#he’s a little protective of tamlin

[yaralulu]

I desperately need a scene where the IC are having dinner and the topic of tamlin gets brought up and they start talking shit about him and going on about how he deserves everything thats happening to him and lucien’s just sitting there gripping his fork,jaw twitching,eyes simmering,hands shaking with rage as he tries so hard to keep his mouth shut because now is not the time to say something stupid—but they just keep talking and talking and talking until eventually he has enough and gives everybody a vanserra style telling off 😁.

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce Snippet

[lady-tortilla-chip]

I AM THINKING THOUGHTS ABOUT A TAMSAND ACOTAR FIC

Ok so like imagine Feyre didn’t say she loved Tamlin in time so Amarantha wins and everyone dies. And Rhys is having fleeting thoughts about regretting all his decisions up to this point as he watches Tamlin, specifically, dying at Amarantha’s hand. Now idk how the Cauldron works exactly but I imagine it going HEH ok why don’t you try again then? And it gives him a second chance. So he becomes aware of himself and life again right before getting to Tamlin’s door the night his father killed Tamlin’s parents in their bed.

And in the split second it takes for him to orient himself he decides to align himself with Tamlin this time so he kills his father. Then goes to Tamlin to tell him everything that happened, spins some of the truth and says he ONLY came with the intention to save Tamlin from his father and would have saved his mother given the chance. He doesn���t tell him about what’s coming, nothing about Amarantha. FROM THERE IDK maybe he convinces Tamlin to marry him or maybe he decides they need to keep their allying with each other quiet. EITHER WAY Rhys chooses the love of his life and promises to protect him this time.

[readychilledwine]

His, Yours, Mine

Summary - Finding out you were pregnant should have been the best news. It's too bad you don't know which of your three mates is possibly the father, though.

Prompt - Day 3 - Secrets

Warnings - slightly hidden pregnancy trope, pregnancy, being put in a protective bubble, alcohol mentioned, slightly angsty but I know some of you are hurting from all the angst going around so it turns to Fluff quickly.

A/N - Happy @polyacotarweek day 3! I almost turned this into a Lucien x Reader x Tamlin fic before I decided to keep it with the batboys to include Starfall. There is still an urge to make a Spring Court Trouple version of this, though, so let me know. Also, I included how I imagined Rhysand discovering Feyre's pregnancy went. As much as I hate the storyline, I can see him being so emotional over a baby

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

Madja held your hand in hers as you cried. You cried from joy, from frustration, from shock, from sadness. This should have been the happiest news of your long life, but you found yourself more confused than anything.

“It is a blessing from the Mother, y/n.” She ran a hand along your cheek, “They will be overjoyed.”

The laugh you let out was bitter. “I can't even tell them who the father is.”

“Does it matter in this type of relationship? All of them will be happy. They all want a family with you, together."

To you, it mattered. It mattered so deeply that two weeks into knowing, you still had your scent glamored when your mates were home, hiding the babe from them until you thought of the perfect thing to say.

Guilt had started eating at you as you pulled away from them, lying about stress from the new play you were asked to write the symphony for. Azriel so desperately wanted a family, even if he would not admit it, and was willing to wait until after you had given his brothers their babies. Cassian wanted a daughter more than he wanted food some days. He spoke about it constantly, about how he would braid her hair and purchase her beautiful dresses. Rhys wanted every baby you two passed on the street, always stopping to say hello and get to hold the smallest members of his court. He said it was practice for when you would bless him. Son or daughter, it did not matter to him.

You felt like this was bound to disappoint two of them, a babe, but not theirs. You signed as you continued putting away the sheet music you had been composing on. "What are we going to do, little one?" You placed a hand on your stomach.

You were home alone, magic completely dropped, and so deep into organizing your next big composition, you had not noticed Rhys walking in with two glasses of champagne until they had long shattered on the floor.

“Baby,” he whispered. He fell to his knees before you, hands gripping your hips gently as his forehead rested against your lower stomach. “Baby.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, basking in the joy he was sending so deep down the bond that your other two mates appeared. Cassian, always with weapons in hand, dropped them instantly. He didn't even care as they joined the scatter glass and champagne on the floor. He was at your and Rhysand's side instantly, kissing you deeply before kneeling next to Rhys and kissing the side of you stomach. Azriel had frozen, eyes wide and staring at you. “You're sure?”

All Rhys could do was nod, whispering again, “Baby. We're having a baby."

Dinner was a celebration just the four of you. The males all too happily planning out a nursery. You pushed the food around your plate, feeling too guilty to enjoy the meal Cassian had made you all. “Y/n, what's wrong?” Azriel pulled you to him. “Is it the babe? Do you need to lay down?”

You felt tears begin to fall as the guilt consumed you. “I don't know which one of you is the father.”

You waited. Waited for the 3 of them to fight, to lay claim to the babe, but Cassian and Rhys just both looked at Azriel and then you. “It is technically Azriel's,” the High Lord spoke slowly. “You smell like him. But it is also mine. Also, Cassian's. The babe is ours. We all are it's father.”

“But-”

“Sweetheart,” Cassian took your hand. “We knew once this bond happened, there was a chance you would get pregnant, and we wouldn't know who fathered the baby until the scent kicked in.. We do not want to be fathers, though. We want to be dads. We love you and the little babe, regardless of you smelling like Azriel.”

Azriel was nuzzled into you. “We accepted a long time ago that everything you got pregnant, you would smell like only one of us, and that one of us would get more protective.” He kept scenting you. “I would have been happy if it was Rhysand's or Cassian's.”

Rhysand finally spoke again. “A babe is always a means for Celebration as well.” You groaned. “I am thinking of an announcement at Starfall? With all of our family there?”

“That's only 2 weeks for me to plan and put something together.” You were used to Rhysand giving you short deadlines for things involving your family, the rest of the Inner Circle, and the Court of Nightmares, but for all of Velaris? You held those events to such high standards, and had since Rhysand asked you to take over that duty as High Lady.

“You could keep it simple this time?” You turned slowly to Cassian, glaring as he put his hands up in surrender. “Or not. Murder hormones kicked in today. Noted."

And “simple” had no place in the description of what you had done. You had made the choice to have the Rainbow opened to the celebration, watching as guests admired every faelight enchanted to twinkle like the stars themselves, watching as every guest took their turns on the dance floor you had put temporarily into the center of the large open theater. Rhys had allowed you to spare no expense. Vendors had made countless cakes and treats, food was plenty, drinks were pouring, and the orchestra played lively music.

You were shielded in the magic bubble all three males had demanded you be put in, but it wasn't enough for Azriel, who hung behind you like a constant threat even in his finest dress clothing.

Your own dress showed the smallest curve where your child was growing, causing every guest who greeted you and High Lord to pass their congratulations unknowing of the circumstances. “Won't they all shit when they figure out Az put a baby in you first?” You slammed an elbow into Cassian's stomach, smiling at an elderly couple as they held Rhysand's hands, praising him for bringing the city all together to celebrate a Night Court tradition and such a joyous announcement.

“We are just getting some of them okay with the idea of all of us as a mated unit. Let's not cause any heart attacks, Cassian.” He nodded to your statement and held a water glass to your mouth.

“Going to be a long night, sweetheart. Let's stay hydrated.”

The music switched to a soft violin based turn, one you had composed as Starfall began. Azriel held you close as everyone's attention turned to the sky, including yours. All three of your mates had their eyes locked on you, soft smiles on their faces as they watched the childlike wonder wash over you despite years of witnessing the event. “Always so beautiful.”

“Of course you are,” Azriel whispered. “And you will look even more beautiful when you begin to show more.”

“I can't wait,” Rhysand's hand went to that small bump, “To hold our babe.”

Cassian's hand rested on Rhysand. “Our baby. The first of many.”

“We would toast you, darling, but no champagne for you,” Rhysand handed a glass to Cass and Az, then water to you. “Darling?”

“To the stars who listen,” your voice broke as tears of joy came.

“And the dreams that are answered,” they all echoed.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Ballad of Storm and Shadow

Azriel x F!Reader

Part Two

Summary - Rhys had been content in taking the darkest secret of his family to the grave, but when the threat of Hybern increases, he has no choice but to send a message to another world and pray to the Mother that his call is answered.

Warnings - swearing, fluff, a little angst as always, mentions of blood, brother sister fluff 🥺

Part One

This is a crossover series, some aspects will differ from that in the books. Physical attributes are described in this fic, it is essential to the storyline of the character

There was only one singular thing that Rhys wanted more than to be able to spend a moment alone with his long-lost sister, telling tales and swapping stories of what the last 500 years had held for them, and that was to see Tamlin cower at her perfectly painted feet.

Though, Rhys was sure, like the other High Lords, that Tamlin would not be making an appearance, not after what Feyre had done to his court.

Aelin leaned to the side, her eyes not once moving from the reflective pool in the centre of the chamber as she whispered to y/n, causing the raven haired female to grin in response. It was clear that the two other-worldly women were putting the High Lords of Prythian on edge, if not for their damning beauty then because of the suffocating power that waltzed around them, dancing in a phantom wind and casting a faint shimmer over their forms.

Azriel didn't blame either of them for wrapping a shield around themselves, though, he did get the feeling that it wasn't they who had decided it, it seemed to be Rowan's doing. The fae prince's gaze sauntered across the room, not wanting to indulge in the idle chatter of lesser-than beings, he was assessing and probably imagining all the ways in which he could cut them down without even blinking.

The only sounds that filled the room were polite comments and the gossip from Vivane and Mor, catching up after 50 years apart. All Rhys wanted to do was lean over and ask his sister a million and one questions about her life, where she had been and what the other world was like, but, upon gazing upon her monotonous features, he decided against that impulse.

Instead, the High Lord of Night peered across the pool to find Eris Vanserra in complete awe of her, and if she had noticed his lingering gaze then she did well to not let onto it. Y/N had most likely already known that if she was raised in Prythian then it would have been him who would have been given her hand, their father had always wanted a way into the Autumn Court. Rhys was glad that she looked so alike to him, but he couldn't help but notice a certain darkness within her eyes, like a chilled breeze in the midst of winter, unwavering and fatal.

He had so many questions, so many things he needed to know.

A gentle loop of wind coursed through the open arches from the east, sifting through y/n's hair and cascading her scent straight into Azriel's lungs, so blissful that even his shadows swarmed around the speckles of air for a taste. He had been trying to pinpoint the individual aspects of her scent for the last ten minutes, desperate to etch it to memory, but that last fell sweep confirmed it.

Y/N smelt like the calm before the storm, when the earth hazed by swelter was damp and eagerly awaiting the roaring from the skies during its last moments of peace; there was a slight ashen note to it, like lightening kissed trees that were crackling after being torn apart by the storms fury, and then all of that was combined with with the heavenly aroma of fresh petrichor from newly bathed mountain springs.

He tried to tell himself that he was following each of her movements out of the desire to protect his home from a cunningly beautiful stranger, but he was lying to himself, so much so that his shadows swatted against his back sternly at the thought of her being anything remotely evil. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of her, he noted every tick of her jaw when Beron would open his mouth and every furrow of her brow when someone would say something that intrigued her, and then there was a familiar softness that consumed her violet gaze whenever Rhys would taunt and prod those around him. Her eyes were laced with longing and pride, like she was only then realising everything she had missed from the moment she had been sent away.

Azriel was too keen not to notice the scar peeking from the bodice of her dress, though her hair did an exquisite job of hiding it, Azriel was placed in the perfect position to be able to count every scaled ridge. It extended from the tip of her pointed ear and slithered down her neck and shoulder before disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress, leaving Azriel to wonder two things, where the scar ended and what had happened to cause it. It was clear that they all had stories to tell, and Azriel was eager to know every snippet of hers.

"Forgive me for prying," Helion drawled, leaning forward in his seat and his lethally poised orbs staring directly at y/n, they trailed down her figure, from the ornate crust of jewels encapsulated around her head to the burgundy pumps on her feet, "But what exactly are you?"

The attention of the room shifted, the one thought on their minds having being thrust out into the open, and they all waited eagerly for her response. Y/N sighed and simply glanced to her right with a soft nod, bestowing a silent permission to her companion, Aelin, who grinned, knowing the floor was open for her, "Does the crown not do it for you? She's a queen."

"A queen?" Beron scoffed with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, his brown eyes wicked and untamed, he sneered at the jewels curling above her ears and asked, "Did it fall onto your head? How does a little girl like you get to call herself a queen?"

Rowan's jaw clenched, his top lip curling into a snarl, and he went to say something, to stand up for one of his two queens, but Aelin halted him with a firm hand on his forearm, "I killed my mother, not for the crown, but because-"

"She was an evil bitch?"

Y/N pointed to Aelin with her gaze stuck on Beron, unwavering, lethal, "That." Placing both hands flat against the arms of her chair, y/n rose from the seat, the sky darkening overhead and a violent gust soaring through the chamber, "I have not left my people to aid a continent that finds it acceptable to treat the only thing standing between them and certain death this way. I am over 500 years old, I'm not a little girl. I destroyed my mother and then eviscerated her body for extra measure, and if you think that I won't do the same to you then I would suggest thinking again. I am the daughter of one of the most powerful High Lords in your history, and I am also the daughter of a Valg queen whether I wish it or not. Choose your next words very carefully."

The air had grown heavy, swelteringly so, and the skies continued to darken with splotches of demonic grey; electricity surged through the space, causing the atoms to vibrate with tension. A faint rumble coursed in the distance, and sparks of blue lit up the skies which had once been a backdrop of serenity, even the ocean below could be heard crashing against the cliffside.

Despite his thunderous heartbeat, Beron couldn't allow his mask to shiver in response, no matter how much sweat had built up on his brow or cold had seeped into his bones. Before he could open his mouth and spurt another insult, two thick threads of lightening crashed through the dome of the chamber, landing on either side of him with a crack as they split open the stone under his feet. Thunder chuckled overhead, always thrilled to witness one of her spectacles.

Then, the darkness vanished, giving way to lazy beams of sun as she began her descent below the horizon, the air lightened and birdsong drifted through the room from the open arches. Still standing, y/n arched a brow and adorned a knowing smirk, knowing that a single effortless flash of her abilities had struck fear into every soul surrounding the reflective pool, "Next time, I'll let them devour you. My lightening enjoys the taste of snivelling old cunts."

I like her. Feyre's voice all but purred into Rhys' mind, her face was taut from attempting to hide her grin but it glowered in her eyes.

Hm. I don't think you're the only one. Rhys cocked his head to the side, causing Feyre to crane her neck to see Azriel staring down at her in total awe, though he wasn't even trying to conceal his smile, he let it shine for all to see.

Aelin looked practically giddy by the show, waiting for y/n to sit at her side once more before continuing on as if nothing had happened, "Carrying on," Aelin folded her hands over her stomach and leaned back, propping one of her legs up on the arm of her seat, "Y/N is the Queen of the Fae of Erilea," Aelin glanced to y/n with a level of adoration, "She gave up everything to aid us, there is no one I would rather rule beside than her," Rowan cleared his throat at the words, sending Aelin a deadpan and stern glare, "Oh, and birdboy over here."

"What a touching sentiment," the white haired warrior drawled, his eyes were laced with humour as he rolled them, his body language relaxing tenfold compared to when he had been assessing the males in the room earlier. Apparently he had deduced that none of them were a threat to him and his queens, not after y/n's recent display. "And," he looked to Beron whose orbs were trained on the steaming black cracks etched into the stone floor, "If you thought that was bad, then you should count yourself lucky that Aedion and Lorcan weren't here. Your head would be detached from your shoulders for that level of disrespect."

Aedion and Lorcan.

Rhys made a mental note to ask about them later, and why saying their names aloud made Rowan's smirk turn positively feline.

"Don't forget about Manon," Aelin sang, and Rowan chuckled darkly at the thought, making Azriel think that he never wanted to meet whoever Manon was.

Y/N dragged her fingers through the lengths of her hair and sniffed the air lightly, her ears pricking as though they could hear something approaching from the distance, and just as the doors swung open did her eyes dart to meet them.

Eyes connecting with those of the intruder, Y/N shivered at the tremors of magic that coursed through the room from the High Lords and their entourages throwing their shields up, and she noticed keenly how the shield around the Night Court in particular became reinforced with rage, even if Rhys' face didn't show it.

The male before her eyes was not considered an ally.

Dressed in a green tunic and smiling so broadly that she could see each of his gleaming white teeth, the male sauntered forward into the stilled room with eyes dancing between Rhys and Y/N, picking apart every similarity between them until the realisation swarmed him.

Thesan rose to his feet slowly, his Peregryns ready to put him down if needed, but he really hoped that it wouldn't come to that, "We were not expecting you, Tamlin," he extended a hand to his quivering aids and ordered, "Please bring the High Lord a chair."

Despite his flickering eyes and subdued smile, Tamlin mainly kept his gaze on Feyre, staring directly into her soul, and by the looks of him y/n could tell that he was lethal in his own right. Feyre shuffled under his gaze, a gaze that sought to control and demand her, and y/n would be damned if she allowed such a thing.

"I have to admit that I am surprised you came, Tamlin," Beron drawled, somewhat recovered from the display of anger directed at him only moments before, "Rumour suggests that your allegiance lies elsewhere these days."

Still, Tamlin's gaze did not leave Feyre, it only moved downward to the band circled on her finger and then trailed up to the tattoo flowing and ebbing against her hand, finally ending on the crown lay atop her head. He exhaled through his nose and waited for the aids to place his seat between Beron's sons and Helion's clan; he had come with no generals, no family, no friends, he was completely alone.

The male didn't utter a single word as he sat, the air was tight, but he moved his gaze at long last and rested it upon y/n, narrowing his green eyes at her and tilting his head slightly as if he was trying to place her in his mind. Helion waved his hand, cutting through the ripe tension, "Let's get on with it then."

It made Rhys feel uneasy, the way Tamlin was looking at his sister and the way in which she was staring back, almost taunting him with her orbs of violent delight. He wanted to reach into her mind and tell her to stop, but her walls were strong, almost impenetrable.

Thesan cleared his throat, eager to move the meeting along so that the time spend with Tamlin was as little as possible. No one looked toward the High Lord of Dawn, not even Tamlin as he moved his eye back to Rhys and Feyre, eyes simmering with a hatred that y/n had only ever seen within her mother. He opened his mouth, and Feyre visibly braced herself, "It seems as though congratulations are in order."

Silence.

Only Rhys held his stare, and deep down, y/n could feel his wrath bubbling inside of him like a hot spring, he looked to Thesan and said, "We can talk of this matter later."

"Don't stop on my account."

Rhys' grip tightened around Feyre's knee, "I'm not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies." His gaze floated to his sister who was still staring down Tamlin, hands coiled around the arms of her chair and eyes blazing with a fury he didn't know she too possessed.

"No," Tamlin matched Rhys' tone with a certain level of ease, "You're just in the business of fucking them."

The room stilled with rage, the entire entourage of the Night Court seethed in silence, waiting for a single nod from their High Lord to allow them to tear this nothing-man into pieces.

A single claw slid from his knuckles, and the world became muffled to y/n, she wasn't focusing on anything or anyone other than him, the one making a clear threat toward her brother and his mate, her sister by law. There was nothing more sacred. Then she fell back into the room just as Tamlin smirked and angled his head at Rhys, "When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?"

Heat stained Feyre's cheeks at the question, one that sought to discount everything that she was. Beron beamed, and Eris monitored the situation carefully from his seat, but then-

Silence. A gentle kiss of breeze.

Azriel glanced to his right, expecting to see y/n sat there with hate-filled eyes, but she was gone. A wet gurgling pulled his attention, he followed the noise and his eyes widened with delight.

Y/N had winnowed right into Tamlin's lap, her elongated talons piercing the skin of his neck causing blood to trail downward and pool at the collar of his tunic. Her other hand was furled into his hair, tugging his head back roughly so that his eyes met hers. One wrong move and Tamlin was done, and he knew it, the terror clear in his panicked eyes.

"If you ever speak of my sister-in-law, or any female, in such a manner again," she spoke lowly, dangerously, like poison on the tip of a blade, "It will be the last time you speak. Am I clear?" Her talons dug in deeper, the blood staining the rings littering her fingers.

Tamlin nodded shakily, gasping for air, and y/n only smirked down at him before retracting her talons from his flesh and bringing her index finger up to her lips, painting the bottom with his blood and humming, "For a male who acts so mighty, your fear tastes delicious," she ground down on his lap and called to her companions, "I think we have seen enough, don't you?"

Huffing, Rowan rose to his feet followed by Aelin, and the pair rounded the pool, Rowan extending a hand to y/n on the way and not even flinching when her bloodied fingers used him as leverage to slide from Tamlin's thighs. "Pathetic," he spat, bewildered at how their help had been wished for when they couldn't even play nice with one another. They all needed some lessons on how to get things done.

The trio sauntered from the chamber, but stopped in place when Thesan rose to his feet and called out to them, understanding that their aid meant the difference between peace or annihilation, "Please, wait." Thesan took three steps toward the trio whose combined power rippling around them was enough to make them see stars, "Stay the night at least, allow us to prove to you that we are worthy of saving."

Without looking back like Aelin and Rowan had, y/n nodded stiffly and only once before she rounded the doors, disappearing into the palace to presumably be shown to her rooms for the evening.

And, after a fair few snarky comments and displays of power, the meeting concluded, and Rhys was the first one rising from his seat and rounding the opened doors, following that mesmerising mountainous scent all the way through palace until he met a pair of tall golden doors that were littered with engravings of clouds and stars.

The rest of the Inner Circle eventually caught up with him, panting, and Cassian especially cursing the day Rhys was born for making him rush so much. Before Rhys could even raise a fist to the door, to reunite with his sister in the way that he had dreamed of for 500 years, it opened for him, and he found Aelin lazily draped against the frame looking to him with an arched brow; she peered behind him at the rest of his family and smiled, "Come on in."

Aelin stepped aside and ushered the group into the lavish suite they had been gifted, Thesan had really pulled out all of the wonders to make their stay as comfortable as possible. Soft white walls encircled the room that was adorned with pillars of solid gold and intricate artworks that littered the ceilings, wide open arches gave way to skies caressed with oncoming darkness, and in the centre was a seating area that rivalled that of the River House, long deep rooted chairs and frilled pillows, a square glass table at the centre and a fire raging on against the wall.

Upon one of the many seats, the Inner Circle found Rowan, feet propped up on the glass and head craned to meet them, "She'll be out in a minute," he drawled, "She's getting used to how large her bed is."

"I was washing the blood off my hands, thank you very much," y/n waltzed in from the open door on the left, wiping her cleared palms against the deep blue skirt of her dress, "You make me sound like such a princess."

Rowan rolled his eyes and dipped his head backward, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, like her testing his patience was a common occurrence, "I would like to remind you that you were one. For 500 years. And I've known you for half of that time."

Y/N straightened and shrugged, "Fair enough," she turned on the balls of her bare feet to face Rhys and angled her head to the side, waving her gaze from his feet to his crown, "Who would have ever thought that we'd end up like this?"

A High Lord and Queen.

Rhys' smile widened as he beheld her, as they all did actually, the dark monster vanquished into a sea of light leaving behind something airy and fresh, "Certainly not me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Her smile faltered, "Me neither," she took a step toward him, "You gave me quite a scare you know, with that message."

Rhys matched her step, "That was never my intention."

"I know," she loosened her shoulders, "We'll help, even if the other High Lords of this land don't know the meaning of decorum."

Adoration flashed in his eyes, "Thank you, for what you did in there for Feyre. It was-"

"Terrifying?" Y/N moved like the wind, approaching her brother and taking his hands in hers, "I'll do anything to protect family."

And the Inner Circle knew that the protection she spoke of also extended to them, to the found family Rhys had formed in her void.

Snapping back into reality, Rhys placed a tender kiss on her brow and then angled his body to allow his family a chance to really see her, "Y/N," he began, tugging her to the jumbled line his circle had formed, "You know Feyre, my High Lady and mate, and this her sister, Nesta," the pair smiled warmly at one another whilst Nesta watched on, unphased, "This is Amren, my second in command. Cassian, the general of my armies. Mor, your cousin," Mor beamed at the sentiment, she was astounded to be related to someone so incredibly powerful and beautiful, "And then this is-"

"Azriel," the Shadowsinger interrupted, taking a single step forward causing y/n to crane her neck to get a better look at him.

Tendrils of darkness poked over his shoulders and combed through her hair, placing delicate kisses against her cheeks whilst she drank him in. Azriel was beautiful, dark hair and brooding hazel orbs, tattoos that crept up his arms and peered out of the collar of his second skin, a perfectly sloped nose and full lips, and a jaw so sharp she felt as though if she reached out to touch it then her fingers would return to her sliced.

"Azriel," the faint whisper sounded like a sonnet to his ears, and her offered a small smile, and she returned it instantly, unable to tear her eyes away from his until Cassian cut through the moment.

"Hate to break up whatever this is," he spoke with a wink in Azriel's direction who contained his growl to silence, "But we have to know everything about you. It's not every day that your best friend forgets to tell you that he has a sister in another world."

Shaking her head with a slight blush creeping up her cheeks, y/n motioned to the seating area, moving from Azriel and leaving his shadows pining after her to find a space in the centre of one of the four plush benches, "Sit. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Azriel moved first, wasting no time in taking the seat to her left whilst Rhys took the space to her right, the rest of the inner circle filled the other vacancies, Cassian puffing out his chest when he fell beside Rowan, the latter of who just grinned at the action, and Nesta partly cowering away from Aelin who watched her with a raised brow.

"How old are you?" Mor asked with a voice of wonder, she should have been angry at Rhys the moment she found out that she had another cousin that had been hidden from her, but for some reason she wasn't.

Y/N glanced to Rhys, "I'm 508, give or take a couple of years."

"So you were banished when you were a baby?"

"Yes. I hadn't even reached my second year, " y/n smiled sadly, "The Sidra flooded the city when I was born, our father said that an uncontrollable storm raged on for two weeks afterward. It was clear that I had a power that couldn't be tamed here, so I was sent to my mother in Doranelle, and she raised me."

"I remember that storm," Mor spoke faintly, brow furrowed as she recounted the night when the lightening cracked over the Court of Nightmares, causing the entire city to seek refuge indoors for four whole days and nights, "I didn't realise that it was you."

"Yes, well," y/n trailed, "It's not everyday a High Lord fucks a Valg queen but here we are."

Feyre suppressed a chuckle at y/n's tone, one that was light and attempting to find the silver lining of it all.

Rhys lay a sturdy hand on her knee and pulled her attention to him, unspoken words of an eon drifted between them, "If it's any consolation, I think that father sent you away because he knew that you were meant to be more than a High Lord's trophy wife. Males would wage wars to control a power like yours."

Feyre spoke next, asking, "What is it that you can do?"

Laying her palm open toward the ceiling, the room watched intently as blue sparks of lightening coursed over her fingertips and curled around her wrists, "I can mostly control the weather, storms to be exact, and water also answers my call."

"Tell them the truth, y/n," Aelin teased, "Stop trying to lessen your worth," she told y/n sternly, holding her gaze and sighing when she didn't elaborate, "She decimated an entire army with that power to save me, and the entire world. It nearly killed her. Erilea owes her a great debt. That's why she is queen, not because of her birth right, but because she sacrificed herself to make the world a better place."

"So, you control storms, huh?" Cassian cut through the pause, threading his fingers behind his head and leaning back into the seat, his face a mixture of impress and challenge.

Y/N raised a goblet to her lips, causing Azriel to wonder where exactly she had gotten it from, and drank slowly, "There's a reason that storms are named after women."

"Can you fight?" Mor asked, eager to know if she could train with her cousin, wanting to spend as much time with her as possible with the time they had together.

Rowan huffed and then frowned when Aelin dug her elbow into his ribs, but it didn't hurt him, not one bit. "You can thank me for that."

"He trained you?" Cassian asked with disbelief, his shoulders squaring and eyes narrowing at the white haired fae prince.

"I can show you if you'd like?" Y/N smirked through her lashes, eyes swimming with unmatched mischief as Cassian turned to her and grinned, thinking it would be an easy win for him. "If you're up to the challenge?"

"I would be honoured to show you how us Illyrians fight. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two." Cassian wriggled his brows at y/n but he failed to notice the glance she sent to Rowan who was rolling his eyes in her direction, and something told Azriel that Cassian would be eating those words once the morning came to pass.

Author's Note

Part 2 is here my lovelies!

As always let me know what you think!

Taglist

@userxs-blog @riorgail @fandomarchiveilyd @booksandbud4me @acourtofbatboydreams @sidthedollface2 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @tenshis-cake @rcarbo1 @doodlebugg16-blog @snoopyspace @superspideyparker

[munsons-hellfire]

Lost Part 1 | Cassian

SUMMARY: You were the princess of the Spring Court. But you no longer wanted to follow behind your brother. When Feyre decides to leave, she takes you and Lucien. But with the discovery of your mate and a war on its way you start to feel so lost.

PAIRINGS: Cassian x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, mfw, part 1, I might have missed something but I don't think this really has a lot of warning in this part. Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I ended up turning this into a few parts. There are a few points I want to touch and I don't think it would've been a good idea to do one whole part. If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know down in the comments. The sumary will most likely stay the same I'm not sure yet.

WORD COUNT: 2.0K

It felt like forever. The torture you faced under your bother’s ruleing. It wasn’t protection as he liked to call it. It was a prison, Tamlin had taken over after your father had been killed. You hadn’t been able to shed a tear when it happened, you always assumed that you weren’t meant to be in the Spring Court. When Feyre arrived as a human, you knew she was your chance for an escape.

So when she took the opportune moment to leave, you followed right behind her. Currently you didn’t understand how you had found yourself in this situation. You, Feyre, and Lucien had been on the run from the Spring Court. Little cuts littered your chest, arms, neck, and face. It was so cold, you didn’t know if you could hold on any longer. One of Lucien’s brothers was on top of you, holding you against the ice.

He lifts your head up and slams it down into the ice hard. Stars are dancing around your eyes, as you struggle to keep the blade from going into your throat. Your hand was on the blade, blood dripping onto your neck. A whimper escaped your lips as he stared down at you with a malevolent smile.

“You make such pretty sounds, I wonder what else I could get out of you.” He whispered, his tongue licking up the side of your chin all the way to your pointed ear.

You tried to push the male of you but it was no use. He was far stronger than you, and right now you were too weak. You couldn’t access your power considering you were drained. There were plants all around you even in the Winter Court but that was the last thing on your mind. It also didn’t help that you had never learned to fight. Tamlin had thought it was best you learn how to be a housemaid, how to be a mother, how to take care of your future husband.

Whatever the case may be you learned everything except how to fight and how to use your powers in a situation like this, it was biting you in the ass. Where Tamlin could shape-shift, you could manipulate the plants around you. But your brother didn’t know that, you knew better than to tell him your secret. Just before he could do further damage to you another male flew into him knocking him to the ice.

You turned to your side, a wince leaving your lips as you watched that same male throw a punch into his face. He continued to do so, he hadn’t been able to stop until someone had pulled him off Lucien’s brother. He wasn’t dead, you knew that he was knocked out cold. Your breath was shallow, as the male turned towards you red siphons glistening in the darkness of the night. He was leaning over you, hazel eyes searching you.

He gently picked you up, resting your head to his chest while he cradled the rest of your body. You stared up at him, when he looked back down at you, it snapped. Just before you closed your eyes you felt the gold thread tied around your heart. The mating bond had snapped, you were tied to the male that had just saved you. Now that you were safe you could close your eyes and that’s exactly what you did.

☾

Rhysand stood next to his brother as Madja worked on you. Cassian had his arms crossed over his chest, he was leaning against the door. The male was trying his hardest not to hover over Madja while she worked on his mate. But it was excruciating not to be next to you to hold your hand while she healed you.

“Are you positive?” Rhysand asked again, finally looking over at his brother. Feyre was at the end of the hallway, with Azriel as well. Lucien was also there but Cassian didn’t care much for him, his brother was responsible for the injuries to his mate. He wanted to kill him so they were standing guard in front of Lucien.

“Yes. The Princess of the Spring Court is my mate. I know she felt it too.” Cassian explained again, saying the same thing he’d consistently said when they had arrived back home. Cassian paused, staring briefly at his brother. “Do you really think she has powers?”

“Feyre believed it, and I know what I saw when we were under the mountain. Tamlin didn’t see it but Amarantha did. She protected herself in a cocoon of vines. Whatever she can do, she’s more powerful than she believes herself to be.”

Cassian had heard mentions of the story about how you’d protected yourself to avoid the affliction of pain at the wrath of Amarantha. She loved your older brother, but she hated you. So she’d made your torture just as cruel and wicked as Feyre had gone through. She even locked you up with Feyre, keeping you distanced from the only family you’d ever known. Tamlin. Lucien.

Rhys had told Cass that he had done everything in his power to keep you safe. But when that happened, everything changed. He knew eventually you’d be in his court. Tamlin would destroy you, and it looks like he’d already done just that. Finally Rhys looked back at Cassian again.

“We need to keep her safe.”

“She’s my mate, I won’t let her go back to that bastard of a brother. She’s safe here.” Cassian stated calmly. He caught Rhys looking down the hall to Feyre who gave a nod.

“Then you both need to accept the bond officially, Tamlin will demand her back. And if it isn’t accepted we have no choice but to hand her back over.”

“I’ll discuss it with her when she’s awake. Until then I can’t do much.”

Rhys gave a nod of his head as Madja walked up to them. “She is healed, though she might be out for a few days. Everything was drained, powers included. She needs time to rest.” Madja explained.

“Thank you.” Cassian said, stepping past the healer and walking into the room. He grabbed a chair and set it next to your bed. Then he reached for your hand, holding it in his. Cassian would wait days for you to wake up, as long as you came back to him.

☾

You held onto that thread when you thought you might die. Slowly you blinked open your eyes, a groan escaped your lips. You looked around the room noticing that you weren’t in the Spring Court. Then the memories of what had happened came flashing back into your mind. Panic started to rush through your body, however a hand gave you a comforting squeeze. You turned your head to see the male that had saved you holding onto it.

Just like you remembered he had red siphons on his body. Seven of them to be exact. His black hair was shoulder length, some of it was tied back in a small bun. He looked sexy with his hair that way. A smirk covered his lips, he must have seen what you were thinking was plastered on your face. His golden-brown skin made him look just as handsome. You could see some tattoos peaking through his shirt.

It was a gray shirt and was fitted perfectly to his upper body. You wondered what everything looked like underneath his clothes. Your mind started to drift, thinking of what he’d feel like against you, naked. His pulling of the chair brought you out of your thoughts, you decided to pull yourself up slightly so you could lean against the headboard. You felt the golden string that connected you to him. It was such a pain to not be closer to him. You needed him closer.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice was soft as you asked the question. He stared at you, the confusion was there only for a moment before it switched to understanding. You watched as the male stood from the chair, removed his boats and climbed into your bed. He leaned you forward gently, sitting behind you.

When he settled down into the bed, he pulled you towards his chest. You had noticed that somewhere in between him joining you on the bed he'd taken off his shirt so you could feel his warmth. You rested your head back on his chest, and closed your eyes feeling the bond shine brightly at the touch.

“I’m Cassian.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence.

“Y/N.” You paused, pulling his large hand into yours and entangling your fingers together. You didn’t understand how you’d gotten so lucky to be blessed with a mate provided by the Mother. “So you really are my mate?”

You questioned finally. Maybe this was all a dream, and you’d wake back up in the Spring Court. You didn’t want that though, you’d known you had finally gotten away from your brother's temper and you couldn’t go back to it. Things had gotten worse for you when you’d all returned from under the mountain.

“I am.” Cassian’s words were so comforting as he said them.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get a mate. I… Tam said I’d never experience this. That I’d be marrying off to someone who would never be my mate.” You felt your mate tighten his grip around your waist, his jealousy was evident but you didn’t mind it. Oddly enough it felt comforting, you’d been missing something like that for a long time.

Cassian clenched his jaw at the mere mention of what your brother had in store for you when the time was right. He nudged his nose into your hair. “I can assure you mate, that’ll never happen. I will not allow your brother to take you away from me.”

“But Tam, he’ll try to get me back. I am the princess of the Spring Court after all. He’ll try to call a meeting, to call for a battle against this court.” The worry was evident in your voice as you spoke the words that Rhys had mentioned a few days ago.

“If we accept the mating bond, your brother can not do anything about it. We can accept it then see a Priestess.”

You wanted to reject the idea of accepting the bond so quickly, but you knew that was a lie. Cassian was your mate, and you were his. This had to be done, and it had to happen now. A war loomed over your heads because of your brother. He’d chosen the wrong side and you wouldn’t stand by anymore. Not with what you could do.

“Let’s do it.” You spoke finally. “I need a day, and we need somewhere where it can be just the two of us. When we come back we’ll see a Priestess.”

“I have a place in mind for privacy.” Cassian said, a smirk on his lips. “I can give you a day as well. But after that you’re mine forever, princess.” You only gave a nod and closed your eyes leaning further into Cassian’s chest. It wasn’t until you were finally asleep, breathing evenly that Cassian called to Rhys in his mind.

“How is she?” It was the first question he had asked when the conversation started.

“She’s fine.” Cassian paused, he glanced down at his mate. “She wants to accept the bond.”

“Good. That’s excellent news brother. I think we could all use that right now.”

“We’re gonna head to the cabin for a few days, then we’ll see a Priestess when we come back.”

“Sounds like a plan. When you both come back we’ll discuss what to do in case Tamlin does try to do something. I want to help her learn her powers if she’ll let me.”

“I think she’d be more than willing to learn. I think it would be great to start training with her as well even if we don’t get far into it.”

“Good idea, brother. Both of you get some rest. I’ll let Feyre know she’s doing better.”

With those words Cassian felt his High Lord leave his mind. When Cassian looked back down at you he noticed that you were asleep. The fae lights in the room dimmed down allowing only the moonlight into the room. Cassian held onto you tightly as you slept on top of his form. This wasn’t the best of circumstances, how he found you. But he was so glad that he’d found you when you needed him most.

[lure-of-writing]

Never been good enough

Authors note: I haven't written in forever so please forgive me if this isn't the best but I would love to hear what you think!

Summary: You would never be good enough for Ariel

Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: Arguing, curse words, mentions of death, Elain slander, Tamlin makes an appearance

Part two: Left in regret

Part three: Why can't We?

There was always something so enticing about Azriel that you could never put your finger on. To simply put it he was fascinating. Being a part of the inner circle for as long as you have meant that you put your feelings for him aside, did what you thought was best for the group. Not only that but Azriel never gave you any signs that he was interested in you and there was no way you would let him know about your feelings. What if you guys dated and it didn't work out? Or worse, what if you told him and he didn’t feel the same way? These types of thoughts made a home in your head and they made it a point to consistently remind you that Azriel would only ever be a friend. But hey, better a friend then nothing at all, Right?

That was until Rhysand met Feyre and in turn met Nesta and Elain. This is where your downfall began. You were truly happy for your high lord and new high lady but could have done without her sisters. Nesta was always ready to pick a fight and tear you down with her words as if she were some wild animal backed into a corner that would bite if you tried to pet it. The comparison wasn’t far off, she basically was a wild animal. Elain on the other hand was, well, contemptible at best. From what you knew Elain was basically loved by all in the inner circle but you. There was just something about her that irked you to your core. In a world that praised the strong and belittled the weak, her innocence bothered you. Why did Feyre have to do everything for her sisters, especially the middle one? As an older sister yourself you would have made any sacrifice necessary to protect your little sister. In fact you did. Maybe that's why you resented the middle sister. 

Before the new additions were made to your family life was perfect, before under the mountain of course, the group was a perfectly balanced number and each person had their person. Rys with Armen, Mor and Cassian, you and Azriel. The group would spend long days giving each other a run for their money with stupid bets and at night you would have an even longer night getting drunk at ritas, but ever since Ryhsand met Feyre things changed almost instantly. It was like the people you once knew completely changed over night. You still knew who they were to their core but you didn’t recognize who they had become. 

Cassian bowed to an unwavering, impolite, ungrateful human turned fae also known as Nesta, he was willing to die for someone who would never give the time of day to even acknowledge that he existed. Amren found company in her ruthlessness, found friendship and understanding in her unbothered face. 

Mor found sisterhood among the complexities of healing with Feyre, through the grief and joy and thousands of other emotions one feels when finding themselves after trauma.

Ryhsand found his mate, the one he never thought he would meet. The one he was willing to die for as long as that meant she was safe.  

Azriel saw the need to protect someone as delicate as Elain. So he did. 

And you, you found a changed group of people before your very own eyes. 

“Azriel can I please hold the fancy special dagger?” the Shadowsinger simply stares at you from the other side of the ring. Today had been training day for everyone excluding Amren, if you asked her she would say it didn’t pertain to her, and while the boys took turns sparring you were teaching Mor a new fighting technique you learned recently. “No” the short answer was no surprise to you at all. “Why not? I even said please and I never say please” the inner circle could not wait to witness this scene unfold for this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence but considering that you were Azriels favorite amongst the group even if he refused to say it, they thought that maybe one day you would wear him down enough to the point where he lets you hold the truth teller. “y/n I have never let anyone hold that dagger and you will not be the first. You are more than capable of handling yourself without my blade.” “Exactly I am more than capable of handling a dagger Azriel. One day I will get the truth teller in my hands just you wait.” he simply raised his shoulders in a shrugging manner as if to say “yeah I’m not concerned”

To say you were surprised that Azriel gave Elain the truth teller would be an understatement but honestly you should of seen it coming. Not even a few days before he was rushing into the hybern camp to save Elain without any second thought. There was never a time in the five hundred years where Azriel threw himself into a situation like that where he didn’t at least take some time to plan everything out. As a spy yourself you knew that at least having a fraction of a plan could save your life but it appeared Arizel was willing to die to save her. Feyre's sister be damned. So to watch from afar as he handed over his dagger to inexperienced hands was truly a gut wrenching experience. How could your closest friend of literally hundreds of years spend his potentially last moments with someone who was basically a stranger instead of a true friend? It was a revealing moment, it either showed how kind he was to try and help a defenseless person have a means to defend themselves if the time came where it was needed or he truly had changed and no longer cared for you. You would have your answer sooner than you had hoped. 

For as long as you have existed you were trained as a spy for the cover up of an  assassin. It made you as deadly as anyone else in the inner circle, maybe even deadlier since no one ever saw their death by your hands coming. So when the time came to go to war you were ready. The Battle was bloody and ugly and cruel. It was long and it felt never ending for every body you cut down it seemed there was ten more to replace it. When you watched as Cassin dove from the sky just as the cauldron unleashed its power amongst the world, the fight seemed hopeless. How were you supposed to win when hybern had that kind of power to be used whenever the king wished? But as a warrior in your own right you just wished that when you died upon this battle field that it wasn’t for nothing. That everyone in your family made it home by the end of this war, you may not recognize your family anymore but they meant the world to you and you just wanted them to be safe no matter the cost. 

Seeing help arrive re-established your hope that Hybern wouldn’t win and it pushed you to fight that much harder but the renewed sense of vigor made you lose focus and that was your downfall. A hybern soldier came charging at you with the anger of a thousand suns and sliced your stomach in one quick motion and before you knew it you were one the ground bleeding out. 

The inner circle was checking on Cassian when an unexpected figure came walking in with your limp body in their arms. “Oh gods, y/n!’’ Mor was the first to stand up and gawk at you in Tamlins arms before the healers directed him to a place where they could properly work on you. Nothing was said as the healers started working, as the inner circles' minds were racing and as Tamlin was leaving. “Thank you” Tamlin didn’t even stop to acknowledge Rhysands form of gratitude. Azriel was the first to speak “How did we forget about her?” no one had an answer.  

Once back in Velaris with your healing underway you could tell that something was off within the group besides the obvious effects of a battle like that and a gut feeling told what it was. You could feel this sense of guilt every time you stepped foot into a room and you knew it was that they forgot about you, they never said that they did but while you were unconscious you could hear everything, and what you heard broke your heart. You were becoming an outsider in your own family. 

You watched day by day as Amren bickered with Nesta, Ryhsand flirt with Feyre and cassian with Nesta, watched as Elain and Azriel danced the line of lovers and watched as you were slowly distanced from the group but it all came to a head after a heated argument with Elain. You were sick and tired of her acting like she was helpless when she wasn’t. She was cauldron made and she needed to start acting like it or else it would get someone killed or even herself. It happened on a training day. 

The sun was beating down on your tired body and the whisper of a breeze was doing little to help and listening to Elain ask Azriel for help was driving you up a wall. “Azriel can you help me? I don’t think I'm doing this right?”  all she was doing was stretching and she needed help with it? “For fucks sake Elain do you want him to spoon feed you and wipe your ass for you while hes at it?” Everyone stopped at your outburst and stared at you. Nesta looked like she was ready to rip off your face but Azriel beat her to it “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you watched as she shifted her body to be behind his as if she knew he would fight her battles for her. “What it means Azriel” you stalked into his space until you were face to face and watched over his shoulder and Elain moved to seek comfort between her sister and the high lord and you couldn’t help but scoff at her theatrics 

 “Is that all this group ever seems to do is baby her! She is not a child, she can handle herself. She doesn’t need you to teach her how to touch her toes Azriel but heaven forbid poor sweet Elain has to do something on her own for once. I mean my gods what aren’t you willing to do for her Azriel? Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t you give her the truth teller?” Azriel was quick to interrupt “Is that what this is seriously about?” if looks could kill he would be dead because your glare is cutting him up into pieces “I wasn’t done. You gave her your dagger, you went into a hybern camp to save her, you answer her every single beck and call as if she's not fully capable of doing things for herself. You all enable this, every single one of you!” you point to every member of the inner circle “ And I have had enough of this bullshit! Its ridiculous! Elain loves to play sweet and innocent but really she just loves having people dote on her and not having to do anything herself.”  Everyone knew you were seething for they could see the redness creeping up your neck and into your face. And apparently you pissed off Elain

 “So what if Azriel did those things for me it has nothing to do with you so mind your own business.” you knew she wasn’t as nice as she seemed. “This has everything to do with me! I used to be his best friend, me! Not you! I watched everyone change when your family came along and it ruined mine! I have been in love with Azriel since the day I met him and yet I’ve had to watch him fall for you, who he hasn’t even known for two seconds! I heard him say that they forgot about me on the battlefield after hybern! So yes this is about me, I am an outsider in my own family!” The silence was deafening after watching you fight to speak through your tears and cracking voice. No one dared to move for fear of upsetting you even more or maybe it was the weight of your words keeping them in place. Azriel went to place a hand on top of your shoulder but you were quick to step out of his reach. “Y/n I had no idea you felt that way” again you couldn’t help but scoff “Of course not because you were too busy with sweet Elain to notice anything else.” he shook his head as if in a silent no “I am so sorry that we forgot about you there is no excuse it should of never happened. I-we never knew you felt this way, felt like you were being pushed away. But y/n why didn’t you ever tell me that you had feelings for me?” something broke in Azriels heart watching you cry, watched as your face scrunched in pain while you fought back sobs from taking over your body. Something pulled him to comfort you but he knew better than that. He couldn’t, not with Elain here.

“I have been telling you for five hundred years Azriel how much more do you want me to do? I may have never flat out said it but why do you think I stayed up waiting for you to come home after missions, or why I defended you against the teasing, or why I showed you my love in a thousand different ways but you never noticed even though you are the head spy master of the night court.” a sob racked your body forcing you to stop and Azriel wanted nothing more than to hold you until the tears stopped flowing and you felt whole again something in his soul was pulling him towards you but your next words stopped him in his tracks. “I never told you because to you it seems that I have never just been good enough. I have never been enough for you.”

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons: marriage and domesticity with acotar characters ♡

↳ includes rhysand, feyre, azriel, cassian, morrigan, lucien, tamlin, and amren. unfortunately, those are the only characters i know well enough to write for but more will come in the future!

↳ fluff to the max and then more fluff. children, pregnancy, marriage, family, home dynamics.

rhysand:

-strives to have a very welcoming, comforting home. buys luxurious throw pillows from stories in velaris even though you scold him for each one he adds to his already huge collection. he just wants every surface to feel comfortable so he also buys the best mattresses and couches and will spend hours in a store picking them.

-loves to have an occasional meal cooked entirely by your family. he puts on a silly apron and dances around the kitchen, sprinkling spices willy-nilly. "accidentally" gets food on your cheek which he will happily kiss away.

-feels so proud to have his own family that loves each other unconditionally and would do anything to protect that. you and your kids are the most important thing to him and he could be a very scary person if he ever feels that you're being threatened. is much more careful in his day-to-day life because he knows that there are people who wait on him to come home.

feyre:

-if you were pregnant, feyre would be as caring as she could be. she'd wait on you hand and foot and massage anything that hurt. she'd find you the best calming and soothing lotions for your tummy. every so often, she'd lay on your tummy and tell your kid all the the great things they'll be born into.

-feyre's paintings all over the house :(( she has a little art studio which is constantly messy but you proudly hang everything she does in special little spots everywhere. she loooooves doing portraits of you and the two of you together.

-her life is already very grand so she loves nothing more than having a peaceful night indoors with you. she holds out for the weekends when you can sleep in, cuddle all day, and read together. she makes the best teas and surprises you with them on cozy sunday mornings!

azriel:

-his home is immaculate, cleaned spotless, and a little minimalist. if this isn't your style, he will gladly give you the ability to decorate the space as long as it's clean. azriel scrubbing the kitchen in bright latex gloves is not a rare sight. he just likes the comfort it brings him after the gory things he does for his job.

-he gets you the prettiest, most personalized engagement ring ever. he listens to you so closely and is so attentive that he knew exactly what you would like. he had it designed by a jeweler in velaris and it's probably engraved with something incredibly sentimental.

-he loves matching clothes in the privacy of his home! like matching silk pajama sets? yes please! listen, i've said it before and i'll say it again, azriel lives for the fancier things in life and he just wants to share that with you! he encourages you to wear the same soft and comfortable pajama pants that he is.

cassian:

-destroys the house with his kids! makes a big mess while playing with them. like pillow fights and paints and water and intense acting with toys. you continuously scold him for it and he always cleans up all nice but he can't help it! he just wants to give his kids the most fun childhood ever.

-would lose his SHIT if his kids had wings oh my god. wants to show them how to fly and take them on flights above beautiful landscapes. is probably the dad to push the kid into the water to get them used to it and this applies to flying. "it's just how illyrians learn, baby!" "he's not even a full illyrian!"

-his house is colorful and full of memories everywhere. pictures of the inner circle, of you, of the kids, anyone. keeps anything his kids make him. keeps any gift you give him. tapes notes and invitations to the fridge. he's just so sentimental like that!

morrigan:

-cried like a baby at your wedding. no matter if you walked down the aisle or if she did, she was crying instantly. rhys nudged her shoulder and cassian and azriel laughed at her afterward but you only smiled at her and helped her touch up her makeup!

-is a little hesitant to begin a family. it's more to do with her past and her family than anything else. she doesn't want to give anyone that power over her. if you are really excited about starting a family, she would certainly hear you out and if it did happen, she'd be the best mother ever.

-comes home to you with gifts every day. you keep telling her you don't need them but you gotta let her spoil you! one day it is a new ring that perfectly matches the stone in your engagement ring and that you should totally put on your right hand pointer finger because it would look best!

lucien:

-would totally thrive with a big family. like he would know everyone's interests, what they're up to, their friends, their food preferences, everything. gives them all equal attention and can wrangle them all together with expertise.

-i feel like he really loves showers and baths with you. like unless he was super stinky or unless you were gone, he would just not shower unless it was with you. he loves the intimacy and the closeness it brings!! and he loves washing your hair for you or brushing it or braiding it for you!

-one of his hobbies is mixology! i can't explain it but just imagine lucien having this home bar cart with all kinds of syrups and fancy alcohols and he cares about the dates on them and pairs the perfect wine with his meals! you can give him any three words that'll describe the drink you want and he'll mix it all up and it will taste amazing!

tamlin:

-GIRL DAD! imagine him taking her out to buy dresses for anything she needs, putting little flowers in her ear when they go on walks together, doing tea parties with her. tell me you don't see this. i dare you.

-usually gets up pretty early to go and do his high lord duties but he will come and check on you throughout the day, giving you kisses and treats and notes! he always wants to spend meals with you and will stop anything he's doing if alis tells him that you're ready to eat lunch! you've never seen a man set the table faster and pat the seat next to him.

-any room in the house that you want will be yours! if you want one of the guest bedrooms to be turned into a craft studio, done. if you want a section of the library dedicated to romance books, done! i'm serious when i say he'd give you anything you want to make sure his home is just as comfy for you as it is for him.

amren:

-values alone time just as much as she values time with you. she likes when the two of you can spend time inside doing your own thing but then can come back together at night and talk about your days! she's not ashamed to ask if she can spend the night in her bed because she's had a long day! but she's always reassuring you that it has nothing to do with you so you don't worry!

-probably isn't a very big kid enjoyer but wouldn't mind adopting someone older! or, even better, a cat! amren would spoil the hell out of a cat that you raise together. "am, i don't think she needs another sweater. she doesn't like wearing them anyway." "but this one says be paw-sitive!"

-people don't believe you when you talk about how soft and sweet amren is when you're at home! they don't think that she's capable of hugging you tight and covering you in kisses but she is! she's a private gal and you respect that entirely! but you also can't help telling mor about all of the sweet things she whispers to you as you're falling asleep.

[danikamariewrites]

If you're willing to do a more platonic/familial request, could you do some headcanons on being Rhysand's youngest sister?? And then I had an additional idea of being his sister + Azris' mate... but I'll let you decide which aspects you'd like to write about :) (if you want to write about it at all, of course!)

Princess of the Night Court

IC x reader (platonic)

Notes: I went with reader just being the sister I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to explore this dynamic before hopping outside the night court

Warnings: some angst

Being the second born of the former NC High Lord meant you had the freedoms to do some things your brother couldn’t

However much you pushed your brother’s buttons when he became High Lord you still loved each other. And you really stepped up to help him with his royal duties

You were a bit nervous and relieved when your father died. You knew what he expected of you but you were unsure how the power and position would change Rhys

The biggest blessing Rhys gave you was the freedom to marry whoever and whenever. There was no pressure and he would not dare use you as a bargaining tool, ever

Being princess came with the never ending princess treatment

Your people adored you and you them

You frequented shops in Velaris and always made sure to talk with everyone and hear their troubles

It also meant that Azriel and Cassian were your forever body guards

And how fun is it to ditch them?! It’s even more fun when they finally track you down. Their faces all scrunched in anger and that vein popping in Cassian’s forehead that you just want to poke

The two were your brothers, there was no denying Az and Cass treated you like the sister they never had

They were just as protective (maybe more at times) than Rhys is of you and you loved them for it

When you had your first heartbreak one of the first people you went to for comfort was Azriel. He was always your shoulder to cry on and he’s a good listener

The three of them would be up anyone that hurt you

To try and have some semblance of a normal life while Rhys was gone you tried to date. It did not go well. The male you went to dinner with had said some nasty things about your family and came home bawling your eyes out. When you told Cass, Az, and Mor, Cassian was the most angry. He left and came home with bloody knuckles. That night he sat next to your bed reading you stories like when you were little

After Rhys came home from under the mountain you gave him his space and were more serious than usual

Something you hadn’t had in a long time with your brother was a sleepover. You used to crawl into his bed at night when you had nightmares and Rhys would reassure you that everything would be ok

Just as you were planning to go to Rhys for a sleepover to make him feel normal a knock sounded at your door. Opening it you found your brother looking disheveled and on the verge of tears. You pulled him in and you got into your bed. You laid there in silence for a very long time, both wide awake. “I know you can’t and don’t want to talk about everything yet. But we’re all here for you Rhys. I’m here for you big brother. And I won’t think any differently of you for any of it.” Rhys just pulled you into a bone crushing hug and cried and cried until he fell asleep. You hadn’t seen him cry like that since your mother died

Out of everyone of the Inner Circle you were the most overjoyed to have Rhys home

You did everything in your power to make sure he was comfortable and welcome

The sacrifices he made for the court were ones you would never forget

Watching Rhys fall in love with Feyre made your heart swell. You saw a light burn in him that hadn’t been there since he was younger

Becoming friends with Feyre was a journey

She didn’t like you at first since she only knew the stories that Tamlin and Lucien had told her

Fun lil bit of history Tamlin left out was that you and him hooked up but he was kinda mad it was only ever that and not more

But when you and Mor broke through and Feyre trusted you enough her friendship was a beautiful thing

And you had a new buddy to pick on Cassian with

Learning Feyre was pregnant after the war you were so excited to be an aunt! You were going to spoil the shit out of this baby boy

[acotarxreader]

Mirror Part Two

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: High angst, drama, fluff, injury, Tamlin

Synopsis: After your abrupt exit from the night court you return to your worldly travels but the rising threat of war with Hybern has Rhysand seeking out his favourite weapon once again

Synopsis: You were gifted with the ability to mirror other fae's magic with a simple touch and your free spirit nature leads you to cross very close to the borders of a hidden city, where your future best friends and soulmate snatch you out of the sky to protect their border.

Inspired by Who's Afraid of Little Old Me & My Tears Ricochet by Taylor M.F Swift

A/N: Welcome to part two of this dramatic guy! Sorry for the lil wait! Let me know what you think friends!

I think I'm gonna write my first Eris fic hehe

Requests Open

Part 1

--------------------------------------------------------------

The War with Hybern

You passed through the mist like the shadows of the night that swaddled you, deep south in Prythian, practically in the Mortal Realm. Spring Court had crumbled to the weeds and whims of the High Lady of Night, your mortal enemy that you never met. You drifted from the face of the earth like the ghost Rhysand’s neglect had turned you into, banished to exile from the world that broke your body before breaking your spirit. You adjusted to the loneliness with surprising ease, melting back into the solitary figure you were when taken from the skies above Velaris, your free spirit exchanged for a shattered one. The events of the budding war with Hybern came to your knowledge through the ever-winding grapevine of gossip and tales. The very escapades of your former family and its new members provided you with equal amounts of amusement and worry.

“Bad dog!” You flung your shoe playfully at the great towering beast at the entrance of the cave you were currently occupying, the green-eyed beast released a growl as he dropped the carcass of the freshly slaughtered deer on your doorstep, tracking blood all over the rock. 

“How I love your visits dear YN” He growled before tilting his head slightly and returning to the wild. You and Tamlin now had a shared interest in your hatred of the Night Court’s leadership, his welcome of your travels through the shell of his court for the first time in centuries gave you the flicker of a homily feeling you’d banished from your heart. You used the Spring Court as you had The Middle, as a base of operations before travelling to see every inch of the world you could. He offered to bring you to the countless run-ins he had had with the Court of Dreams as a new war with Hybern began to threaten the peace. You weren’t really sure if it was so much because of Rhysand that it was because of Azriel that you hadn’t returned, the shattered friendship too much to think of. You watched an onyx shadow leak from your knotted knuckles, the last trace of Azriel you had to hold on to. Your shadows pulled along the carcass of the animal, the sight turning something in your stomach. You shuddered slightly, a sense of alarm growing in you at something in your world being tampered with. 

You winnowed to the ruins of the Tamlin’s residence, the shell of once reviled power and grace much like the owner. Traipsing up the steps of the crumbling house, the sound of a male you hadn’t heard from in such a long time rocketed through your system. 

“Rhysand?” You heard your voice speak without making the conscious decision to, Tamlin lifted his head from his hands as he sat at the rotting table, Rhysand spinning with unusual unease at the sound of your voice. 

“YN-” He took a step towards you instinctively, you following your own intuition, stepping back from him. “-You’re here?” “No need for the personal visit High Lord, if you wanted me dead you should have just said” 

“YN, I can’t believe you’re really here” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, his best had tracked your movements to the discarded court. 

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you. Why are you here?” You chewed out, the ghost of a smirk passing Tamlin's face. 

“Just visiting the High Lord of Spring” “Why? Need him as a weapon? Find value in him now you need him for war games?” Your icy words plummeted the temperature in the room, Rhysands wings slumping. 

“YN, don’t be like that”

“You can leave, Tamlin like many others, do not need you to faux interest in our lives for them to hold value” You circled around the table, running parallel to him across the dissolving oak to land next to Tamlin as he sat back in his chair, quietly smug.

“So, are you in love?” You laughed at his question, Tamlin matching the sound. 

“No, I think you took any ability for me to feel that from me” Rhysand searched your eyes for the way you used to look at him, for any semblance of the female who’d cleave the world apart for him, for any leverage he might still have with you. 

“You’ve made your request Rhysand, go” Tamlin found some ounce of long-dead confidence in him to shun the Lord of Night. 

“Hm” Was all he replied, moving to dissolve but stopping to witness a small shadow leak from your fist, a sign you had potentially seen Azriel recently, not the truth which was that you had kept the shadows with you since you fled, the last connection to a feeling of home. He nodded his head, a small laugh leaving him before vanishing. You pushed the back of Tamlin's chair to turn him to face you in his seat. 

“What request?” “Hybern is preparing to rage a war, he needs further assistance” He practically whispered before standing again and crossing the ruins of the dining room.

“So I was right, he did just want you as a weapon” “Actually-” his hand landed on the heavy door “-He wanted you” Tamlin melted into his beast form once again, leaving you to think through the words, your eyes looking down to the scars the last Lord of Night had left you. 

—--------------------------

You winnowed to a high mountain top you hadn’t graced in some time, your eyes looking upon your formerly beloved home of Velaris, the word home like acid in your throat. You looked towards the Town House, the once monument to your love, a mausoleum to it now. You sighed aloud before turning towards the House of Wind, something calling out to you through the night air, an idea growing in you. the sound of your feet hitting the stone gently filled the library. The dark shrouded you with unnatural warmth as you called quietly into the hollow pit for an old friend of yours. 

“Little mirror, you have returned” “Bry, don’t be coy with me” You could hear the creature of nightmares smile through the shadows.

“What do I owe this long overdue visit my little mirror?” You could feel its energy swirling around you but keeping enough distance so as not to risk you mirroring it. 

“Hybern is planning to attack and I wish to know what side of the aisle you find your wonderful self on” You had thought of your old friend as the perfect addition to a team you had no plan on being directly involved with.

“They have not yet asked my little mirror” The chill of its voice met your skin with a flush of contrasting warmth, inspecting you for any trace of harm.

“When they do, bargain for something of little matter to you that they can’t refuse and then once you have completed your task, go free” “Indeed-” he hummed at your self-assured tone “-why bother trying to help them little mirror?” “Let's say it’s out of habit” you laughed lightly, the wisps of dark air feeling as though a grin could be felt in them. You looked up to the mouth of the pit above you, the faint outlines of bookshelves shrouded in darkness haunting above.

“Ask for a window Bry, you deserve to see the world you will once again grace” Energy graced over your hand in thanks so easy for you to capture and yet it had no value to you T when compared to the sentiment of what you had at your finger tips. The sound of footsteps up above had you jolting slightly, retreating further into the dark so as not to be seen. 

“Be safe friend” You whispered softly before winnowing out of the depths. 

—-----------------------------------------

Shadows sank into the cobblestone as you manifested on the singing streets, your feet felt light along the heavy rock, practically levitating towards your old haunt. You stood at the gate of the Town House, the shadows of the residence dancing across the candlelight in the window, happy fae dancing in the streets as if not in the presence of the creature they turned you into. 

The Town House was decorated to within an inch of its life, banners and streamers flowing freely from every corner as music sang through the house to the garden where the majority of the party was revelling in the moonlight. You followed the radiate path to the garden you’d spent years cultivating, willingly ignoring the changes to decor made by the new Lady of Night. 

You watched the Inner Circle at the bottom of the garden, your former family rejoiced in celebration of the birthday of a fae you only knew through stories of the Hybern War. Nesta glowed in the moonlight. You looked among the now expanded Inner Circle, Azriel noticeably missing as you took another step down the path, Cassian swirled Nesta around, you smiled genuinely at the sight, so happy to see him happy. The smile faded as Rhysand did the same to Feyre before they walked hand in hand to the other side of the garden, your once favourite spot, the perfect view of the Sidra. 

You found your feet taking you in their direction, slightly secluded from the rest of the Inner Circle. The sound of your steps on the soft grass made a silent sound that sent shivers down Rhysand’s spine as he turned to see you standing on top of the slope, staring down at them. 

The music seemingly stopped dead, your appearance at the party stopping the revelry like a record scratch as you spoke-

“Doesn’t look much like a war is nigh right now, now does it?” You clasped your hands in front of you, eyes burning into the former love of your life. 

“YN-I-” “This is YN?” Feyre stepped from behind her mate, her beauty illuminating the path up to you and you hated her for it, you looked around at the world you believed she stole from you but realised as quickly it was Rhysand who had committed the theft.  Feyre moved to close the distance between you both, stepping from her mate's grasp to practically square off to you. You could feel the power radiating from her, so tempting to take but would replace the last scrap of Azriel you had access to. Still, you enjoyed the thought of rattling Rhysand.

“Ah, Feyre, Rhysand’s lovely High Lady of Night, I don’t think we’ve had the displeasure of formally meeting” You outstretched a hand, she instinctively went to take hold of it, and Rhysand immediately pulled her back.

“Don’t let her touch you!” He ordered, some fae looking in your direction at the disturbance to their antics. “Who’s afraid of little old me?” You laughed again, it reverberating off Feyre’s chest

“Don’t go near her” “Where is this hostility coming from Rhysand, I seem to remember it was you who made the first act of aggression” You lifted the small cuff of your sleeve, the hint of a small arrow-shaped scar still marking you centuries later. 

“Leave YN” “You sought me out, I’m returning the visit” Feyre’s head darted towards her mates at the revelation.

“Oh? He didn’t tell you? My my always one for secrets Rhysand” you tsked, circling them as Rhysand’s father once had done to you, a hunter and her prey. 

“YN, I’m am celebrating with my family, if you could extend some courtesy and-” “Courtesy!?-” You scoffed loudly “-You crossed out the good years with me, cursed me the moment I treated you with the same respect you’d given me for years, banished me to the same solitude you used me to escape from! So you don’t deserve courtesy! And now, even when you are mated to pure power, I can tell you wish I stayed, you curse my name wishing I stayed! Your favourite fucking weapon!” Years of repressed anger flooded from you to the space between you and the mates, Rhysands face greying as he clutched onto Feyre’s hand like you may steal her away forever. 

“I-I didn’t do anything to you YN, I just fell into this world, this was hard on everyone” Feyre rattled out, your heated gaze landing on one of the most powerful fae to grace Prythian. You took a deep breath in before speaking again-

“Oh boo freaking hoo-” "You found yourself laughing coldly “-Figure out the Hybern thing by yourselves, I’ve already had enough” You span on the ball of your foot, striding up the very path you had designed to get the best view of the garden. 

“And those new curtains look horrific!” You called back over your shoulder to the mates before reentering the house you wished to burn to the ground with your vitriol. 

-

You returned to the now suffocating air of the Velaris streets, feet bouncing off the cobble as you walked down the hill, your muscle memory bringing you down the way to one of your favourite spots in the city. The moment your mottled shaking hands met the cooling brick of the Sidra’s boundary wall, the tsunami of tears you fought every day since leaving flooded your atmosphere. 

“YN?” Azriel crossed the same bridge you said goodbye to him on those years before, the paper bags containing Mor’s favourite alcohol smashed to the stone floor. The stream of oak-coloured liquid flowed to your shoes. Shadows darted around you like dogs flocking to their owner after a long time apart. You laughed at the feeling of them swirling around you, lightly nipping at your face in their own form of pecks to the cheeks, banishing tears. You managed to open your eyes between their displays of affection to find Azriel standing with pure shock on his face, arms hanging by his sides and wings dipping to match. 

“Am I hallucinating?” “No Az-” You smiled wide through tear-stained cheeks “-I came back to take another strip off of your dear brother” You watched him pinch his arm to ensure he was truly awake. Azriel then flew at you in a similar fashion to his shadows, wrapping his arms around you to practically crack your bones. 

“Az-You’re-suffocating-me” You managed, laughing again once he gave enough of a release to allow your lungs to expand. 

“Why is it every time I find you on this bridge you’re crying?” He wiped a thumb across a stray tear, your crooked hands holding his to your face before they could move back away. 

“I love the drama” you laughed through fresh tears.

“Why are you back YNN?”

“Well, Rhysand came to visit me in Spring Court-” an almost growl left Azriel in response “-and he’s in need of his favourite weapon again” A definite growl left him this time, his hands dropping away from you as he turned to look back up the direction of the Town House.

“I told him to leave you alone, I didn’t track you down for you to be used as-” “You what?” He turned back to your slightly tilting head.

“Well…you went radio silent on me, I had to make sure you were okay-” a shadow clipped his ear somewhat sharply “-We, we had to make sure you were okay. You left us” The last three words tinged with undeniable heartbreak, heartbreak you had felt yourself. “Az, I had to leave”

“But you didn’t have to leave without me” an element of anger leached from him.

“Az” “No, you left! Rhysand might have broken your heart but you obliterated mine! Chipped away at it over centuries” A sharpness never reserved for you cut into your skin with similar pain to what Rhysand’s father had dealt you. 

“Azriel I’m sorr-” “-It broke me every time you chose him and all he did was tolerate you! Tolerate the love I so desperately wanted! And now I watch as he gives Feyre even a fraction of everything you deserved and I hate that I didn’t fight harder for you! I hate it! Hate how he  weaponised and ruined the love of my life!” His raised tone bounced off the flowing waters of the Sidra, the sound of his century's worth of repressed resentment tumbling out of him like the small waves hitting the boundary wall. 

“YOU SAID YOU WANTED ME TO BE HAPPY EVEN IF IT MEANT RUNNING AWAY FROM ALL THIS!” “BUT I THOUGHT YOU’D TAKE ME WITH YOU”

“I SHOULD HAVE! I FUCKING SHOULD HAVE!" You roared back, an onyx shadow of your own making curling around your vibrating fists, Azriel’s eyes shot towards them, his hand taking a gentle firm hold on your wrist before you could bolt out of his life again.

“You’re still mirroring me” he whispered so softly you thought you imagined it.

“Yeah… it was all I had left connecting me to you, to my home, to someone who would always do more than just tolerate my love” You returned the words with equal tenderness, eyes fixating on your shadows swirling into his, your eyes illuminating like they hadn’t since first landing on Azriel’s. His hand slipped from your wrist to your hand, chasms and fissures of equal cruelty knitting into one another so the skin may feel whole again.

“YN! You don’t get to leave like that!” Your heads moved in unison to look up towards an enraged Rhysand, you released Azriel’s hand on sight.

“You don’t control where I do and don’t go anymore Rhys” you chewed back.

“I am regretful for what happened and how it happened but don’t let the little incident that happened between us stop you from defending your people!”

“Little incident?” Your chilled laugh returned, a shiver running down Azriel at the sound. 

“YN, be sensible here” Rhysand has his arms out as though trying to corral an animal as he steps towards you, Azriel instinctively standing between the two of you. 

“YNN is entitled to spend the rest of her life how she wants to, she owes us nothing” His hardened stare cut through his brother, shadows swirling around his feet.

“Az, we need her power to-” “-We need her to be happy, Rhysand. That’s what we always should have needed of her, we owe her everything. You took no issue in me destroying those who destroyed me, she should be given that option, even now” Azriel spoke with clear conviction, the words causing Rhysand to purse his lips in thought. 

“If she doesn’t join then she will succeed in destroying us by not helping us” He looked around Azriel to you, your thoughts racing at the words. You stepped back from the two brothers, your shoes crushing the glass of the smashed bottles. 

“Follow your own past decisions Rhys and don’t follow me” You dissolved in front of the two as they began to argue once again. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------

That day you watched Tamlin ready what little forces he had, the thought of your former family defending your homeland without your intervention ultimately being your deciding factor to join. That and the thought of giving Rhysand any semblance of moral high ground. 

You transversed the battlefield in a shielded shadow, blasting the enemy as you flew alongside the Illyrian-winged warriors. A blood-curdling call of a female you didn’t know drew your attention downward as Cassian flew down past you towards her, too fueled with adrenaline to notice you follow closely as sudden strikes of pure cauldron power shot down and destroyed the warriors you had just flown alongside. You landed on the battlefield with such force it split the soil, Cassian’s head turning towards you rapidly locking eyes on you as you both found yourselves smiling at one another. 

“YN, you came!” “I miss you Cass, stay alive” You called back before bolting back into the now-cleared skies as more and more warriors rose to replace the fallen. From above, you covered Feyre unbeknownst to her, the collective goal having more importance in this moment. You watch as she reaches the cauldron with Amren allowing you to double back and continue your onslaught. Rhysand’s true beast form rises from the ground and you feel a bolt of fear at the pure sight of him. You swoop down to meet his side as he tears into the enemy, Helion dashing to join his side as he reforms himself into his beastly counterpart. 

“YN!!!” Rhysand roars down to you as you sprint around him, you leap on top of a razor-sharp talon as he shoots towards the sky, your knotty hand pressing into the scales of the High Lord. The feeling of familiar pure unadulterated power coursed through your veins, never did you think you’d mirror the High Lord again, the traces of betrayal tinging the power as it blasted from your outstretched hands to mist a sizable amount of enemy forces. Bryaxis coursed around you, shielding you from any retaliation as Rhysand and Helion unleashed on the battlefield. 

“I have to get to Feyre!” You hear Rhysand screech out as you cover him along his way towards his mate, the shift in the air undeniable as Amren is released from her bindings. You defend the space the cauldron occupies, allowing Rhysand to rush to Feyre’s side. Something cracks deep in you as you hear the High Lady of Night shriek in pure pain, fearing Rhysand has taken his final breath. You winnow to Tamlin as he sinks tendrils of power into some stragglers of the Hybern arm. 

“Tam! With me!” He has no hesitation in taking your hand, you winnow with him to where the cauldron claimed its price, Feyre begging for help from the High Lords. A chill shoots up your spine, rattling your bones. Your face hardened before you reached for Helion’s hand, mirroring his energy before you sank back into the shadows, following your own thread to land alongside Azriel, his wings in tatters as you dropped to his side. 

“YNN” he writhed out in pain, your arms encapsulating him, you feel Helion's power course through you as you attempt to heal him back to whole, your own body crying out in pain from the events of the war.

“It’s okay Azriel I’m here, I’m here” Your tears fell into his hair as you clung his head to your chest, his own heartbeat struggling to match yours. The light flowed across your disjointed digits, stitching the centuries-old wounds together as it poured into Azriel.

“I wish I didn’t let you leave that night YN” “I wish I didn’t leave you that night” You cried out, gently rocking him back and forth, his hand landing on your forearm to hold you closer. 

“I wish to carry a piece of you with me forever YNN”

“You can have all of me Azriel” You stretched down to meet his lips before he used what little energy he had to lean in, fully surrendering to every dream he dreamt of you from the moment you pulled the knife from his wing centuries ago. The glow that radiated from your energy returned and Azriel once again wished to bask in it for the rest of his days. His torn flesh stitched together as the healing energy flowed between the two of you. The feeling of home you never thought you’d have again blazed through every cell until it was just you, Azriel and shadows of onyx mirroring one another's endless hope for the future. 

-------------------------------------

Whatcha think?

Tag: @saltedcoffeescotch @popcornlauncher @notepaper @panther-girl-124 @mirandasidefics @slightlyjaded @moonlwghts @tsunami-of-tears

[feyreswaterybowels]

⟡ Princess of Dreams ⟡

# 1 Lucien x Rhys!Sister

⟡Part 1⟡Part 2⟡Part 3⟡

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Centuries ago Rhys’ youngest sister was kidnapped by the High Lord of Spring instead of kill like their mother and sister. The high lord had wards placed on his court so she was unable to leave. Rhys has believed her to be dead this whole time. What happens when Feyre finds out who she is and swears to take her home.

Warnings/Tag: Takes place during ACOWAR. Implied past sexual assault. Fluffy romance. Feyre being besties with Rhy’s sister. Pet names (pretty girl, sweet girl, Princess (her title)

Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for part 2! Bold italics are mental communication regular italics are inner thoughts.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁✩ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

I know who you are.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Feyre—

You’re Rhys' sister. He told me all about you while I was there. I…I have a plan. I’ll take you back with me when I go. I’ll take you home.

The hushed conversation with Feyre played on repeat in my head for days. She had trusted me enough to tell me she wasn’t really here for Tamlin, that it was a plot, a plan and she was going back to the Night Court. Back to Velaris and she was taking me with her—she was taking me home.

Home.

There was only one problem. Just one. The male lying in my bed. I turn away from the window to gaze at him lying there naked, golden skin glowing in the moonlight. A crown of red splayed around his head. Grooves and planes of lean muscles on display. Arms folded behind his head.

Gods, he’s beautiful.

I had yet to tell him of Feyre’s plan. I believed he wouldn’t tell Tamlin but at the same time…I wasn’t sure how safe his mind was with two other daemanti in the house. I could only protect his mind when I was with him. Plus, Tamlin was his best friend. His High Lord. If he knew of Feyre’s plan to leave…and everything else she told me and Tamlin found out, we could both be locked away again. Not only that, but if he found out Lucien knew? That couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let harm come to either of them.

I took in a deep breath, walking over to the bed, tucking my wings as I slowly crawled up that perfect body. Dipping my head and trailing my lips over that patch of hair that went down, down, down, breathing in the scent of him. Mm.

“And what exactly are you doing?” That deep voice rumbled. I looked up, a sly grin across his face, metal eye glowing in the dark as he took in the sight of me between high thighs as I licked my bottom lip.

“Who? Me?” I asked, sliding a hand up his thigh to grasp him in my hand, stroking him once.

“Yes you, Princess” He laughs, grabbing and pulling me up the bed, kissing me as he rolls us over. I can feel him hard and heavy between my legs and it makes me moan.

“Lucien,” His name falls from my lips as he presses our bodies together. “Don’t tease, I want you.”

“Don’t tease?” He scoffs, “Says the one who was about to wake me up with a pretty little mouth.”

His grin is feral and I can’t help but return it.

“Come on,” I spread my legs wider, letting him feel the wetness there, “I know you want it.”

“And she calls me the tease,” He mocks under his breath before kissing me, tongue sliding into my mouth.

My fingers tangle in those long fire locks. I moan when I feel the heat radiating from his body, I love when he does that. The heat always feels so good against my sensitive skin.

He grins at me again, pushing up onto his knees, towering over me. He grabs my thighs, spreading them out and looking over me and I let him. I always loved the way he looks at me, his beautiful scarred face showing every ounce of emotion he feels.

He reaches between his thigh, wrapping a strong fist around himself and I watch stroke for stroke as he watches me. I tug on that bond between us, watching as it seemingly tugs him closer though I know it was his own doing.

“So, beautiful, all laid out for me,” He groans and I open myself further for him. Stretching my wings out across the bed, arms above my head, legs still spread wide but using a foot to rub over his calf.

That does it for him. He swoops down, grabbing me around the waist to yank my hips up, lining himself up and filling me. I cry out his name, arching into that fullness, into that glorious stretch.

We move together heat and passion. It’s rough and loving and he’s got me falling over the edge in minutes. Then again. And again. He’d always been so good at getting me there. Doing everything to make sure I was pleasured properly.

Tonight was no different as he leans over me, slow, firm thrusts hitting exactly where I needed it as he mouthed at my wing, tongue tracing through the grooves, and one hand wrapped around my wrists above my head to hold me in place.

“Say my name, pretty girl” he says, heated kisses on my wing.

“Lucien,”

“Louder,” he growls.

“Lucien!”

“I want the whole house to hear you, sweet girl.” His tongue laves over a particularly sensitive spot and I’m gone again. Gushing over him and moaning his name loud enough that the whole house definitely heard it.

It’s not long after that his thrusts are slowing. He lets go of my hands so I can touch him, he always liked having my touch when he came. I grinned into our kiss as my hands ran over his body. His panting moans turning into grunted growls. He was so sexy like this. Covering me fully, hair falling around his face, teeth bared.

I reached up pushing his hair behind those pointed ears, thumb tracing over part of his scar before pulling him into a kiss that was more tongue than anything.

“Fuck, just like that, baby,” I moaned into his mouth. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Make me feel so good!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum in that pussy for you, pretty girl, then I'm gonna eat it out.”

That’s what did it for me, I tightened around him. He follows me over the edge a few thrust later with a growl of my name.

Then he’s slipping from my body and sliding down, kissing a trail to my centre, keeping true to his promise.

“Fuck,” He groaned, coming back up, sliding his tongue into my mouth to let me taste myself. Kissing me slow and sloppy. “So perfect. My pretty, perfect mate.”

Despite what we’d just done I blush at his words.

“My sweet handsome mate,” I whisper back, tumbing at the bottom of his scar again before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He holds me tight, arms wrapping around me as we catch our breath. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck breathing in his scent—organic, earthy and sweet. Perfect.

My eyes welled up when thoughts of leaving weave through my brain. This was my mate, I had built a life here with him. But I had been trapped in this house for so long that it wasn’t really life. I wanted to go home to Velaris. To my brother and our family. I could try to convince Lucien to go but that could put him in danger. I had almost lost him under the mountain, I could t go through that again. If I left first I could always seek him out later but to stay here when I had the opportunity to finally go home, when I had Feyre telling me she could break the wards binding me here. I couldn’t turn that down.

“My love, what’s wrong?” Lucien asks, pulling back to look at me. Our eyes meet as he wipes away my tears. “Talk to me.”

I sniffled. I felt like it was now or never. I either told him now or he would find out when I leave. I couldn’t do that to him though. It would break his heart to wake up one day and find me gone.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” He said, petting my hair.

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud,” I tell him, our eyes meeting.

“That’s okay, Princess” Lucien nods his head, concern written all over his face.

“You can’t tell Tamlin,” The crease between his brow deepens. “You can’t tell him, Lucien, please. Promise me.”

He watches me for a moment, confused and concerned but he nods. “I promise. I won’t tell him.”

“Feyre and Rhys’ bond wasn’t actually broken that day with Hybern. She’s has a plan to go back. She…she said she can break the wards that hold me here so I can— I can finally go home,” I tell him, his eyes widen but he doesn’t look entirely shocked at what I’ve told him.

“And I’m assuming you have the intention of going with her?” He asks, sadness tinged the words and the bond.

“I have to, Lucien. I haven’t seen Rhys in centuries. Centuries. And he thought I was dead the entire time until recently. I need to go home, I need to see him and the rest of our family,” I cried, hot tears sliding down my face. He grabs me, pulling me up and holding me. Stroking my hair and shushing me softly.

“You should go, Princess. You should go home,” He says, kissing my head. I pull back to look at him, searching his face.

“Come with me,” I whisper, grabbing his face. “You can come. You would love Velaris—”

“I can’t,” he cuts me of gently, stroking his knuckles down my cheek. “Not that I don’t want to. Fuck, it hurts just thinking about you being away from me but if the three of us disappear? Tamlin will flip shit.”

“And he won’t be able to get to us in Velaris,” I tell him, grabbing the hand caressing my cheek and holding it tightly. “We would be safe there, Lucien. We could have a life together, a real one. Our own place by the river I showed you. A proper mating ceremony. We’ve been talking about kids for a decade. We could happily and safely have them there.”

“I don’t know…” Lucien shakes his head and I can see the water lining his eye.

“Me and you, Lu. That’s what we always said. Me and you—”

“Always.” Lucien nodded, looking over my face. Taking in every detail like he was trying to remember what I looked like before I was even gone. “What if you go with Feyre and I come later? You have to go now, you’re right you can’t pass up this opportunity to go home. I understand that. But you can come back for me, right? I could help keep Tamlin away…for some time anyway.”

My tears break loose then as I sob against his neck.

“I know it’s the best option but I don’t want to leave you,” I cried, clinging to him as he pulled me into his lap, letting my wings cocoon around us.

“Sh, it’s gonna be okay, my love.” I feel his tears on my neck and my heart breaks.

It was right but it felt so wrong.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“So you’re joining us after all?” comes Tamlins snarky comment as soon as I walk out of the manor. I roll my eyes, fluffing the ugly powder blue dress.

“Unfortunately,” I rolled my eyes at him, it was too early for his shit, but still smiled at Lucien when his arm wrapped around my waist, careful of my wings.

“You can stay here,” Tamlin retorted with an eye roll of his own. “That would be preferable.”

“Well my mate asked me to attend. As did my friend, even if you wish Feyre wasn’t my friend,” I sneered at him with a wicked grin.

“I would never say that,” Tamlin returned the sneer, baring his teeth at me.

“Play nice, Princess,” Lucien purrs through the bond.

“Not out loud anyway,” I gave a sweet smile. “You look beautiful,” I said, hugging Feyre and kissing her cheek before pulling Lucien away to our horses.

Lucien helped me onto my horse, a gorgeous black mare, her coat shining even in the darkness of morning—a gift from Lucien after I accepted the mating bond. I looked down at him with a smile, running my hand through his hair.

“You’re lucky I love you, I really don’t want to deal with Ianthe’s shit today,” I said, situating myself in the saddle.

“Ianthe’s shit is exactly why I asked you to come,” Lucien said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it. “I appreciate you coming anyway, your presence will make it much more tolerable for me.”

“Yeah, I know, come on, let's get this over with,” I said, urging him to his own horse. “I’m ready to get today over with so I can get drunk and dance with you under the stars.”

Ugh, he looks so good. I thought as his head dropped back with a laugh before mounting his horse, dressed in autumn colors he stood out perfectly from everyone else wearing the hideously bright spring court colors. I’d be covered head to toe in Night Court black if it was allowed. I’d have loved to see the look on Ianthe’s face if I had shown up today in all black.

We set off soon after everyone had mounted their horses and there were already hundreds of fae crowded atop the hill when we arrived. I fought the urge to bare my teeth when I saw Ianthe’s gaze lingering on my mate as he dismounted his horse and strided to mine.

“Ignore it. She’s not worth your jealousy,” Lucien said as he reached for my hand, helping me from the saddle.

“I’m not jealous. I’m protective. I don’t like the way she looks at you,” I say, running my hands over the collar of his jacket. “Like she’ll drag you away to have her way with you whether you like it or not.”

“That’ll never happen, my love.”

“Damn right it won’t, I’d break her hands if she ever touches you,” I huff, as a feline smile crosses his lips.

“You’re sexy when you’re possessive,” He said, leaning down to kiss me, first my lips then my forehead before extending his arm to me to hold onto.

“You better make this up to me later,” I grumble, as I would much rather be back at the estate hiding in my room.

“Oh, I will make it up to you, sweet girl,” Lucien promised, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “slowly, with my tongue. Over and over.”

My body flushed knowing exactly how good he is with that wicked tongue. His gaze turns heated knowing exactly what I was thinking, feeling exactly what I was feeling.

“Lucien,” Tamlin calls from where he and Feyre are standing. I glance at those full lips one last time before he’s gently pulling me, guiding me away from our partially secluded spot. .

Jurian is at my other side suddenly walking with us as we trail behind Tamlin and Feyre—also linked by the arms and the Hybern Royals. I had seen the gleam in Feyre’s eye before she turned away, like a wolf getting ready to play with its prey. It made me giddy inside.

I couldn’t wait to witness her revenge.

We stopped walking when Tamlin and Feyre did, reaching Ianthe at her stupid altar as she offered them a singular nod of head. The Hybern twins shifted impatiently, Brannagh had made comments the night before how they didn’t bother with such things in Hybern—practically implying that soon we wouldn’t be bothering with it either. Smug little bitch.

“A blessed solstice to us all,” Ianthe called out to everyone around and I don’t roll my eyes the way I want to.

I stood there through an endless string of prayers and rituals, acolytes pouring sacred wine and the blessing of harvest goods. A lovely, rehearsed little number. Lucien was practically falling asleep between Feyre and I.

Ianthe lifted her wine and intoned “As the light is strongest today, let it drive out unwanted darkness. Let it banish the black stain of evil.” I sneered at her, I knew those words were directed at me. My brother. Feyre. Our home.

“She’s lucky my wine doesn’t end up in her pretty face,” I silently told Feyre, watching her expertly hide her grin with the wine chalice—her silent agreement.

“Would Princess Brannagh and Prince Dagdan do us the honor of imbibing this blessed wine?”

I shared a look with Feyre as the twins frowned at one another—the crowd murmuring behind us. But Feyre stepped aside, smiling a pretty smile and gesturing to the alter for the royals.

“Drink and let our new allies become friends,” Ianthe declared before they could refuse. “Drink and wash away the endless night of the year.”

The two daemanti surveyed their cups, most likely searching for any hint of poison. Feyre kept that smile on her face, I couldn’t extend that same faux courtesy when the prince looked my way. I didn’t care enough to put on the facade.

They each barely sipped the wine before trying to step away from the altar. Ianthe cooed at them like children, insisting they stay at the altar with her, to experience the ceremony at her side.

“I’m bored, Luc,” I grumbled to Lucien through the bond as Ianthe continued on with her praises and rituals. Eyes finding Lucien every now and then, looking away when I send her a death glare—lucky she doesn’t know who I really am.

“I’ll be over soon,” Lucien chuckles, pulling me into his side with an arm around my waist.

Finally, Tamlin was summoned over to light the candle for the souls lost this past year. This part bored me too. Those souls were gone; they didn’t need a candle lit to bring them back to the light. But just as I was starting to lose my patients the sky was finally filling with streaks of pink as Jurian was called forward to recite a prayer as well.

It left only Lucien and I standing with Feyre in the circle of grass, the altar and horizon in front of us and the crowd behind us. The look on Lucien’s face drew my attention as he scanned the area and I could help the crack of a smile when I noticed something out of place. A miniscule little detail no one else seemed to notice—except maybe now my mate.

I watched as Ianthe stepped toward the hill’s edge, her golden hair tumbling freely down her back as she lifted her arms to the sky. The chosen spot was intentional. Only that marker that told her where to stand wasn’t in the spot it had been in when we first arrived.

Golden rays of sunlight finally broke over the horizon. Light filled the world clear and strong. The murmurs started through the crowd. Cries of a name, not Ianthe’s but Feyre’s.

That gorgeous light had not filled and surrounded Ianthe but Feyre.

Ianthe seemed to be the last to notice, to see the sun was not blessing her but Feyre.

She glowed so brightly, brighter than what seemed natural for this occasion but I didn’t care to question why. She was beautiful—shining as if she were the star that hung above Ramiel.

“Curse breaker,” some murmured.

“Blessed,” others whispered.

Feyre's face was one of surprise and acceptance, though I knew it wasn’t genuine, those around us wouldn’t read it that way. They would only see what she allowed them too. The shock and bafflement of Tamlin and the Hybern twin’s faces was ever satisfying.

But Feyre didn’t look at them. She turned to Lucien and I, her light radiating so bright it was almost hard to keep that eye contact. A friend looking to another for help. She reached a hand to Lucien then to me.

I knew Ianthe had to be losing her shit behind us but I was too enchanted by my brother's mate. Yes, this was all a show, but Feyre was special.

I took her hand, watching Lucien do the same. Then we shared a look, lowering down to one knee, pressing her knuckles to our brow. I knew the crowd behind us had followed suit.

I had never kneeled for a high lord of the Spring Court. I was Princess of the Night Court. Heir of Velaris. Princess of Dreams. I knelt for no one—certainly not for anyone of the Spring Court. Not now, not ever.

I was not kneeling before Lady Feyre. Or Feyre Cursebreaker. I was kneeling for Feyre High Lady of the Night Court. Feyre that led Prythian from tyranny and darkness. Feyre that saved my mate and thousands of others under the mountain.

“My high lady,” I declared to her. The only person besides my brother I’d ever sworn fealty to.

I looked up at Feyre, our eyes meeting before she looked to Ianthe, smiling a sweet smile, one that transformed to show a bit of that wolf hiding beneath.

[extremely-judgemental]

Can we talk about Tamlin again? His story is infinitely sad.

During his younger years, he hides his true nature for the fear of his father and brothers. He has no interest in being a High Lord and is completely satisfied working with his brothers-in-arms and protecting his court. Ultimately his powers come through and he's hated by his brothers. He obeys every command from his father so that he isn't assumed to be a rebel and ends up betraying his mentor. Since then he lives in fear of Rhysand and resists him little whenever insulted because of his guilt.

With his father's murder he becomes the one thing he didn't want to be. He has to leave the life he loved to become someone his people need. Despite the lack of proper training with the court matters, he accepts the one job he always hated.

He offers home to Lucien making an enemy out of Autumn, his neighbouring court which no one would do for a complete stranger who isn't much of a benefit to his court in any way. Lucien becomes his only friend, confidant and family.

I think no one talks about this part as much as they should. When Amarantha establishes her rule, he's the only High Lord allowed to walk out freely. She gives him fifty years to break the curse. Not only is his court condemned all the same, he can't blame failing to save Prythian on his imprisonment like the other HLs could. Knowing Tamlin is warrior at heart, it's heartbreaking that he has to willingly send his 'brothers' to their death. What isn't addressed (enough or at all) is the resentment others UtM or in Prythian develop towards him for not undoing the curse already or trying enough when he stopped sending his sentries out to die. Every time Amarantha does anything remotely cruel, Tamlin would be blamed too for turning his back on entire fae population. Somehow this is glossed over as if fifty years of captivity wouldn't affect the way others see Tamlin.

He finally finds someone who loves him and could potentially break the curse. He ensures her family is taken care of when he didn't have to, long before they fall in love with each other. But he sends her away for her safety damning himself to more blame and hatred. He accepts his fate as Amarantha's toy when the woman he loves returns only to be treated like a circus animal and tortured and abused. He watches as the entirety of fae population bets against her life, watch Feyre almost get killed twice and truly killed once.

Once they are free, he has to build his court back up and also protect Feyre and his people. Even after all those years, he doesn't trust himself qualified to be a HL and takes advice from anyone including Ianthe who manipulates and betrays him, who he believed to be his friend.

We know how it goes from here. Feyre leaves with the one who abused her UtM. Rhysand gloats whenever he can. Tamlin makes a deal with someone crueler than Amarantha. He believes Feyre finally is safe from Rhysand only to realise she's played him. He loses Lucien. He loses the trust of the very people he cared about so much. He cares about the realm enough to spy for the other courts though no one believes him or even likes him. He helps Feyre and her sister. He helps bring the one man he hates so much back to life for her sake. Even after everything his court still suffers from what Feyre and the war did. For a soldier to watch his land wither away, it must be one of the worst nightmares.

There's one scene that always gets me. The one in ACOMAF where Tamlin is with his sentries, talking and laughing with his people during some gathering. That was supposed to be his life, he almost had it if he had the chance to heal. But all of it was stripped away because he loved Feyre and tried over and over again to protect her, blindly sacrificing everything for her. Then I remember Tamlin in his manor, empty and in ruins, with no one around.

To come to think of it, he has received hate almost all his life. Sometimes, rightfully so. But mostly for none of his fault. Maybe he deserves a break after all.

[readychilledwine]

Okay, I have a request for you that is no pressure, but Reader enjoys praise loves when she is being acknowledged for doing good and being good but doesn't know how to accept but their lover(and I have no idea would best fit this. My heart says Cassian, but realistically, it's probably Az or Eris) talks them through it shows them they don't need to be flustered.

Please ignore if this makes no sense

Self Worth

Summary - Cassian can't stand seeing you so low

Warnings - insecure reader, praise, mentions of mental health slipping

A/N - just a little baby fic of how Cassian would handle his mate needing her self-esteem and self worth built up 💕

✨️Cassian Masterlist✨️General Masterlist✨️

"Look me in my eyes and tell me the female I love isn't good enough again," Cassian was being as gentle as he could. You were shying away from him, eager for his praise, but instantly falling into that shell the second he gave it. "Look me in my eyes and tell me why the female I love cannot look at me after I tell her how beautiful she is today."

"I-" The words died on your tongue. No excuse you could find would appease him. No excuse would make him forgive you for whispering to him that you weren't enough. Weren't brave enough, pretty enough, strong enough. You saw the way he admired Nesta and Feyre. The way he admired Mor.

You didn't see the way he looked at you, though. He looked at you as if you had made the very world, as if you had forged him to be exactly how you needed him to be. You pushed him yo be that male, pushed him to be better. To be good. You made Cassian see the beauty in the world, the beauty in others. Perhaps that is why it hurt him that you could not see the beauty in you.

"I just never feel like I'm doing enough. Like there's no way you want me, want my body, want me to be-"

"Stop," he interrupted you immediately. He hid the break in his voice so well, hid how just a few words instantly shattered his heart. "You're struggling again, aren't you angel?" His eyes studied you hard as you nodded silently. "Y/n, you've been working so hard for Rhys, being the perfect emissary. You single handedly started the process of him and Tamlin creating a trade route, of him and Dawn beginning a joint training program between the Peregryn and Illyrians. Angel, you are doing so well and working so hard."

Your chest started to feel heavy, breathing becoming rapid, and Cassian instantly put his hands on your upper arms. He began to exaggerate his breathing, forcing you to follow it and calm down. "You are beautiful, you are special, you are kind. You are my mate, Y/n. You will never have to worry about competition or me not loving a single inch of you. I am proud to be yours. Proud you wanted me."

You looked up at Cassian, eyes lined in tears, "Really? You don't wish I was a.. a fighter?"

He laughed softly, "If you could fight, why would you need me? My job is to protect you. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even if that means protecting you from yourself." He leaned in and kissed your forehead. "You are beautiful. Say it for me."

"I-" You paused, taking a deep breath. "I am beautiful."

Cassian's smile grew, "Good job, angel. Tell me five things you love about you."

You bit your lip thinking, "My eyes," he groaned in pleasure at that answer. "My humor," he whispered yes softly. "My butt-"

"Fuck yes your ass," Cassian turned you quickly to smack it before turning you around. "Continue."

You giggled at him, "My kindness," he shut his eyes smiling. "And... I think.."

"No. Not think. You know you love this last thing. Tell me again," he demanded.

You nodded more confidently, "I love my smile." Cassian held your face in his hands again. "Because when I smile, you smile, then I smile more."

"Seeing you glowing and happy makes me happy," he said. "Every day we do 5 things you love about you, then I'm going to spend the day praising them until that self Worth gets back up again, okay angel?"

"Okay, Cassie."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites

[riddlesb1tch]

Scarred Stars

Cassian x reader

summary: reader asks Cassian about how he got the scar on his brow.

warnings: mentions of war and fighting.

a/n: creds to @throneofsmut for the title!!!!!

You sat on Cassian’s lap, doing the nighttime skincare routine you had forced on him. You shuddered thinking about how he lived before he'd met you. This male did not know the difference between hand wash and face wash and would use literally whatever to wash his face. 

“As long as it's soap, it’s fine,” he’d say. 

One day you asked him, “Cassie you know laundry detergent is soap, right? Would you use that?” 

Thank the mother he shook his head because you had fully expected him to say it got the job done. Weirdly enough, even after washing his face with hand soap for the longest time, his skin remained a beautiful bronze with barely any blemishes. However, you knew he would not appreciate it if he ever did break out. 

When he got a pimple once, he refused to show you his face properly, saying he didn’t want you to see him like that. After that incident, you’d devised a skincare routine for Cassian that took care of his skin enough to prevent breakouts but wasn’t so long that he would be too tired or lazy to do it. One time, however, he was simply exhausted after a long day and was ready to go to bed without even washing his face. So you had offered to do his skincare for him. It was one of the most domestic and intimate moments of your relationship and since then, it has become both of your favourite part of your nighttime routine. 

Currently, you were sitting on Cassian’s lap having just done his skincare when you’d asked if you could pluck his eyebrows a little because a couple of stray hairs were bothering you. He’d said no initially but as soon as you settled comfortably on his lap with the tweezers, he seemed on board immediately. 

“Stop moving, Cassie,” you mumbled, resting one hand on his cheek while tweezing out stray brow hairs with the other. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled back. You could feel his gaze on your face and your cheeks heated up. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, making eye contact with the most adoring look you’d ever seen on his face. 

His hands moved up and down your sides as he blurted, “I love you.” 

You blushed, a big smile taking over your features. “I love you more,” you replied, gently holding his face between your hands and kissing his lips softly. You smiled and rested your forehead on his after pulling away and Cassian breathed deeply, holding you even closer. After a few seconds of silence, you placed a lingering kiss on his forehead before resuming plucking his brows. 

When you got to the left eyebrow, you delicately stroked the scar running down from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. Cassian closed his eyes in the comfort of having you touch him. 

“You’ve never told me how you got this,” you mumbled.  

He opened his eyes, looking up at you with saddened eyes. 

“It's not really a happy story,” he replied. 

Your brows furrowed in curiosity. “What happened?” you asked, arms looping around his neck. 

“Well, you know about the conflict that happened between Rhysand’s and Tamlin’s families, right?” he said. You nodded. “It happened when Rhysand and his father snuck into Spring so they could have an advantage. Obviously, I accompanied them.” 

You nodded along to his story. 

“The fight was…ugly, to say the least,” he looked away as if the memories still haunted him. 

You lovingly stroked his hair in empathy, letting him know you were there and he didn’t need to talk about it if he didn’t want to. 

“But basically when we were fighting, Tamlin tried to kill me,” he said. Immediately your body stiffened and rage filled your bones. 

Cassian held you just a bit tighter, rubbing soothing circles into your waist to calm you down. He understood the protective instincts the mating bond entailed and reassured you that it was all in the past now. 

“He was in his beast form so his claws were out. He was clawing at my face but I ducked away. The claws did scrape my face pretty good, though, and so I was left with this scar,” he gestured to it. 

You hummed in acknowledgement, taking in his expression. 

“I’ve tried to get rid of it,” he shrugged. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “But even Madja said there’s nothing that can be done. The marks came from a powerful and magical creature, so they’re gonna stay there forever,” he sighed. 

“But why try to get rid of it?” you asked. 

“Because I hate it,” he stated. “It's a constant reminder of the loss this court endured that day, of the loss my brother endured that day,” he shook his head sadly, dismissing it. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter now.” 

You shook your head adamantly. “Cassie,” you said gently and he turned his face back to you. “It's a reminder of how you stood up for your family,” you said with a small smile. “Of the day you went into another court to avenge those you loved. That is something to be proud of, my love.” 

Cassian looked at you with the same adoration again, this time with a small smile. “You think so?” 

You nodded. 

“It's just a bonus that the scar makes you look crazy hot,” you said to lighten the mood. 

Cassian laughed. “Yeah?” 

“I love that scar so much. Even more so now that I know how you got it.” You leaned in and kissed the scar running down his face, starting at his forehead, going down to his brow, to his eyelid, and lastly, his cheekbone. 

“I love you so much,” he said when you pulled away. 

“I love you more,” you replied. 

a/n: I'm not anti tam tam but I just thought of this story and needed to write it.

tags: @milswrites @sarawritestories @berryzxx @thelov3lybookworm

Masterlist

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War Pt II

Summary: Warlord!Rhys takes his mate back to his mountain camp and Tamlin's!sister!Reader has to decide the best way to try and escape

Content Warnings: Morally Grey!Rhys, talks of violence

Part I

--------------------

We ride for hours. The first two riders I’d seen join us after the first; they too have wings, tucked tight against their backs. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to ask why they bothered with horses at all when they can simply fly, but thought better of it. The less I learn about them the better. All the easier to keep them in my mind as some faceless evil so I feel a little less guilty about putting an arrow in their eye when I escape. Rhysand has foolishly left me with my weapons, I'll put that mistake to good use when the time is right. 

By the third hour, we’ve left the bog and the forest behind, riding through what was once a sprawling plain but is now nothing but weeds. There is no magic left to keep this place fertile and thriving. Hybern’s Cauldron backed powers have stripped most of the land of its power, leaving ruin and famine behind in its wake. Little has managed to grow since, he’s been using the Cauldron to make sure a majority of the crops grow in his fields, where his slaves can tend them and ensure he gets the bulk of the harvest. There's nowhere to run out here.

Especially not when the rest of the riders regroup. There are twelve of them in total, all falling behind my captor as his great, midnight black stead takes the lead. 

I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, could not afford to keep one, but the ones that I had, back in my youth, had never been this graceful. Even with my added weight the horse gallops like it has wings, swift as the wind, its blue-black mane trailing gracefully behind it. I almost don’t mind the ride, minus the circumstance and company, as the sun begins to set ahead of us, the sky a symphony of purple, orange and pink.

Eventually, we come to a river, flowing with large chunks of ice from a not yet frozen ice flow further upstream, where they stop to water their mounts. 

My captor dismounts first, large, gloved hands gripping my waist to help me down. By the Mother, his hands are so large against my hips! I’m suddenly very aware of my own size. 

“Don’t try and run,” he warns.

I glance around to my lack of escape routes and roll my eyes. “Darn, I was planning on throwing myself into the river.”

One of the others, the male I’d spotted first I think, snorts beneath his hood. 

Rhysand grunts out a warning before leading his horse to drink and filling a canteen he had tucked in his saddle bag. His back is, foolishly to me, I could easily draw my knife and stab him right here, but a quick glance around tells me that really would end with me taking a trip down the river. All his men carry swords and knives and there’s one with a wicked looking dagger strapped to his thigh; I barely reach the chin of the shortest among them, and that doesn’t account for at least a hundred pounds of muscle difference between us. I know that I have thinned, my ribs poking out beneath the heavy, hole ridden sweater. Some days I feel… brittle. Today especially. I’m not winning any fights against one of them, let alone twelve.

No, I just need to be smart. Wait for an opening, steal a horse, and run as far away as possible. So far, whatever this monster thinks I’m supposed to be to him has saved me from harm, I don’t plan on sticking around to see how long that protects me. Even if I did believe in mates-- as if the Mother ever cared enough about me to give me a soul tie to anyone--I’ve seen the worst in people enough to know it didn’t mean much in the end. What’s a mate but someone obligated to be a breeding mare? What’s a bond if not a magically induced aphrodisiac? I have little doubt that I’m actually safe here; just alive and conscious because it’s too much of a hassle to try and drag my limp body around.

My scheming comes to a grinding halt as Rhysand returns with the canteen, water sloshing the edge as he holds it out for me. It hasn’t occurred to me just how dry my mouth is until I see that water. 

Of course, I’m not going to let him know that. “No thanks.”

“I’m not going to poison you,” he returns.

“Poison's the least of my concerns,” I retort.

He grabs my hand and pushes the canteen into it. “Drink.”

“Bite me,” I snarl.

His men chuckle at that, which must upset him because his wings twitch behind him. He draws a deep breath before saying, “Ask nicely, mate.”

I should dump the water directly on his head, and my hand twitches around the canteen as I debate it, but in the end I decide against it. This male murdered half my family in cold blood, whatever thin amount of protection I might have remains only as long as he doesn’t think I’m a threat. To escape, I need to be smart.

On that subject, does he even know who I am? Does he remember riding into our camp that night, sword drawn, slaughtering my people as they jumped from their mats? Or were we just another blurred face in the mass of lives he’s taken in the name of conquest? He’s as bad as Hybern. Even if he has forgotten, I won’t.

I twist the lid back on without drinking anything, ignoring the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he growls as he takes it back and slides it into his saddle bag. There’s a rolled up sleep mat, a blanket, and another sword all tied neatly to that bag. Nothing too heavy, meaning their encampment can’t be far. I need to find a way to get away before they reach it; there will be too many eyes there.

“Your bow,” he says, holding out his hand. 

My hand tightens instinctively around the belt across my chest, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. “No.”

“You can’t ride into camp with them.”

“Great, then you can just leave me here.”

It takes him two steps to be back beside me, and I’m embarrassed to admit how easy it is for him to snag the strap and yank it over my head, despite my best efforts to keep that from happening. 

“Give that back!” 

“The knife can stay, as long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he says like I’m a misbehaving child. 

He keeps his back to me as he ties my bow and quiver up next to his second sword, my stomach rolling at the sight of my things next to his. 

Rhysand orders his men to mount up as he turns back to me, and I get the impression he’s looking me over for more weapons beneath the hood. I still have no idea what he looks like. Ugly and scarred, like most warlords are, I imagine. I’d never gotten a good look at him that night, had only seen those three stars on his hood and that giant sword between his wings, dripping blood. 

“You won’t need any weapons,” he says, in what sounds like it’s an attempt to be gentle, but falls flat. “You’re safe with me.”

I’d have been safer with the kelpie. But I don’t say it, I don’t say anything at all as those large hands lift me back onto the horse, or when he swings into the saddle behind me. I don’t say anything when we cross the river, icy water biting through my thin pants, making my teeth chatter, or when the wind whips relentlessly at us as we leave the grassy plains and head into the mountains. The chill feels like a thousand needles being jammed into my skin, but I will bear it silently. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak; will not be gratified by any sort of conversation for the duration of our journey.

Or at least, that was the plan. 

“You’re shaking,” he says, one hand gripping the reins as he uses the other to slide his cloak off his shoulders and over mine.

The material is thick, lined with fur inside, so startlingly warm between his own body heat and the fur that when it settles over me I give a little sigh of relief. The sleeves are too big, swallowing my hands as I try to pull it more fully over my body. “Thanks.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he replies as he settles around me again.

The smell of him, jasmine and citrus and the sea invades all my senses. I want, more than anything, to get it out of my nose, to keep the knowledge of him far, far away from me, but yet, despite my mind’s protests, my body burrows deeper into it. 

There’s still no encampment or settlement on the horizon, the horses moving deeper and deeper into the mountains as night falls around us. As long as we’re not stopping to make camp, I think I’ll survive. 

“And you haven’t told me yours.” If there must be a conversation, best I can do to buy myself time is steer all conversation away from me.

“I’ve had many names, but most call me Rhys.”

Most called him Death Incarnate amidst a number of things that would make a sailor blush, but I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone call him Rhys. That was entirely too normal. 

“Ok, Rhys,” it tastes like bile on my tongue, acknowledging him as anything other than the monster he has always been called back home. “Where are we going?”

The moon shines bright above us, illuminating the slender path we take through the mountains, a steep drop off on one side of us, nothing but sheer rock wall on the other. 

“Home,” he replies. 

I can’t help the scowl that escapes me, but at least he can’t see it. “And where is home exactly?”

“You’ll see soon,” he replies as he expertly guides his mount up a rocky path. There is no hesitation in his movements; he’s ridden this path many times.

I run a hand over my forehead. “I don’t remember coming this far out.” It slips out of me. If he knows this path then we’re close to the Illyrian borderlines, where his warband can make a semi-permanent encampment. These are grounds I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, nor did I think I was. 

“Where were you headed?” 

My brother’s made his claim through the Grasslands, the ground barely fertile to feed the livestock in the summer. With winter coming fast, he’d tried pushing his boundary lines into the forests near what had once been the Human Lands. I meant to go through the woods, skirting around Hybern’s slave camps and slip into the Uncharted Territories to find some game. I must have skirted too far past the slave camps when I’d lost my map running from those Highway Men.

“The Uncharted Lands,” I say because I honestly can’t come up with a lie that doesn’t make it look like I belong to Hybern or Amarantha. The boundaries between the warbands shift too often, encroaching too close. Sometimes I can barely tell who’s who and this is the only world I’ve ever known.

“Why?” He asks as we crest an incline and lead the men over a long, smooth plateau on the mountain’s western face. The wind is worse here, snapping at us like whips and before I can even burrow into my borrowed cloak, he’s drawing the hood of it over my head.

His arm tightens around my waist as he barks at his men to start riding single file. 

“Was looking for food.”

The horse’s hooves echo between the valley of rock beneath us as we press forward, the precariousness of our situation buying me time to figure out my lie. If I’m not hunting for my brother, what am I doing out here? It’s been a long day; a long week honestly. The rumbling of my stomach and the wind at my face and the warlord at my back seem to occupy the limited space in my quickly tiring mind. The hood of the cloak doesn’t help. It is embedded with some sort of magic, because even though it makes everything dark and warm, I can somehow see right through the fabric, right where that cluster of stars are, as if they’re eye slits. Magic items are rare these days, and expensive, I could probably buy out the Grassland’s market of deer jerky for this item alone.

Eventually the plateau dips, taking us down the other side of the mountain, into the misty canyon below. If I didn’t know where I was before, I really don’t now. Mountains are Illyrian territory, as forbidden and unwelcoming as the Imperial City Hybern had erected in The Middle centuries ago. I need to be paying attention so I know the way back; my eyes are sharp, sharper than most, I should be able to make out a deer path or trail easily, even in the dark, but my eyes are so heavy.

I give myself a little shake. Gotta be paying attention.

The swaying, even gate of the horse reminds me of being a small child, sitting in my mother’s rocking chair as she reads me to sleep. She and my father had always loved telling us stories, my father his made up theories and tales from the road, my mother her books and poems. I try to sit up and adjust my position in the saddle so I’m not slouching forward.

“You do not ride often,” Rhys says, his grip pulling me back more solidly against his chest, so I can feel all the hard planes of him. He’s got to be freezing without his cloak, even if he is still wearing long sleeves and gloves.

“No,” I bite back the rest of the story; how my people had suffered with the loss of my father. How Tam hadn’t been able to organize our survivors in the aftermath, how he’d been unable to store enough food for us that first winter and many of our rider’s had deserted. How he’d had to decide if keeping our stables full was worth the price of the lives hunger was stealing from us; how we’d been forced to eat and sell a few of them, my father’s prized war horse included. 

“We’ll change that,” he says, half to me, half to himself. “I think I like having my mate ride with me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds. At least I’m awake now. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

The mist settles around us as we step into the valley, even as the path ahead becomes nearly invisible, he doesn’t slow or get down to walk the horse. He knows where he’s going, has done this so many times he could do it blind. A rare gift many of our traveling cities don’t receive. Envy swells in my chest. I have never had  a place secure enough to set up a permanent camp. The Grasslands are our borders sure, but we move through them daily in fear of an attack, keeping ourselves vigilant for whenever Hybern or Amarantha decide they want more than they’ve already taken from us. Always changing our paths, our camp layout, always moving. How come this monster gets this luxury and my people don’t? 

“You are so hesitant to give it,” he muses, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do I know it already?”

Shit.

“No, that can’t be right. Our bond is too obvious, I would have remembered.”

He’s as clever as he is quick on his feet, unfortunately.

“So I will know you by association, is that it?”

I should just fling myself off the horse and try to lose myself in the mist. If I’m lucky, maybe one of his men will trample me by accident and this horrible nightmare will be over. At least, if I’m dead I will not have to explain my failure to Tam, or face the alternative of being this male’s breeding mare. Neither is a future I wish to meet.

It is only then that an alternative solution occurs to me.

Tam said I couldn’t come back without food; I’d made a nuisance of myself back home and had swiftly suffered the consequences of it, and with winter coming in fast, my brother has to know he sent me on a fool’s errand. Perhaps intending to keep me out of his way for a while; or to finally get me to bend the knee and submit to his authority as warlord. I hadn’t been of age to take father’s mark, and my allegiance had fallen through the cracks in the years after. Until I was integrated, Tam couldn’t marry me off, as I suspected he wanted to do often, and was probably using this opportunity to try and make me see reason. A future I also loathed to picture. Perhaps, if I played my cards right here, then I could find something more useful than a deer to bring back. If I played along with this little mates concept, what could Rhysand show me? Couldn’t I use any knowledge he gave to my advantage? Surely Tam would find other uses for me than marrying me off with this sort of leverage. My brother was known for his grudges, if I found a way to offer up his enemy on a silver platter, perhaps I’d never have to worry about being married off again.

My stomach twists as the plot plays out before my eyes: This fool taking me into the lands my people had never been able to access before, convincing him to let his guard down, to show me where his people were vulnerable. I could get my hands on camp movements or their supply lines; I could count the fighting men or the horses, make list after list to take back in the place of a few meals I know deep down I’d never be able to find before winter. 

My parents faces flash before my eyes. My mother, so gentle and…sad. She had been sad long before my birth, always missing a home she couldn’t go back to because of Hybern. But she had always tried to be there for me. To sing to me and hold me. She had been good and kind and if she knew where I sat now… what I thought I might do…

And my father. He was cruel and cold and I’d spent a long time wondering if he’d ever loved me at all, but he had been a good leader. He had inspired the men, even on days that had been bleak. He’d been willing to shed whatever blood was necessary to ensure the survival of my people. If this opportunity had been presented while he was alive, he would have tossed a collar around my neck and dragged me to Rhysand’s doorstep himself. 

As for Tamlin, well if he so much as saw Rhysand’s arm around my waist as it was now he would have torn him to shreds. He would hate it, but I think my brother was as calculating and ruthless as my father had been. His protective nature could be overruled by what he deemed necessary to keep us alive. 

I’d need to play my cards right, if I was to make this work. “Yes,” and I force my voice to a whisper, my shoulders hunching in feign defeat. I will have to find ways not to look so utterly revolted about this male touching me; will have to bury all my base instincts to run and claw and fight every time he calls me his mate. But I can do it.

I will do it. For vengeance. For my angel of a mother. For the survival my father died for. I’d damn myself a hundred times over for a chance Tam had never found. 

He rests his chin on my shoulder, thinking and it takes every inch of willpower I possess to not shrug him off. A few hours together and this prick thinks he can just touch me so casually? As if I have no say in the matter because he is my mate and therefore owed whatever affection he sees fit to grant me?

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t hold it against you,” his voice is… gentle. Far more gentle than a man in his position should be and I have no idea how to respond to it. 

“My name is Y/N,” I saw softly, like I’m scared the wind will hear me. “Tamlin is my older brother.”

He stiffens behind me and I find myself holding my breath. This is it.

“He never mentioned he had a sister,” he says more to himself than me.

I almost audibly let loose a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, well he isn’t too fond of me at the moment.” Never mind I didn’t know that he and Tamlin had ever talked on a mutual basis. Sometimes, usually over a mutually beneficial wedding ceremony, did rival camps come together and exchange weapons, food and sometimes training. If I remember correctly, I think there might have been times when we’d done so with the Illyrians, but never did Tam mention that he knew Rhysand personally. Rhysand was always a name whispered like a curse, as if saying it too loud would bring death and destruction upon us. 

“He sent you out here? Alone?” That last bit comes out like a growl.

“Banished, is more of the term he used,” I say under my breath, hoping the tone conveys embarrassment. 

“For what?” He hisses, his tone promising violence. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Now what would convince Death Incarnate that I was something meek and fragile and in need of protection from my big, bad brother? If we really were mates, it would be in his nature to want to protect me, from both physical and emotional harm, but I needed to be careful. Too extreme a lie and I was likely to restart the war between our camps that had cost me my parents. I needed something to pack enough punch to convince him he needed to keep me close, to be looked after, but not so bad that it sparked a fight.

Perhaps my best bet was to appeal to the bond. “He wants me to take his mark,” I twist the sleeves of the cloak between my fingers as I speak. “So he can reap the benefits of marrying me off to one of Autumn’s commanders.”

Rhysand has gone still as death itself behind me and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire as whatever dark power lives within his skin comes to life. All my instincts scream at me to run, hide.

“But Eris is… cruel and I told Tam I couldn’t do it.” Eris was probably too old for Tam to try, but there had been talks, even when I was a girl, about how my father had wanted an alliance with Autumn, and Eris had his own history with the Illyrians. “He told me I needed to sort out my priorities and when I didn’t, he threw me out.”

“That’s just like him,” Rhysand snarls.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from snarling all the things I’d rather say in my brother’s defense. 

“How long have you been out here on your own?”

“About a week, I think,” I could say longer, but on the off-chance he has spies that could check that sort of thing--and I’m fairly certain the stories about Illyrians and their shadow agents are not far off--I’d rather play it safe. 

He brings his mount to a brief halt as two, looming carvings in the mountain’s face appear through the fog. The touring statues sporting the same great, talon tipped wings as Rhysand, stand guard over the pass ahead of us, their hewn sword held aloft. Sleeping wyverns lay at the base of each statue, their carefully carved eyes at eye level with us as the men fall in line behind us. The air is tinged with magic--overly sweet and oppressive-- as we approach, some sort of shield.

“From here,” he says softly in my ear, the mask still shielding the lower half of his face from the wind rough against my cheek. “You’ll never have to worry about being alone again.”

I’m going to be sick!  Play it safe. Play the game. For Tam. For Mom and Dad. I will myself to picture their faces again, to keep reminding myself what is at stake. 

Rhysand kicks the horse into motion again, passing through the shield with a flick of his gloved hand, soft ripples of magic parting for us like someone had pulled back a curtain. I’ve never seen anyone use magic so casually, so fluidly. Once all the riders have passed through, I feel the shield fall back into place behind us. No turning back now.

Ahead, the path begins to widen. At the far end of the path, still shrouded on either side by the mountains, sit two torches, the light guiding the way. When we reach them, the path dips dangerously into a valley, all filled with large, midnight black tents. More torches and bonfires light the cloth city, the sounds of drum beats and revelry beckoning from beneath us.

“I see the party started without us,” one of the men says from behind us.

“Devlon must have had a good run,” Rhysand muses as he takes us down into the valley. 

As the lights draw closer, I can start to make out the tribal markings and depictions sewn into the sides of the tents. There’s singing to go with the drum beats, all in a language that makes no sense to me, just like the markings. Something from the Mountains none of my people had ever been privy to. 

When we reach the outskirts of the city, we are greeted by two towering males, wearing little other than loose, dark paints and a smattering of blood red paint along their bare chests and faces. Each holds a spear, a dagger strapped to their muscled thighs. 

One barks something at Rhysand in Illyrian, his slate colored gaze fixed on me, still wearing the lord’s cloak. I’m grateful they cannot see my face, the fear I know will be clear in my eyes. It is hard enough to hide the trembling in my hands.

Rhysand dismounts to greet them, still speaking in Illyrian until they retreat into the maze of tents beyond. Despite the raucous laughter and music coming from the center, the rows of tents are organized into clear streets and sectors, some dancing bodies visible in between the rows, though most of the camp seems to be in its heart at the moment. 

He runs a gloved hand over the horses neck as he turns to face the men, their mounts dancing beneath them. “We will strategize in the morning.”

That is apparently dismissal enough, as his men bow their heads and kick their steads into motion around the outskirts of camp, soon disappearing into the darkness. My stomach drops as I realize I’m alone with my enemy for the first time all night. My anxiety only heightens as he takes the reins and guides the horse forward without a word of where we’re going.

I’m too scared to ask either.

Staying on the edge of camp means I cannot see any of what is happening within, though I glimpse bonfires and revelry often enough to guess. It is not unlike our own celebrations, even if the music is different.

Rhysand still doesn’t speak as we pass another group of sentries and head up a well worn path in the heart of the valley. The grass is lush here, would be up to his knees were it not for the cleared stretch lined by torches. It is quieter here, the music distant.

Overhead, the stars glitter like a million little diamonds, all the constellations I have memorized a stark contrast to the dark shadows of this hidden mountain world. We’re surrounded on all sides by mountains, shielded from view and harm by stone. It is so different to the rolling hills I am used to, it is nice to know that the stars, at least, have not changed.

The path leads to a secluded circle of larger tents, still black but stitched with stars not unlike the ones on the cloak I’m still wearing.

We pass yet another group of sentries as we approach, and only once we’re face to face with the largest tent in the circle does Rhysand finally stop.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

I should have run. Should have thrown myself into the river. Should have risked a quick death trying to fight my way out of this than subjecting myself to this.

Rhysand grabs my waist again and lifts me off the horse as if I weigh nothing. Compared to his size, I’m sure I do. In the torchlight, this is the first time I’ve managed to glimpse his face. I’d been drastically wrong about his appearance. The monster that haunted my nightmares was not some old, scarred thing as I had pictured, I wasn’t sure he was even older than Tam. A young lord, his features sharp, but clean cut. Some of his raven black hair fell loose around his sun kissed face, framing a set of violet eyes so bright they practically glittered like stars in his head, the rest was braided with strands of blue and purple thread. By far the most beautiful male I’d ever seen in my life and I think I hate him a little more for it. 

“You must be tired,” he says finally.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod, which I think might be a mistake because now we’re heading inside the tent and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears because I have made a terrible mistake!

By some magic trick, torches flair to life as we enter, the soft orange glow cast in eerie patterns against the sleek black leather walls. On one side of the tent is a bed large enough to accommodate someone with such massive wings, piled with furs and pelts of various animals. On the other end, a table with some chairs and various weapons and books and trinkets scattered about the top of it. There’s chests piled in the corner, locked and dusty like they haven’t been opened since they’d been moved in. The floor is covered in a dozen different rugs, all overlapping in an attempt to make the place feel cozier but the patterns and colors are all so different that it looks like a whacky patchwork quilt. Clearly a layout chosen by a male.

“I apologize for the mess,” he begins as he takes off the scarf tied around the lower half of his face and places it over the back of a chair. “I… was not expecting to come across anybody out there, let alone bringing anyone back.”

“What were you doing out there?” My voice shakes too much for my liking and I’m convinced I asked that far too quickly to not be totally obvious, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Scouting,” he says with no further explanation as he tosses his gloves onto a heap of more gloves on the edge of the table. 

My muscles stiffen as I watch him warily. If he starts undressing I might really change my mind and try to run for it.

I am prepared to do what is necessary for my people, but that is a line I cannot cross yet. Not tonight.  

He steps closer to where I stand dumbly in the center of the room, drowning in his cloak, and he nudges the hood off my face with his knuckles. 

I have to remind myself to stop biting my lip as the fabric slides off my head. Even fully clothed, standing this close to him, with those violet eyes drinking me in like that, I feel very exposed and vulnerable. 

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hand drifting down the side of my cheek.

I hate that I shiver under his touch. Hate that my eyes go to his full lips and how soft they look in this torchlight. I hate that I find him beautiful, hate that I do not pull away as he cups my cheek. I hate myself for putting myself in this position in the first place. 

“I…” this is not an act, I really don’t know what to do or say here. My chest aches with the way he’s looking at me, like maybe there really is some strange, mystical thread linking us together and it’s coming awake the more he has his hands on me. Yet my mind balks and screams all the same and I cannot tell which of them is supposed to help me do this. “This is a lot.”

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he assures, his voice low and husky, a tone I think might be better suited to the bedroom. “You are safe with me.”

Safe.

As if he could ever make me feel safe.

His thumb rubs circles in my cheek, the calluses along his palm from years of sword play scratching pleasantly across my skin. Violet eyes rove over me, studying the plains of my face like he’s cataloging every detail. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

I let loose a breath as he heads back to the tent flap, where his horse is still waiting.

“For now, it would be best if you stay here. Don’t go anywhere without me. At least, not until you take my mark.”

And then he’s gone, finally leaving me alone for the first time in hours, but even if I wanted to do some snooping, I can’t. All I can do is stand there as my stomach rises in my throat. 

His mark.

How the hell was I supposed to go home bearing Rhysand’s mark? 

I rub my temples with my fingertips. I need to find something useful to take back to Tamlin and get out of here fast, because if I don’t, I may never be allowed to go home again.

---------------------------

Tag List: @judig92, @randomperson1234sblog, @nyxbranwenn, @lilah-asteria, @barb00235, @landofpetrichor

Let me know if you would also like to be added to the Tag List! I have a good couple of chapters planned :)

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Prologue

Andras x Reader

Summary: a prologue for what will be a Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Warnings: angst! very brief mention of pregnancy loss

Word Count: 1,078

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You knew you were already too late. You could feel it in the ache of your legs. The pounding of your heart. The breath panting through your lips as you race through the trees. He had made his decision, sending another to tell you, worried that seeing you again would change his mind. You knew that you couldn’t stop him, but perhaps you could at least say goodbye. 

Your dress catches on a branch, tearing, but you heed it no mind as you keep running as your destination comes into sight. Two sets of eyes fall upon you.The green eyes of your brother, filled with pity. The gray eyes of your husband, filled with regret.  Your brother nods before stepping away, giving the two of you the moment you so desperately need. You throw yourself at your husband, clinging to his tunic, the silver that had been rimming your eyes finally spilling over. 

"Don't do it. Don't leave me," you sob.

He says nothing, gently brushing the tears away from your eyes, somehow managing to keep his own at bay. 

"Andras. Please," you beg.

He speaks finally. "You know I must. For the Spring Court. For Prythian."

"To Hell with the Spring Court! To Hell with Prythian! I need you!" You pause for a moment, voice growing soft as your hand finds your stomach, cradling the babe growing inside. "We need you."

He places a hand over yours. "That's why I must go. There is so little time left and I will not let my child live in a world that's been corrupted by Her. I cannot bear the thought of it. It may be a fool's errand but it is the only thing that I can think of that might save our child. Save you."

You nod, a fresh wave of tears leaving you unable to speak. 

He holds you for a moment, wishing it could be different. Wishing there was a way he could protect you without sacrificing himself. A way to live and see his child born.  But there was not and so he must. He breathes in deeply, taking in your scent for the last time and kisses you on the forehead before stepping away and nodding at the other male. 

Somehow, you manage to stay on your feet as he leaves you, watching the magic that transforms your love. You walk over to the wolf that stands in his place, placing a hand on either side of his muzzle before pressing a parting kiss there. The wolf gives you one last longing look before slipping through the hole in the wall. 

You drop to the forest floor as your legs finally give out, sobs wracking your body. Your brother sinks down next to you, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight. As if by holding you he could prevent the shattering of your heart. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice cracking.  "I tried to talk him out of it. Tried to convince him to stay..." 

You ignore him, too focused on your own broken heart to listen to him try to make himself feel better. He picks you up then, standing to carry you home. If you can call it that anymore when such a vital piece of it is now gone forever. 

You were in the gardens the day he died. Wandering aimlessly, fiddling with the gold ring hanging on the chain around your neck. You felt it as he drew his dying breath. Perhaps you had been mates after all. Perhaps this was as close as you'd ever get to feeling that bond, that golden thread that would never be, emptiness filling your chest as you sink to the ground amongst the roses. If it had snapped, could you have convinced him to stay? Could you have convinced him that you needed him, needed the other half of your soul? A hollowness fills your chest where you had always imagined the bond might form linking you to him. But it never did. Emotions burn in your throat, and somewhere someone screams. It’s a raw, primal sound filled with grief. Could that be you? You’ve retreated so far into yourself that you don’t even know anymore. Your hand falls to your stomach where it will swell with child, curling around yourself  to protect the babe, as if this grief is an enemy you need to protect them from. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, curled in on yourself, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. You knew this day was coming. He may as well have been dead the day he crossed the wall and went into the human lands. You press his ring to your lips, the gold band cool from the night air. 

It is not your brother who finds you, but Lucien. He picks you up, carrying you into the house that no longer feels like a home. He carries you to your room, tucking you into your bed. He sits next to you, stroking the hair back from your face just like your mother had when you would wake from a nightmare as a child. But there was no waking from this one. He tells you how Tamlin is already going to find Andras’ killer to see if his death has brought the hope we so desperately need. You pray to the Mother, hoping that it hasn’t all been for nothing. And as your eyes grow heavy, the grief finally dragging you down into sleep, you hear as Lucien softly sings a lullaby his mother sang to him as a child.

Months have passed when you wake with a start, tears streaming down your face. You'd dreamt of the forest again. Of losing your love, your home, your soul. Your dream followed him into the mortal lands, to where the human girl had shot him with the ash arrow. You had asked her about it, needing to know. Needing to know if he had been in pain. If he had suffered. 

 Your hand falls to where your child should be growing, letting the tears stream down your face as you stare up at the canopy of your bed. He had done it. Andras had been successful and now the rest was up to your brother. He just had to get the human girl to fall in love with him and your husband's sacrifice would not be in vain. Everything you lost would mean something. And maybe, one day, everything could be okay again.

Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fic with more planned! If you liked it feel free to send a request!

Thanks @azsazz for inspiring me to give fic writing a try!

divider by: @tsunami-of-tears