the official title, she was a high lady through and through, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

On top of that, not only is she technically the first high lady, but also the first to rule without a high lord by her side.

My point is; Viviane is amazing and if SJM wrote a short novella book on her and Kallias... take my money, just take it.

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Alliance Maker- Chapter 11

Summary: You and Azriel spend time at the black smiths shop before joining Nesta and Cassian for dinner.

Pairing: Slow burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Kinda brushes on child abuse, weapons, alcohol, swearing, sweating and tomfoolery.

Word count: 2382

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Azriel met you on the landing to leave just after breakfast. Brok and Zas were with Lucien in the library. He’d been more than willing to take care of the hounds while you were gone. Nesta and Cassian were training with the Valkyrie and then would be going out to Velaris for the day. You’d be meeting them for a late lunch, early dinner after you and Azriel were done at the black smiths shop. 

Azriel watched as you climbed up onto the railing. You looked down on Velaris and took a deep breath in. He waited for you to bring your wings out but you didn’t. You simply turned around, sent him a wink and threw yourself backwards. His shadows pulled him to the railing before he could protest or go to the ledge himself. But as he looked over the side he saw that you had brought your wings out and were soaring through the air calmly. 

Azriel followed you soon after, taking the lead and guiding you to the blacksmith shop. He explained to the blacksmith that you were here to make a few things. What exactly you wanted to make he wasn’t sure. The blacksmith was obviously hesitant about letting another cauldron made Fae make anything after what happened with Nesta. But as he eyed you and noticed how at peace you looked he couldn’t say no. 

You thought about keeping the gloves you wore on your hands. But you knew that you wanted to feel the fluid motions of forging in your bare palm. As you slipped the gloves off you focused on not letting your hands shake. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way Azriel surveyed your hands. The wounds that marked them were plenty, tiny scars here and there but Azriel’s eyes narrowed in on the large almost perfectly circular angry scars in the center of your hand, the palm and the back. He wasn’t sure what they were from; it was obvious it had been brutal though. 

The shadows that seemed to remain a steady presence with you wrapped around your hands quickly. You let them wrap through your fingers and over the scars and you did not flench. As they slipped back up to your wrists you thanked them. 

A low sigh left your lips before you started on an art you had mastered years ago. Azriel watched you move through the room silently. It was as though you were dancing across the room, like this is where you were most comfortable. With every motion you seemed to slip farther into a trance. He wondered how you had learned to be so silent. Your feet didn’t make a noise as you parried around the room. 

The blacksmith stood in the doorway and watched you. He was surprised to see someone moving around his shop like they owned it as well. He hadn’t seen someone with such natural talent in a long time. 

You pounded away and before they knew it you had made two daggers, a short sword and a scythe. The daggers both held a single siphon in the pommels. He hadn’t questioned why you chose to put them in the daggers instead of on leathers like he and Cassian had done. They were your siphons and yours to use how you saw fit. 

You brought a towel up to your face that the blacksmith had brought you and wiped the sweat away from the skin. The shadows had helped you stay cool for the most part but you had been working hard and steady so sweating was inevitable. You stood back with both hands on your hips and surveyed the weapons in front of you. You ran your hand along the scythe before nodding your head in approval. 

“Could I please get the bill?” Your eyes were laid upon the black smith now. Who gave you a truly bewildered look. 

“You don’t have to pay for any of this.” He seemed utterly surprised you’d even asked. You were the one that had put in all the work afterall. 

“I used your materials. I would like to pay for them.” You didn’t leave it up for debate and with a huff the blacksmith was off gathering a bill. 

“How did you learn to be so silent?” Azriel asked you, you blinked at him in surprise as this was the first he’d spoken to you all morning. 

“The only time I was able to move around freely was when my parents were asleep. So I learned how to quiet my steps.” Your hands flexed and Azriel spied a flame in both before they disappeared like they’d never been there at all. But he realized that was all you were going to say about your childhood so he didn’t press further. 

“After I escaped Hybern my friend helped me master the changes being a fae brought me. He showed me how to mask my heartbeat and scent as well.” You thought back to the months after you had escaped Hybern. The way you had to heal and the High Fae that had helped you through it all. Azriel seemed inclined to ask you another question but shut his mouth as the black smith walked back in. 

“Here ya go.” He handed you the bill and you surveyed it quickly before signing the bottom. 

“Who is Archibald Tolsin?” Azriel piped up from behind you as he eyed the name you signed. 

“My friend.” Was the only answer you gave him and he could tell you wouldn’t say anything else about the matter. 

“Can this stuff be sent to the house of wind?” You asked Azriel as you once again eyed the weapons before you. 

“I can arrange for that.” Azriel’s voice carried through the room and you nodded your head at him in thanks. You snatched up the daggers and pocketed them both in smooth calculated motions.

“We outta get going or we’ll miss lunch.” You had already started walking through the building to the doors. Azriel followed after you quickly. You threw a thank you over your shoulder to the blacksmith before slipping outside. Azriel arranged for the short sword and scythe to be sent to the house of wind and was slipping out the door you had disappeared through moments earlier. 

You were leaning against the wall, gloves back on, eyes scanning the busy streets around you. A group of kids came barreling around the corner laughing loudly and you smiled at them softly. Your wings had been gone since you landed outside the blacksmiths shop earlier that day. The shadows that seemed to be more so yours rather than Azriel’s swept along your cheeks and neck and through your hair languidly. You didn’t even flinch as one wrapped along your ear. Azriel knew that while the shadows seemed to favor you, you weren’t able to hear them. 

“You ready to go?” You turned your head in Azriel’s direction and he gave you a stern nod. You followed him through the streets and to the restaurant Cassian had picked out at dinner last night. Nesta and Cassian were already inside and sat at a table when you entered. 

“I wanna see.” Nesta rolled her eyes at Cassian as he made grabby hands towards you. You pulled the daggers from your pockets and handed them over to him. He studied the blade and pummel before a large smile worked over his face.

“Very good craftsmanship, I might have to commission you to make my weapons in the future.” You gave him a mischievous smile and he matched it. Azriel and Nesta both eyed you wearily.

“Why don’t we make a bet.” Cassian’s wide smile grew as a flicker of curiosity glinted in his eyes at your proposition. He handed you the daggers back and you pocketed them once again. 

“What do you have in mind?” He leaned back in his chair and flung an arm across the back of Nesta’s. 

“A drinking game. First one drunk loses. If you win I have a short sword I made today with your name on it and I’ll make you however many weapons you want in the future free of charge. But if I win you have to get me a custom set of leathers made and pay me for any weapons I make you in the future.” He eyed you up and down, assessing you, the hand that wasn’t on Nesta’s chair rubbed at his chin. You waited patiently, even though you knew he would agree. The look in his eyes gave his answer away before he even spoke. 

“You have a bet.” He pulled the hand from his chin and held it out to you. You shook it tightly watching as surprise worked over his face from the strength in your grip. Then the game began. When either of you ordered a drink the other followed suit. It had been many years since Azriel had seen Cassian lose a drinking game so he figured he had this in the bag. Azriel sat there watching as his brother became more and more inebriated. 

The group of you ate and talked about anything you could think of. They asked you about your time before they found you. You gave them little pieces of information, but nothing that would give away the many secrets you held. Cassian finally pulled a piece of leather from his pocket and tied up his hair. He was trying to hide the fact that he was getting hot as the alcohol worked through his body. 

“How am I supposed to get up to the house of wind if you’re too drunk to fly us Cassian?” Nesta crossed her arms narrowing a look at him. He hiccuped as he looked at her, processing her words and then he shrugged. 

“I’ll carry you up there Nes.” You gave her a reassuring smile, like you had already planned to fly her up. The only response from her was a curt nod. But Azriel eyed you curiously. You had kept pace with Cassian easily but you didn’t seem even slightly tipsy. 

“You’re staying at the River House tonight. I don’t want you throwing up on our rug again.” Nesta sent Cassian another pointed look and he gave her a pout.  

“That only happened-” He hiccuped again “one time Ne-“ another hiccup “-sta.” He swayed in his seat a little bit. You smiled at him as you gestured to the waitress that you’d take two more drinks. She made quick work of bringing them over and you chugged the drink quickly watching as Cassian tried to do the same. The constant hiccups made it difficult for him to do. 

You waved the waitress down for the check which she brought over with a smile. You didn’t miss the way she eyed the Illyrian shadowsinger sitting beside you. Something she had been doing all night actually. Nesta went to protest you paying but you waved your hand at her in dismissal before once again signing the name Archibald Tolsin. Azriel would have to send out shadows tonight in search of the mystery male. 

“Let’s go Nes. Azriel is going to take Cassian.” Azriel almost choked on his last sip of whiskey as you stood and gestured for Nesta to do the same. 

“Why am I taking him?” You gave him a beaming smile and there was that ember flickering away in your eyes. 

“Are you saying you can’t handle it?” Azriel felt his chest involuntarily puffing out at your question. He scoffed at you before standing up as well and rounding the table. He pulled a swaying Cassian up from his seat and narrowed his eyes at you before they were slipping through his shadows. 

“That was easier than I expected. I saw a really cute bakery yesterday with Lucien that is open late. Let’s stop there on the way back.” You were practically pulling Nesta out of the restaurant and through the streets. She was utterly surprised at your steady steps and steady words as you asked her questions about the city. 

“How the fuck are you not drunk?” She asked you when you finally stopped in front of the bakery. She had watched you down an equal amount of drinks as her mates. There is no way you should still be conscious. 

“I have fire in my veins, I can burn alcohol away as soon as it enters me.” You gave her a lazy smile and swaggered off into the bakery.

“So you cheated?” Her question didn’t surprise you as you scanned the cases of pastries and baked goods for anything that caught your eye. 

“It would’ve been cheating if he had specified I couldn’t use my fire to my advantage.” Your eyes lit up as you spied a specific cupcake. 

“He didn’t know.” Nesta was leveling you with a stare that would’ve made a lesser fae quake but you simply rolled your eyes at her. 

“He didn’t ask.” That was that, Nesta realized that what you said made sense. It was her mate's fault for misjudging his opponent. You went up to the counter and ordered three cupcakes and waited for Nesta to order as well. You signed the bill and were making your way back out the door into the street after being handed your bag of baked goods. 

Your wings popped up behind you and you opened your arms letting Nesta settle against your chest before you were shooting for the sky and towards the house of wind. The flight there was quiet as you both took in the sight of the city below you. Once you got to the house of wind you went in search of Lucien who was still in the library before giving him one of the cupcakes. You asked the shadows that had stayed with you to place one in their masters room which they did quickly before finding their way back to you. 

Nesta sat with you and Lucien for a while as you all read different books. As the night grew later the three of you parted ways towards your respective rooms. Brok and Zas followed you dutifully. With the comfort of the shadows and the hounds you had a nightmare free slumber.

A/N:So sorry this wasn't posted around the time it usually is! Thank you all so much for reading. As always likes, comments, reblogs and follows are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

I was listening to the Les Mis soundtrack yesterday and thought of something,

Lucien, after the bond snapped:

Lucien when he looks at Elain:

Lucien, after Elain was taken at the end of acmaf:

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Life & Death

Azriel x Reader, in which you have been secretly by Azriel’s side more than he ever knew (inspired by this light vs. dark theme I had in my head, seemed to only fit well with Az, I think he serves it justice)

Warnings: None, adult theme (death)

Word Count: 2.5K

Azriel embodied death. 

He was born in darkness, raised in the shadows, and grew under the vesper. The only light in the male’s life for many years was the fire that danced on his hands, burning his palms and scorching his veins. He befriended the whispers in the crepuscule, under the bright moon that bled through the slits in his minuscule window. His wings were cramped, the confines of his cell so tight he couldn’t spread them, even as a small child.

Azriel blended into the shadows, the ones that sang to him, his mother’s sweet song, and the ones that protected him, hiding him away from his brothers. After his rescue, they followed him around, twisting around his ankles and wrists, guarding him from any newcomers - with good intentions or those without. He lived in the dark, embodying his newfound gift. 

The male hadn’t had any friends, aside from the two brothers he quickly found. Strangers, Illyrian and Fae alike, avoided him, some spitting at his feet from far away, others completely terrified of him. In the camps, after Azriel’s first kill, the tides turned, and one after another, that number grew. 

Deathbringer. He never cared what others thought of him - while he was privy to the rumors and stories surrounding his name, he hadn’t found it in himself to care. He embraced what they thought he was - he became the Shadowsinger, the merciless torturer, hidden in the shadows and hungry for blood. 

You had always been enthralled with Azriel. The legend surrounding him had only spurred you further in your search for him, desperate to meet the Illyrian yourself. You watched him from high above the forest floor, where you tracked him to. You admired the fit of those leathers, the dark battlegear he wore regularly, tight around his strong legs and lean torso. 

You flew over the treeline, noting how he vanished into the shadows around him, disappearing without a trace. To call him the Deathbringer was an insult, a harsh connotation spread around by fearful Fae and jealous Illyrians. You almost laughed, each time when they cowered away from the male, so certain he’d bring harm and annihilation, when all he brought them was immunity and freedom. 

Death was not dark and gruesome, nothing to be feared or shied away from. It was life that was so dirty, grim and hopeless; life that shrouded all creatures in the universe. It was the curse of life that chained every soul to the earth, stuck on rotting soil, bound in Fae form and left to suffer forever. Humans suffered greatly in slavery and their wretched bodies that fell so easily to illness and starvation. The Fae remained tethered to life for far too long, surrounded by ravens that gouged their loved one’s eyes out, and the vultures that picked at rotting flesh and muscle until there was nothing but cracked skulls remaining. 

The truly blessed were taken in the soft hands of death, welcomed home into the bright light by the Angel herself. It was death that set them free, no longer relying on the capricious sun for light, for sustenance and existence. Death, who many thought left their soul rotting in the river of black sludge, underground and long forgotten by the Mother. But that was life: hell on earth. 

Azriel greeted death warmly, so often sent creatures to their blissful end, no longer trapped in the restraints of existence. The male that you’d kept your eyes on for centuries, watching from afar as he sent Fae and Illyrian alike to you, unknowingly - to be taken by you, a sacrifice, a promise, a vow. He sent you countless souls, even having a few brushes with death himself. It was those moments when you came the closest to him. When you were able to hold him in his dying state, cold in your arms, as you offered him warmth, the sweet release of death. 

You flapped your white wings, descending down between the trees, feathers fluttering and bracing your drop as you met the forest floor. Plush grass tickled your bare feet, your white gown fell gracefully around you as you settled on the cool earth. You smiled to yourself, sensing the shift in the air as shadows swirled around you. As the oxygen shifted around you, you counted down the seconds until the male appeared beside you. 

Three.

Time moved slowly. As if centuries passed between each second. 

Two.

You turned on your heel, breath held tight in your lungs. 

One.

Azriel appeared in front of you, a swirl of shadows and darkness. 

He winnowed straight back as he felt your presence in the woods, the heavy trees around you brustled with each flap of your delicate wings. He’d been tracking you for years, the only trace he’d had to follow was the shift in the air, how the sun felt brighter, the air felt hotter, and the soft beat of your wings that reverberated in his bones. 

The only way he’d been able to summon you was to wait.

For you to find him. 

Azriel didn’t know who you were. He didn’t know what you wanted from him, or how you’d been able to follow him for so long without his shadows catching on. They were no help, unable to detect who you were or where you hailed from. He had to rely only on his own instinct, on the pounding of his heart whenever you drew near. 

You raised a hand to his face, slow and intentional. Azriel did not question you, he did not stop you or ask why. His chest thundered, shoulders tensed in anticipation. He could feel his heart banging in his chest, desperate for escape, for you to hold it in your hands. His hand fell to Truth-teller, his fingers caressed the hilt of his short blade, dancing along the cool metal as he anticipated your next movement. 

“Your reputation precedes you, Shadowsinger,” you whispered as you traced a line along Azriel’s cheek. He tensed, jaw clenched tightly and tendons flexed beneath his golden skin. His hazel eyes stayed locked on yours as you took in every feature, from the sweep of his eyelashes to the arch of his brow, the green flecks in his eyes down to each scar adorning his cheeks. 

“I wish I could say the same,” he muttered, his voice quiet, plump lips barely moving as he spoke. The typically menacing male remained entrapped in your gaze, victim to your hand, gradually moving down the column of his throat. 

You offered him a smile, one you surely would pay to see strewn across the male’s face. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of wrinkles or lines on his face - missing the harsh smile lines carved into the Lord of Bloodshed’s cheeks, or the wrinkles etched around the High Lord of Night Court’s eyebrows. He bore no such marks, no emotion betraying the stoic male that stood before you. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you replied, dropping your hand but not daring to take a step away from him. “You’ve met me before.” The male’s eyes narrowed, hints of gold and green shifting as his eyes washed over your features. His chest rose and fell slowly, concentrated and controlled, as he searched for the memory. His shadows skitted around him, swirling around his neck and torso, twining around your ankles in investigation. 

He shook his head slowly, unable to break your hypnotic gaze. Azriel felt the pounding in his chest, the tremor of the hum released deep in the depths of his soul - it sent his bones vibrating and blood racing; he kept his hands clenched in fists at his sides. “No,” he offered simply, shadows unable to recognize you. 

“The bloodbane on that arrow through your chest,” you reminded him, dropping your finger to your own heart. “Fallen before the Cauldron itself.” Azriel remembered vividly, shoulders tensed as he relived that harrowing day. It wasn’t darkness surrounding him, pulling him into a sea of nothingness. He was encapsulated by light, blinding, white light. The warmth from the glow seeped into his soul, kept him conscious. “It was not the King who held your life in the balance, Azriel,” you whispered, the male going weak in the knees at your hushed tone. “It was me - I was there while he bargained your life away.” 

“You weren’t there.” Azriel barely spoke aloud, his breath swirled the loose hair framing your face. He noted the rhythm of your breathing, matching it in entirety. 

“I was.” You held your hands open before you, showing him your empty palms. Between the two of you, the air warmed, not with fire, not with light - there was nothing. Nothing but the air you both breathed, your bodies wrapped in warmth. His fingers twitched, the familiar heat sinking into his bones. “It was I who did not take you in that moment. That warmth around you was me, Azriel. It was death.”

His face revealed nothing, but the bob of his throat did. “You’re the Angel of Death,” he finished for you, incredulously, not believing the sight before him. The myth, the legend that the children whispered about in the Illyrian Camps, meant to scare each other in the dead of night. 

The beautiful Angel of Death, alluring young males and enticing warriors on the battlefield to follow her. It was told that she was beautiful, with hypnotic eyes, nearly glowing with ethereal beauty. Black wings, given to her by the Devil himself, a crown of thorns, exquisite gown. Some said she had fangs, others reported horns. She was only a fable, shared by the young soldiers preparing themselves for death, hoping to be welcomed into the arms of a beautiful female. A beautiful female who was death incarnate, a devil, the keeper of all good and evil.

What shocked Azriel, though, were your bright white wings, feathered and fluffy, like something of the Dawn Court. Flowing white gown, hair splayed wildly around your head, tousled from flight. No fangs, talons, horns, or pointy tail. You stood before him calm, steady, unwavering as you stared your mate in the eye. You emitted nothing but life. 

“It seems my reputation does precede me, after all,” you whispered, nearly reading his thoughts verbatim. “I choose who to take. I was by Hybern’s side when the Archeron sisters killed him, when the General of the NIght Court Armies laid on the battlefield with his guts spilt out, when your High Lord and High Lady died - every time, in fact.” He watched you with that unwavering stare, studying every word you offered. “I held your life in the palm of my own hands, but it was not your time to go.” You raised your open hands, at which Azriel reached for them, holding them together against his chest. “It was never anybody else, Azriel, you are mine.” 

He took a step toward you, chest impossibly close to yours. “And you are mine, (Y/N),” he whispered, laying your palms flat against his Illyrian leathers. His heart beat fast and true, never more sure in his life that his mate stood before him, winged and equal, ever true. 

You craned your neck upwards, peering up at the male from under your eyelashes. He leaned forwards, tilting his head to one side as he captured your lips against his. The male had not been known for his hesitation, but his lips touched yours just for a moment before he pulled back. You dropped his hands, throwing your arms over his shoulders, circling them around the back of his neck. 

He tasted of cedar and smoke, the taste of shadow and night swirling around your tongue. The hairs on the back of your neck rose when your lips met, a shiver sent down your spine when he pulled away. Azriel felt the sparks as soon as he touched you, and kissing you made his whole chest explode. He had to hold himself back, using the only bit of willpower he could muster, to restrain himself from taking you on the forest floor right then and there. 

Azriel huffed a sigh in relief as you pressed yourself fully against him. His hands found your waist, squeezing tightly before falling to your hips and holding you flush to him. His heart raced, never before had a female had his mind reeling and his chest pounding. They said the mating bond was unquestionable, his gut twisted and every muscle in his body flexed as he held you in his arms. 

His shadows whirled around you both, his wings flexed outwards behind him. You sighed as the cool air hit you, his wings unfurled completely before you. You had to resist the urge to touch, instead your fingers carded through his hair, pulling tightly at the shaggy locks, which earned a low growl from the male. His hand rose to cup your jaw, tilting your head further, deepening the kiss until the two of you meshed into one, nothing but a mess of teeth and tongue. 

As Azriel’s other hand fell lower, cupping the back of your ass and sliding down the back of your thigh. He bunched up your gown, grabbing layers of skirts and fistfuls of fabric, searching for skin. You dropped one hand to his, pulling it from your body and dropping it at his side. With a groan, you pulled your lips away from his, sighing as his forehead pressed against yours. He leaned forward, desperate for another kiss. “(Y/N),” he snarled, perhaps in warning. 

“Being mates,” you began, cut off at the harsh breath the Shadowsinger let out before you. At your touch, the male had began to succumb to his primal instincts. To have you in his arms and to claim you - he wondered if that was the only thing that would be able to calm the roaring in his veins. “Is not so simple, Azriel.”

“I don’t care what it is,” he replied, stealing another hungry kiss, holding you tighter against him. 

“Tethered to death,” you continued, pulling away from him again, holding him still by his hair. Your life would be as mine is. You’d be tethered to me. To the Angel of Death. Your words failed you as he weighed your every movement, hazel eyes watching you, searching for those thoughts. “Being mated to death means the end of your own life.” 

At that, Azriel paused, his intentions halting. He remained a hair's breadth away from you, just enough to study you from down the bridge of his nose. His bright eyes flicked between yours, his dark brows pulled cross in thought. The male had no plan to let you go - he’d never thought he’d find a mate at all, merely stuck between choosing one of the females the Mother had placed in his path. He didn’t want the convenient choice, nor the easy way out. He’d finally been blessed with a mate, his equal - Death and his Angel - he was prepared to sacrifice what he had to in order to keep you. 

“I am no stranger to death,” your mate replied, afraid of nothing. 

“It’s ironic,” you added, finally stepping away from the male, releasing the death-like grip you had on his black locks; though he did not drop his hands from your waist. “Deathbringer.” Your mate tilted his head to the side, not offering a question or even the quirk of a brow. “You are everything about life, Azriel.”

[a-court-of-messy-break-ups]

just like cassian begging for coals, i would like to beg for more tamlin hc :D

honestly ath this point y'all might as well ask for tamlin x reader fics but i digress i love talking about my tamlin hc

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

-Tamlin is very shy, I reblogged a post about this too. Before UTM we see Lucien trying to give Tamlin flirting advice and Tamlin just being a wreck at it by simply telling feyre she smells nice.

-He can sing, and this is how I imagine his voice.

-Remember my HC how Tamlin build's stuff for his mate/lover? Well, he won't just build small things like bracelets and necklaces, he'll make you an entire city if you want one. He spoils his lovers to no end, and he's very loyal.

-He was a little bit of a playboy, not the smouldering kind the one who'd people actually want to sleep with because he was so polite about it but also extremely rough when you asked him too, plus the morning after would surprisingly be rarely awkward since he'd leave by the time you wake but before he goes he'll drop a small present next to you in bed like a snack.

-He is motherly, he's a stay at home husband and will coddle you.

-He's the type of person that will carry you if he notices you're being too slow.

-If you are a child and your shoes get untied while walking with him, he will tie it for you, if you are his s/o he will carry you, if you are his friend he will walk away while leaving you to tie your laces by himself and by the time you're done he'll be so far away that he'll have to go back for you.

-His version of walking is what we call running, he's that fast.

-The guy lets you insult him, he doesn't get offended by it just annoyed, he's too much of a gentleman to clap back.

-He feels bad for Rhys' family, and he has small altars for them as a sorry. Similar to my Lucien HC where Lucy goes on a walk during Jesminda's death anniversary. Tamlin does the same to Rhys' sister and mom.

-I highly believe the guy had a friendship with Rhysand's sister, and I doubt he willingly told them where they were. I see their friendship as something like Pandora and Regulus' friendship, yes it's not canon but idc.

-When Rhys and Tamlin were kids Rhys would sneak Tamlin away from his father so Tamlin could have dinner with Rhys' family instead.

-Tamlin's father hated Rhys' family and him finding out Tamlin was friend's with Rhys forced him to say where Rhys' mother and sister were or else he'd have Rhys killed himself. Tamlin who was easy to manipulate, and was scared gave away the information only to realize what he'd done.

-He went with his father to try and stop him, but he was the only one fighting them off, so he had his two other sons hold down Rhys' sister. As Tamlin's father commands him with magic kill Rhys' mom. Tamlin not having any control over his body anymore does it, while also pleading to his father to stop it. He doesn't listen and he kills Rhys' mom himself before she silently tells him that none of this is his fault. He then later kills Rhys' sister.

-Tamlin's father turns to him, commending him for being a good son while Tamlin is just on the ground crying at the sight of his friend and possible mother figure. His father tells him this is all a lesson for him to learn from, he proceeds to gaslight Tamlin by saying he never used magic on him because he doesn't possess that power so Tamlin just stands their thinking he willingly killed them.

[eloenasims]

(Link is at the bottom)

So I was trying to make Feyre’s Night Court Dress the way I (incorrectly) imagined it when I first read it in the second book. In failing I made something that looked more like the actual cannon dress and I liked how it looked and I experimented with other swatches. After I was done, I realised some of the swatches could work as Dawn, Summer and Spring Court dresses, so I made swatches that suited the remaining courts. I really like the Autumn Court one.

In case anyone’s curious how I imagined the Feyre’s Night Court dress: For the shape I imagined like a wedding ballgown dress with no sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Then the coloring was pretty much a galaxy print, but black with bits dark green. To really bring home the space theme I had to involve Saturns rings. They would hang around the waist to somewhere just above the knee, rigid, like three hoola hoops made of gold and would overlap/cross. 

Download link: SFS

[roguestarsailor]

After SJM Live suggesting that Feyre might be pregnant in ACOSF, I can't help but feel uncomfortable and bit angry about this.

I loved following Feyre’s journey. From her beef with her family to going into the woods and being this amazing survivor to handling all that was thrown to her UTM and then healing over ACOMAF and then handling the war that was in ACOWAR. But some point in ACOWAR I started reluctantly rooting for her and in ACOFAS I really didn't want to root for her anymore.

I think one of the reasons why I'm mad about Feyre on the surface level is that she is done. Having a child generally means settling down and feels definitively over. I am not mad Feyre’s story is over but rather she thinks all she has left to do is to pop out babies. in ACOMAF, Feyre dreamed about being able to paint and to open her own studio and eventually teach. She accomplishes that in ACOFAS. But it feels like there aren't smaller problems associate with that? She became High Lady, yet we see her do paper work but never the leg work required to handle the massive size of the Night Court.

Lets backtrack for a bit.

Feyre grew up having to survive. She had to fight for her survival as well as her family. She spent years being the sole provider. 

From the start, she doesn't know the true story of what is plaguing the Fae lands. Spring Court however became her sanctuary. She had the time, space and resources to just paint. There were times when her life was in danger but to some degree she sought out that danger. The Suriel, Rhys at Calamai, going UTM. She was happy when she was with Tamlin.

After UTM, this was the biggest shift in her character. She felt broken and she recognized how terrible her actions were. She felt guilt and regret. She no longer wanted to paint and again, sought out something to do. She wanted Tamlin to tell her what was happening post-Amarantha. She still felt anxious and carried around her knife. She felt restless. We hate Tamlin here because he was dismissive and not recognizing what Feyre needed. Again, she is trying to be active participant in Spring Court; she isn't the type of person to sit by and relax.

“I was not the human girl who needed coddling and pampering, who wanted luxury and easiness. I didn’t know how to go back to craving those things. To be docile.” (ACOMAF, pg122)

While w Rhys and IC, she recognized that she will always have to fight. Feyre can't be what Tamlin wanted! Tamlin wanted someone who wanted to just paint and garden and be homey. Wanted someone who embodies peace and gentleness (honestly a bit like Elain but I won't go there). Right then and there, Feyre realized how wrong Tamlin was for her. She won't sit by and relax and be gentle. She's hard, she's rough and she's scarred! She was the first of her sisters to fight. She survived so much and endured so much! 

“[Realizing what it meant if she went back to Spring Court after Rhys + Mor took her out after Tamlin locked her up] Bring me back to silence, and those sentries, and a life of doing nothing but dressing and dining and planning parties” (pg 127)

She wants to be apart of the planning and the scheme and just in general know what's going on in the Fae lands. Tamlin doesn't let her do much other than love a life of peace (aka paint). Remember the part when she says I can't believe I let Tamlin believe that Spring Court was all there was to see?? Yeah that was such a punching fist in the air moment! Tamlin was stifling her! With Rhys, she was able to go to significantly more places, learn more about the politics of Prythian, practice her power freely and unrestricted! she was doing sooo damn well in ACOMAF!  

“But the sprawl of the city...worse, the vast expanse of dark beyond -- the sea...maybe I remained a human fool to feel that way, but I had no realized the size of the world. The size of Prythian, if a city this large could remain hidden from Amarantha, from the other courts” (pg 155)

“I’m thinking that I must have been a fool in love to allow myself to be shown so little of the Spring Court. I’m thinking there’s a great deal of that territory I was never allowed to see or hear about and maybe I would have lived in ignorance forever like some pet...I’m thinking that...I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety. And I’m thinking maybe he knew that--maybe not actively, but maybe he wanted to be that person for someone. And maybe that worked for who I was before. Maybe it doesn’t work for who--what I am now.” (pg 156)

When she is healed up, mated and has her fighting spirit back, she goes into Spring Court to be a spy and see what's up. She's active again. She's choosing to fight there so her found family in Night Court has a chance. She plays the part and survives. And she further survives as she makes her way back to Night Court w Lucien. She's a survivor through and through. She even said that what bonded Rhys and her was their endurance -- they will endure what is to come.

Settling down and being a mom doesn't feel like Feyre. She is only 21 years old! She hasn't seen the world. We, the audience, got a chance to see the world when Feyre was finally freed from Tamlin’s clutches! ACOFAS made it feel like Feyre is satisfied w her life where she spends a few months accomplishing her goals and thinks having babies is the next best thing. I understand and love Feysand but having babies so soon is not it. She’s a fighter through and through. I get wanting her to have a place to build her home and raise a family is cute and such a lovely bow on top of all that she’s been through but it's not Feyre's character. She's gritty and rough and is restless. She cannot be satisfied so fast?? Or am I wrong to see that???

Even Miryam and Drakon with their legendary romance, they aren’t settling down and popping babies. They spent their time hiding and prepping for the next war because they know that their work isn’t done. They also know they have centuries of life left! To believe that Feyre’s end game is just having babies?? No! Besides that Night Court was spearheading the war effort for Hybern in the beginning so they aren’t the type to sit back and chill (not to mention literally the wealth of drama that is coming from what to do with Hybern’s lands, to Human and Fae integration, to Illyria rebellions, internal court drama, etcetc).

I’m not saying having babies/being a mom is a bad thing. I just dont think its Feyre’s character and I would be disappointed if that was what her character arc turned out to be. I understand that the ACOFAS was suppose to be a ode to how Feyre is the opposite of how she started out but we’ve spent this entire series telling us Feyre is forged by the unluckiest circumstances and growing and healing despite that. To have her revert to a homemaker (her 3 houses), to reduce to stories of her having (low key cringe) sex with Rhys, to spend her days spending money and living in the epitome of luxury when she found that stifling in the beginning is character assassination. 

I hope we don’t have to hear about Feyre getting pregnant anytime soon and I would be deeply sadden if thats the path SJM takes her. She has so many centuries of life and adventures. Why is she reduced to living in Velaris and think thats the best life she can have is having babies? I want her High Lady title to have impact and not just because she’s mated to Rhysand. I want her to explore the intricacies of the Prythian and beyond. I wish ACOFAS showed her going in that direction but it didn’t and it makes me deeply sad. So I hope in ACOSF we don’t hear about Feyre and her sweet little life (but I might be wrong there).

[hiddelstan]

Amren to the night court: Your Solstice gift this year... is me. That's right, another year of friendship. Your membership has been renewed.

[azsazz]

Burrow

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Nesting. Preferably with Cassian but I'm not picky.

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.

Word Count: 929

_________________________________________

“No,” you cry desperately, throwing your arm out to try and stop Cassian from entering the bed. Your alpha stares down at you, eyebrow raised. Swallowing harshly, you duck your head as your cheeks heat a sheepish crimson. “What if you ruin it?”

Cassian's face softens as he tries to bite back the teasing grin threatening to expose itself. You are the most adorable omega he’s ever seen, all bundled up in one of his thick sweaters that drowns you with his pillows and blankets stacked tightly around you in the nest that had taken you ages to perfect.

“Sweetheart, you do know that all of those things smell like me, right?”

You huff, burrowing your flaring face into one of the pillows, breathing the lingering scent of him he’d left behind. “I know, it’s stupid.”

Cassian hushes you softly, abandoning the side of the bed that was your usual spot and sweeping around the edge to where you’d built up your nest on his side of the luxurious bed.

You’d rolled into the divet he’d left after he’d kissed you goodbye before slipping out of the room for training early this morning. It had been awfully warm and you couldn’t resist pressing your face into his pillow to breathe in the scent of the alpha that had claimed you as his.

Cassian catches your chin in a soft hold, thumb stroking over your cheek before it slides down your neck and across the mark on your neck in a soothing motion. Your heart stutters in your chest at his touch upon your most proud brand, gifted to you by him. He tilts your head to look his way, keenly aware of what’s going on with you. As both your alpha and your mate he knows you better than himself. He hadn’t seen you all morning, and when he’d run into the wraiths after a hearty breakfast with his brothers and heard that you had refused their services, he’d immediately known you were nearing your heat and had begun nesting.

You’re very particular about things when your heat is approaching. With your sharpened senses you didn’t want the smell of anyone else ruining the heady scent of Cassian’s throughout the room. You didn’t want the wraiths to come in and clean his clothes or ruin the delicious sandalwood scents smothering every inch of the space. You picked through the haphazardly thrown items on the floors and chests to find the perfect ones to fit in your nest – nothing too dirty but with enough of the alphas scent that it calmed your itchy bond.

When he’d finally made it back to the room his heart stumbled at the sight of you burrowing deeply into the mass of the nest you made up on his side of the bed. A brief but calculating glance had Cassian recognizing more than a few of his favorite shirts and sweaters, pillows and blankets stacked in a precise manner that had his bond humming in his chest. A bunch of his hair ties hang loose around your wrists, one holding your hair back from your pretty face. He’d even caught sight of his beloved sword, nestled in its century worn leather holster that smells strongly of him.

“It’s not stupid at all.” His mesmerizing hazel gaze holds yours, voice set in a way to show you that he means nothing but the truth. “You know that I will do anything to keep you safe and comfortable, right mate?”

Your eyes turn glassy, heart aching in such a wonderful way. You love this male and have for as long as you can remember, and everything he’s done has shown you just how much he reciprocates your feelings. The mark under his gentle touch throbs and warmth fills your chest.

“Yes, alpha,” you sigh, relaxing in his grip. 

“Good girl,” he hums and your nostrils flare, torn between wanting to keep your nest in its near perfect arrangement or wanting to tug your alpha into bed for a romp. His stare shines with a heated glint, the air in the room thickening with the heavy eye contact.

“Keep looking at me like that, little omega, and I’ll completely ravish you.”

In a quick motion you’re flipping the covers off of yourself and gesturing to him in. “Get in here, mate, but don’t touch anything.”

Laughter rumbles in Cassian’s chest at your response, carefully toeing off his boots and leathers to slip into your nest with you. It’s a tight fit, considering how large of a male he is, but he makes it work, scooping you up into his arms and silencing your whimper with a soft kiss as he settles between the hills of items circled on the duvet, you clutched tightly to his chest.

As soon as he’s manhandled you into a comfortable position with you pressed flush to his front and the thick blankets pulled up to your shoulders, you immediately scent your mate, writhing against his chest and tucking your face into the crook of his neck to take a deep inhale of his musky scent – salt and sandalwood. It nearly makes your head spin.

Your eyes shut in bliss and your pleased sigh against his throat sends shivers up his spine, his arms tightening around you in response. His heart beats a strong beat in his chest, reacting to you cuddled in his arms, where you always should be.

Having him here is so much better than being surrounded only by his things. 

And to think…you almost didn’t let him back in bed.

[awesome-books-you-must-read]

And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.

Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

[nerdofmanypages]

“People can’t come back from the dead!” Aelin and Feyre:

[imliterallynobody]

Tamlin is my favourite character.

Said no one, ever.

[betterbooksandthings]

Books like Sarah J Maas

Sarah J Maas is known for her breathtaking fantasy series that are equal parts thrilling, romantic, and imaginative. Both of her series feature dynamic fae and exceptional royalty. You cannot mistake the similarities in her worlds for a simplicity in her storylines. On the contrary, both series contain distinct characters, magic, and worlds that shift from book to book as the plot demands. I often find myself in Maas withdrawals after her book releases, so here are some books that may pique your interest.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo: Much like Maas, Bardugo has a dynamic crew who team up and defeat a more economically and magically endowed group. In this high fantasy world, there is only one misfit crew who can pull off the heist of a lifetime saving themselves and their world in the process. It’s impossible not to love this unexpected novel.

Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson: One princess runs away from her arranged marriage and her claim to the throne. Little does she know, she walks into her destiny after having acquired the skills and support she needed to rule. Her path is surprisingly similar to one queen’s hidden background in Throne of Glass and another’s refusal to accept a bargain in ACTAR. The heartwrenching knowledge the reader makes for a compelling read.  

Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire: Now this book is not YA, nor is it high fantasy, but if you love Maas’s quippy, steamy, or fighty scenes then I promise you will not be disappointed. The series follows three siblings in a family of cryptozoologists. In other words, they are the group of humans advocating for the study and understanding of the hidden world of monsters. This urban fantasy has a great crew of characters, incredible fight scenes, and interesting world building fit for a lover of Maas.

Cinder by Marissa Meyer: Another book series that began as a cinderella retelling and ended in far more fight scenes, romantic parings, and royalty disputes. Here, one Cyborg mechanic finds her place in the lunar lineage after a chance encounter with the prince. Of course, both books branched out from their beginnings and became wonderfully rich series that can make anyone swoon. 

Graceling by Kristin Cashore: This book is a classic high fantasy series for a reason. The book asks what would you do if you had a talent or grace for killing? If you love underestimated assassins, out of place rulers, and interesting relationship dynamics, you will love watching three separate heroines move through the same world in a unified attempt to better the people they serve. 

Obviously, none of these authors can completely fill the hole in your heart left by Sarah J. Maas’s book withdrawal. If you do end up reading one of these books, I guarantee you will feel just a tiny bit better. Happy Reading!

[thalia-2-rose]

There is another Acotar book coming out after acosf in 2021?

So I know that Acmaf isn’t mentioned here but this book can not be Acomaf bcz it says #5 as in the fifth book of the series in order and Acomaf is the second one.

So... is there another book coming out this year?

And if it is, will it be Nestas since Sarah j mass said that she wanted to continue Nestas journey

Or will it be Azriels since she gave us his bonus chapter.